Leap year - Mike's 60th birthday

Today is my friend Michael's birthday. Yes, he is a leap year man, so very, very special. I first met Mike in 1973 when he moved in across the street from me. I lived at home with my mom, my sisters M and J. I was a child. He was bigger than life, in his mid-twenties and drove a maroon Dodge Van. He was so exciting, full of energy, always had a smile on his face. He rode a Harley Sportster too.

Mike had two roommates, Dan S. the fireman and Murray G. the salesman with a weakness for big boobs. Murray had a motorcycle too. They all drove vans and belonged to a van club, Murray's was a gold colored Chevy. They were all real nice but I loved Mike the most.

They had music playing all the time in their house, great music - Steely Dan, the Doobies, CCR, Led Zepplin, Cream, Santana and of course, the Eagles. They threw huge parties too, keggers. Both sides of our whole street would be filled with nothing but vans. Girls in their early twenties used to come to their parties and giggle in the front yard. I'd sit in my house, looking out the window, wishing I was old enough to go to their parties.

My mom liked them and they respected her. They gave her rides on their motorcycles occasionally. But there was an understanding between them. I wasn't just a kid, I was her kid, not some challenge. The guys were never disrespectful to any of the neighbors and when they held parties, somehow they always managed to move onto another place before pissing off the whole street. Nobody yelled or started fights or threw beer cans in the road.

During the summer I became a teenager, I used to go across the street and hang out for hours. Sometimes we'd watch TV, other times I'd grab a dishtowel and dry while they washed dishes. Schools let out in June and you could rest assured you'd forget everything you learned before it recommenced in September. I had other things to learn, mostly from Mike. That was the summer I grew breasts, Murray was smitten. I also learned to inhale a cigarette, roll a joint and how to shotgun a beer. I used to go cruising with them in their vans or on their bikes and hang out on warm summer nights with them, listen to music and talk with their friends.

I also had my boob felt up by Murray, he was obssessed. He snuck up behind me and groped me. If Switters, in/of Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates can say vagina in a thousand different languages, Murray knew more words for breasts than any man alive. Geez, what a dope he was. If I had to pick a modern day guy that reminds me of Murray, it'd have to be Jack Black. But you'd have to add glasses and a way bigger nose.

But there was no one like Mike. Mike was a General Contractor and worked with his dad and brother. He had wavy light brown hair that kind of stuck out all over, like wings. He had hazel eyes, was ohhhh, about six- three and weighed 180. He used to say his hair was like pubes because it was so out of control. He smelled like Winstons. He tasted like Dr Pepper. One of his favorites things to say when he got excited about getting something done or going somewhere was, BLICKA!! It was his voila!!

Mike loved to dress up for Halloween. On year he was an OB/gyn. The next a cowboy. The next year he was an arab shiek. He had a turban complete with cords, layers of robes and a sword that scared the crap out of everyone within ten feet. Trick or treat indeed. He had a dog named Shadow. She was a Brittney Spaniel. She was so calm, smart and pretty. He said he got her because he liked his girls with freckles. This made me blush so deeply my freckles all but disappeared.

He moved away but we stayed in touch off and on. For awhile. One time when I saw him we ate some acid, his first time. He asked me about four in the morning, "How do you sleep? Everytime I close my eyes I see patterns. When does the show turn off?" The show was just starting.

I am not sure but I think Mike was born in 1948. By that count he should have had fifteen birthdays so far. Which is about the age I wish he'd been when I adored him. I still adore him. I miss him. Technically he is sixty and if he is still walking, he should still be partying. I wonder how he is, where he is.... I'd like to give him a big birthday kiss. BLICKA!!!

The Toe Show

When I have some serious thinking to do, I go for a walk. I call this the Toe Show. Step after step the toe reappears as if by magic. Left, right, left, right, and so on and so on. Toe, toe, toe, toe, toe, toe. Moving forward helps me to set aside insignificant things that are clouding my judgment and preventing me from thinking clearly. Some of my best decisions are made after a five mile stroll.

