I know you don't want to hear about it but . . .

. . .  it's been really nice here this week.

I guess not so much in Atlanta.  





But here it's nice.  Really nice. Insanely nice. You'd be lucky to have this kind of weather in June, nice.

Sorry.  

Teaser

I still don't have much time to post anything in length but I will tell you this much - very soon, this chair will look completely different -

if only I can get her to vacate.

7 Billion of Us? Really?

Kinda scary.



But not my fault. I had nothing to do with it.

(and all would fit in the city of Los Angeles? no thank you. traffic is bad enough as it is.)

You Know It's True

You can deny that you know it's true.

But then you would be a liar.

The Reports Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated.

No need to call the authorities. Don’t search the streets and alleyways. For God’s sake, don’t dredge the river. I’m here. I’ve just been busy, engaged in other pursuits.

I have a tiny brain, no greater in size than that of a marmoset.

And while I can be quite obsessive in thought, I can only entertain one obsessive thought at a time. For the past few months, that one thought has been that other pursuit. For seven years I obsessed about the remodeling of the house. When that was done (or done enough for now), I was free to obsess on the obsessions that I entertain more naturally, the obsessions of my natural inclinations, if you will. Sometimes this other obsession entails prancing about in front of people, saying words that are not my own.

And when I am obsessing about that other thing, I cannot write a blog about my house – or about my neighborhood – or about my property – or about my conflicted feelings about my property.

And when I am trying to learn that other thing or create that other thing, it leaves me little or no time for your thing.

Believe me, I do care about your kitchen remodel. I care about your dining room. I definitely care about your master bedroom re-do and your beloved little terrier.

But I just can’t keep up with it all. So please forgive me and allow me some time to catch up.

I’m only one blogger, with too little time and way too many interests for one lifetime.

Still, not to worry, I haven’t left this lifetime yet.

Halloween

I'm a little behind on a lot of things.  One of them is my blog.  Another of them is probably your blog.

Sorry about that.

I did find time to create a slide from the pictures I took on Halloween night. (There were supposed to have been sound effects. Don't know where they went.)

We had fun. Handed out candy, took pictures and ordered pizza. I like Halloween. No one asks anything of me but some candy. All the entertainment is provided by others.

One of my most fave things about my 'hood is the kids on Halloween. Generally, I'm not a big fan of kids but I do like them on Halloween.

I really like Halloween.

Disappointment

At work today, someone brought the following video clip to my attention. And yes, it was completely work-related (I’m fortunate enough to have a job where I get to watch video clips all day).

Go ahead, watch. I’ll wait.



I don’t think I’ve ever laughed harder at a video clip in my life, and I’ve seen a lot of funny video clips. The kids are completely bummed at this turn of events and the clueless mom is completely bummed at the kids’ refusal to grant her the expression of joy and appreciation that she had so anticipated. Everyone goes from happy and excited to miserable and angry.

Sooooo . . . . . why do I love this clip? Am I just a hateful, bitter codger happy to see others unhappy? Maybe. But I think I like it because it’s so painfully honest.

No matter what you do for your children, no matter how much you try to give them a life that you imagine will make them happy, they are bound to disappoint you. They will NEVER give you the satisfying reaction that you crave. They can never live up to your expectations. It's unfair of you to believe that they will.

From the child’s point of view, your parents will never understand you. They will never know who you are or what you want. They will never know how to give you what you need because they live in a different world and they just don’t get it. You want something from them. You know you want something from them and you always hope that they’ll know exactly what it is. But they don’t. They can’t. They can only see what they want you to want.

Or maybe not. Maybe that’s just me, and those poor kids who just wanted to go to Dick’s house.