Skip to main content

Down in the dumps

I'm sick.  My stories suck.  I am uninspired, sneezing, wheezing and coughing.  Ah but a nice Kendall Jackson Meritage '04 is making the world a better place right now.

This morning, I mustered the energy to take the poochies for a walk.  As it happened, my neighbor Kathy was out for a stroll too, so we walked together.  While en-route, a we caught sight of a neighbor pulling out of his driveway.  He had adopted a dog recently, so I waved and asked, "How's Buddy?"
He said Buddy had gone home to his original owners.  They had decided they could, in fact, care for him.  
"I'm all alone now," he said. Then he launched into his story: his wife left him with nothing more than a note, the gist o which was that the thrill was gone.  He went on and on about her, as though we were his two best friends in the world, even though we hardly know the guy.  I felt for him.  I really did.  No doubt there's another side to that story.  There always is. Anyway, when he finally finished venting and drove off, Kathy and I shared one of those comical moments when you look at each other and say without saying it, "Well alrighty then."

Yes, I had such a gooey, nasty cold yesterday that I called in sick.  I should be back to the wine shop grind tomorrow.  Ooh.  Can't wait.  Hope we have lots of tour vans pull in and flood us with swarms of cheapskates who take advantage of our free wine tasting, then leave without buying anything.  I especially hope they all neglect to leave a tip. That way, we can run around like idiots trying to help them all, working our asses off for squat.  Yeah, that's always fun. What a way to run a business.  The theory I hear is that some people is better than no people.  I disagree.  That's not true if the people are costing you money.  Ah but what do I know.  I'm just a mediocre writer with a business degree.

Is it just me or is Sarah Palin more than just a little scary?  Common, Sarah.  If you're in Kuwait, who's watching Russia?  Putin's a black belt, don'tcha know?  I wonder if he can swim?

Gotta go take a shower.  I feel way too much sarcasm oozing from my pores.

A hui hou. Aloha.




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mom

This is my beautiful mom. She died last Sunday. For those who knew her, my heart breaks with you. For those who did not, here's an introduction to the best confidante, role model and mother a girl could hope for in life. This is the obituary I'd planned to submit to the local paper, but have opted instead to publish here. Obituary: Beverly Todd Bev -- my mom -- was a longtime caregiver, advocate, and dear friend to countless elderly in South Salem. Hers was a kind and generous spirit. She devoted much of her life to the welfare of others, giving wholly of herself and doing so always with great affection and humor. She was born Beverly Marie Steinberger in Silverton, July 23, 1938, the first child and only daughter of Art and Marie Steinberger. Her brothers called her Bevvy Buns, a nickname she grew fond of and wore proudly within the family circle as an adult. Bev attended St. Paul’s Elementary School in Silverton, Silverton High School and Marylhurst Co...

Back at it

It's been some time since I've written. My mom died in February, and I haven't had the gumption to write much, other than a couple of feature stories for the paper and the occasional pithy email to a friend. Tonight, sitting in my favorite burger joint with a pile of fries in front of me, I dunk them into a deep pool of ketchup mixed with a hot sauce. That's how Mom liked 'em. My burger? The Spicy Hawaiian, a nod to my 808 connections. It's a brilliant combination of peppers and pineapple, a favorite on the Power Stop menu. I'm sure she'd have loved it, too. There's a bubbly beer with a lime in it. That's not a homage to anything. I just like beer. These past months, I've done little but work, search and apply for jobs. Two rejection letters have landed in my email this week. Search-and-apply has become a futile obsession. It's time for a break, at least until I hear back from all those applications still floating around out there. I am...

Small town observations

Every day at noon, a siren blares from atop the city government building in Gunnison. Each time I hear it, I want to shout, “Yabba dabba doo!” even though it’s nowhere near happy hour. I’ve blurted this once or twice, only to elicit blank stares in response. Am I that old? Doesn’t anyone remember the The Flintstones? I hear that horn and imagine Fred sliding down the long neck of his gravel-quarry dino-dozer (which, thanks to Jurassic Park and the miracle of Google we all recognize now as riojasaurus). Quitting time! Fred flees, his fleet feet slapping toward a rack o’ ribs and a night of good times with Wilma, Barney, Betty and Dino. That’s Dino the dino, pronounced Deeno the dyno. Think that’s delusional? Another day, walking downtown near the source of the noontime wale, it struck me, a revelation it was, that the ramp up to full blast sounds just like the introduction to Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, only this is a mega-air-raid, civil-defense siren solo rather than a clarinet, whic...