I went for a long walk this very morning. It was rainy, chilly and uphill. I have not come to a conclusion about what was bugging me, but I think I undid the damage yesterdays chocolate cake made to my ass.

Heartsick

Click HEARTSICK to see Blake on Stripped.


In the middle of last week I found out that Blake Shelton was going to be in the Southern California area playing three gigs this week. This was good for soooo many reasons, let me count the ways.

He usually plays back east or in the midwest. He's from Oklahoma and Nashville. He does fairs, casinos, the places I seldom frequent.

He was playing for three days straight, one of which I did not have to work the day after. This never happens. I work 0300 to 1200 and I can't pull all nighters at this job the way I used to do when I was younger at jobs that didn't mean shit to me. I tried this at a BB King, Al Green and Etta James concert last September and my gawd, I was like the walking dead the next day.

I discovered Blake Shelton at work. My co-workers play the radio LOUD at night. One guy listens to heavy metal, another guy likes rock, another is a country-western maniac. Country-western is the boss boss, so we listen to his station the most. One night about six months ago, "The More I Drink" came on and oooh la la, I was in love. That song is so catchy and easy to like. Nevermind that the more I drink, the more I drink. Really, really. Days later another cool song comes on, turns out that is Blake Shelton too. Same thing happens a week later. Man, this Shelton is all over the radio waves.

So, like a good little sister I call my big sister M, she's the country expert in our family.

"Hey girlie."

"Hiya! What's going on?"

"You ever hear of Blake Shelton?"

"Hell yeah, he's awesome. I have all his CDs."

"BITCH!"

At this point she giggles because she knows when I call someone a bitch it's because I am jealous of them. It isn't a personal attack. It's an endearment of the gangster variety.

"He's one taaaaa-aaall drink o'water. He makes me thirsty!"

"He is?"

"Hell yeah. He's gotta be 6'4" easy. Closer to 6'6" in cowboy boots. I liked him better with long hair."

"He had long hair?"

"Come over. Let's do some Blake."

So I went. We listened. I was smitten. I bought his CD Pure BS on the way home. When I got here I Googled him. God did good. Blake is a tall drink of water. Not only does he have talent from here to South America, he has dimples, a killer smile, a wicked sense of humor and a bod that makes my panties damp. Okay. That's an exaggeration but still, he's smoking hot.

Anyway that is how I came to know about and like Blake Shelton. Onward.

So, three dates, Wednesday the 20th at the House of Blues in West Hollywood. This works. I have Thursday off. House of Blues is closer than the Fourth and B in San Diego or the Santa Clarita Center for Performing Arts. I get a big plan, blast off an email and make the call Friday night.

"Hey. Did you get my email? Blake Shelton is playing next Weds in Hollywood, wanna go for your birthday?!! It'll be great!"

"Not really. It's too far and we'd never make it in time.We'd miss the show."

The doors open at 7:30p.m and the show starts at 8:30p.m. and I know it'll take an easy two hours to get there through traffic but goodness sakes, she's salary!! She could leave early IF she WANTED TO!

Ugh. Okay. Truth is I was trying to kill three birds with one stone. I wanna see Blake, it was her birthday but my car Betty is in bad shape and I wanted sister M to drive. She LOVES to drive. She never lets me drive her anywhere, ever! Betty has a misfiring number two cylinder and needs some TLC.

At this point I want to drive my scarey car, go alone if I have to. I am fearless. But it gets worse.The new work schedules come out on Fridays at 1pm, but I depart at 1200 so I don't see that I am actually on the schedule for the Thursday following the HOB gig until I arrive to work on Sat. Shit!

There is no way to make this long story short. Monday night I was still looking at tickets online. I was broke but didn't care. I was determined to go. For gawdsakes, Blake is here, in town!! I found someone who'd go with me, maybe drive. It's only $50! and if I have to buy two tickets, dammit I will! But he didn't call on Tuesday to confirm, that bastard. By Tuesday there was only SRO tix available. I was still wanting to go but Wednesday after work, it then started to rain. Hard. Oh for fuck's sake!

Let's add this up - major cash shortage, scarey running car, no solid tickets, SRO at the door if I was lucky, no one to go with me, drive alone on a worknight where I have to be at work the next morning at 3am, through two hours of gridlock, maybe both ways, on no sleep because I worked 3-12 Tueday night, in the pouring rain.....

I once hitchhiked to Las Vegas with ten bucks wearing just a bikini. I had a ball. I miss the old days.

Early signs of stardom

The concert that I went to on Feb 9th was so successful that someone called the local Fox network and they sent a reporter out to talk to the kids that played. My niece was in one of the bands that played, having learned to perform at the West Coast School of Rock.

Well, this week the reporter showed up and the kids got together to play again, at the school, for a live TV news broadcast and here is a link that features her band. I never watch the Fox Channel, except for the Superbowl and o-i-a-b-m The Simpsons. I didn't see them on the news live that morning either, I was at work.

I never made a hyperlink on my Blog before, let's see if this works.

http://www.myfoxla.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=5775118&version=3&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=3.2.1

(Edited - The link works but it is not a hyperlink, shit!)

Presidents' Day

Here is the statue of Abraham Lincoln in his Kentucky hometown.



This is the gorgeous Kentucky countryside where he lived with his family.

Here is the cabin they lived in.

Not to be confused with the log cabin he was born in, seen below. It is as it was when he was a child, held together with mud, one room, very primative. I've seen garages bigger than this cabin.

That cabin is housed inside this monument. And it is all in enclosed in a beautiful park.

All these pictures were taken in Oct 2006, on a beautiful fall day. Today I couldn't go to the post office, the bank, the library or the tax place. So thanks Abe, Happy Birthday.

Stuff I am thinking about

I went to a concert y'day afternoon. My niece was playing in a rock band. She is 12 years old. It was excellent, they played six songs. She plays keyboard, guitar and sings. Her little brother plays drums, he's 9. His band didn't play though. There were close to a hundred people there.

In California the freeways are usually packed and slow. This is called gridlock. An asshole speeding up the emergency shoulder almost hit me while I was trying to exit the 91. The license plate number was 5TSL218. I remember this because TSL stands for total shit loser.

I make the best lasagne. I make my bechamel sauce spiked with nutmeg. Everybody who has eaten my lasagne has said it is the best they've ever had.

I had my livingroom wall painted y'day. I plan on hanging my best photographs in three sets of two wide, three high. I am using four by six frames. I think this would be called a triptych except it is not one picture in three parts. It is 3 X (2x3) = 18.

The gardener comes every other Saturday. He brings his leaf blower and instead of sweeping like a normal person, he blows all the leaves down the driveway and ruins my peace and quiet for several hours which makes me not fond of him. One day I said to him, "When you blow the leaves off my back step, you blow dirt in my house under the door because it is not flush." He says, "So ask for a new door." I wanna slap this smug idiot instead I say, "My problem is not with the door, it is with you. Stop blowing dirt in my house. How hard is that?"

I woke up this morning to cat puke in the bathroom. I am glad I didn't step in it. Eww.

There is a guy who walks his dog down my street on a pretty regular basis. The dog is a white standard poodle and he's stunning. When I see them approach an intersection, the dog automatically sits. He heals, he sits, he struts, he's gorgeous. When I was coming home from work the other day I saw the guy walking this dog so I pulled over in my car. I rolled the window down and told him I see him walk him all the time and he's an easy dog to admire, he's so beautiful. Turns out the dog's name is Cooper. He says, "Say hi to the pretty lady Cooper." No lie, the dog barked twice! Cooper was a year old December 17th, 2007 and his owner walks him 3 miles a day, past my house. I told him the next time I see him walking his dog, I'm going to run out with my camera and take his picture. He said he'd love that. Coming soon, PHOTOS OF COOPER.

I have two sisters who live in Michigan, I used to live there but couldn't stand the pace. Today they were a miserable 2 degrees and with the windchill factor, it was 20 below zero with white out conditions. At my house it was 74 degrees, sunny, clear blue sky and visability unlimited. On behalf of the gorgeous weather, I posted a photo up top.

Vrooom

Betty is my car. The repair I had done y'day did nothing to fix the hesitation between 35 - 40 mph. Now she hesitates much more steadily. I knew it wouldn't fix it but that is beside the point. Since I drive a red car I thought a clever license plate holder might read, "When I grow up I want to be a Fire Engine". What else is traditionally a red vehicle?

There are two fire companies that come in to where I work, one city, one county. These guys are calender quality hotties. And they're really nice too. Most are married and I make it a practice to never shop other women's husbands. One guy, Eddie, runs marathons and is a triathelete. I share recipes with some of the firemen. One gave me his recipe for Cajon Gumbo and yikes, it was spicy! Another one named Chris, from the county dept, gave me a recipe for root vegetable stew that was incredible.

The ladies I work with make snarky remarks about me talking to the firemen. They act like I am "on the hunt" and it pisses me off that they are vulgar at my expense. I am not sure why women behave this way. No one makes these remarks when I talk with everyone else. Besides talking to the firemen, I talk to old people, young people, I talk to little kids, their moms, dads, a real estate salesman, the dude who works at Lowe's, a poolman, a cosmetic counter lady, the nextdoor recycler. I am friendly to co-workers or anyone who comes within my vicinity. But for some reason, my talking to the firemen gets them worked up and they act catty. Maybe they're jealous even though there is nothing to be jealous about.

I did nothing depraved for Mardi Gras per se. Does looking at photos from Rio's Carnival count or speaking french? I wish I could Samba. Or go topless.

Today is the day I'd normally prepare some english pancakes with sugar and lemon, for Ash Wednesday. My son used to like to eat them. He could eat twenty of them easy. I haven't seen him since 1999. Tomorrow is his birthday. I miss him.

I hope that as things progress, I will get better at this blogging. I don't think anyone is reading this. If you are, well, don't die of boredom.

Busy week

Some random thoughts about my week so far.

Sunday was Superbowl. I had hoped that NE would make it a perfect season. Oh well. The best team won, yeah NY Giants! I feel fortunate that I was able to witness quarterback brothers winning two consecutive Superbowls. That must be a first. Congratulations Eli on MVP.

Monday I had a headache. I have had a headache for a week. I stayed home eating aspirin by the handful and made this Blog out of boredom.

Tuesday is Super Tuesday, today. It the day the good citizens of California get to go to the polls and vote for whom they want to run for President this November. I have already voted. Sorry Hillary, I went with Obama. She had her chance to fix health care when Bill was in office and dropped the ball. I liked Bill, really, even though he was a lying cheater. The idea of him running around the White House again creeps me out.

This afternoon I am taking my car to get a motor mount replaced. It sprung a leak last week and it's been running like crap ever since. Jerky.

Tonight I work. 0300-1200.

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday. It is the start of Lent. This is the forty day window for fixing sins. What shall I give up? What should I fix? A year ago I quit drinking booze. Several people I knew had died and my best friend of thirty years was terminal. Her demise was inevitable. Getting loaded was not taking the pain away so I just stopped. I said to myself, quit for six months. Then I said to myself, you're more stubborn than that, make it a year. It was easy. Maybe I'll give up ice cream and lower my cholesterol.

I will give some thought to Thursday, Friday and Saturday another time.

Buzz

Today I have taken the first steps to make a Blog. Here it is. As I think of things to share, comment on or just rant about, they will drift in here. Into the beescape.