Yesterday we went to Daddy’s (Secret) Beach. It was crowded, but accessible. Many seals swam by and the pelicans were a treat to watch. They flew just inches off the water and then dropped into the waves, their wings just skimming the face of the waves. Big surfer birds. Then we went home and got set up for a barby exploding with flavor. Right before the hound exploded through the screendoor -
Then it was off to the fireworks.
Everything was going swimmingly, until the hill caught on fire. Both the fireworks and the fire got a big round of applause.
Mr. Never Gonna Retire and I went to lunch at King Taco today. Always the best carne asada burrito that money can buy. We take the light rail to get there. On the way back we sat at the end of a car where the seats are along the sides. Standing in the nearby “between” the cars space were two Metro Cops. Our soon-to-be acquaintance strolled into the car with a big cup of fancy coffee. No food or drink allowed. He sees the Metro Cops and does a 180 so quick, it looked as if he was on a skateboard, but he wasn’t. Almost before the Metro Cops can give him the nasty eyeball, he’s back aboard, sitting down, explaining how he was just about to put that cup in the trash, you see. Our skinny, gregarious train-mate has a gift for gab. He comments on Mr. Never Gonna Retire’s company badge and explains that he once lived near the Puerto Rico facility. He speaks, somewhat longingly, about his time there and the lifestyle he had there. Says (in too many words) the natural allure combined with a laidback attitude was second only to Hawaii as a place to drift and waste time. Sounds pretty good! He and Mr. Never Gonna Retire discussed some specific locations, as Mr. Never Gonna Retire has been there before. Our stop came quickly and we left our chatty pal. After we got off the train, I asked Mr. Never Gonna Retire if he had noticed that the fingernails of our acquaintance were all painted an almost black midnight blue. He said he hadn’t.
The Laker season was extended eight weeks beyond the regular season. And just look at this place the last eight weeks. Five posts. Of which, three were Laker related. We need to catch up on everything else. But eight weeks is much to recall. Not sure I even do. Should I start back eight weeks and work forward? Or begin here and go backwards? Wait, I have something. But it may be from more than eight weeks ago. And I may have written about it before. I’ll do a search of the blog. Nothing there, so it’s a tale to be told. Hold on. Why not go even further back? All right, then. Eleven weeks ago, this mesmerizing piece of crap stopped spinning and began a revolt against revolution.
nice chair, dude
The defiant drive was replaced and a very plain computer suddenly appeared where once ours had vibrated so luminously. Not to worry, I’ve backed up almost everything. Everything except the last ten days. The damn thing lulled me into a false sense of…something. What is lost* from these last ten days? A remix with a really good groove, better than anything before it. Some original digital paintings, again, the best so far. But I’ve begun the plan for data retrieval. *I’m thinking I get one of these and then somehow determine just how long to freeze Mr. Attitude Drive as part of his big adventure.
Just got back from lunch. I didn’t go to Trader Joe’s. I’m kinda burnt out on TJ’s right now. And tomorrow is the Mexican restaurant, as Wednesday is picadillo taco day. Even though I’m also kinda burnt out on picadillo tacos. So, I took a bit of a walk to a place that features a dollar menu. Four items from the dollar menu cost me…four dollars. Now I’m burnt out on 100-cent cheeseburgers. But the milk was good. On the way there I waved to no less than four fellow employees driving around in their fossil fueled vehicles. One even offered me a ride. I declined because I planned on peering at puppies at the local pet store. Not that I need one. I just like seeing what’s new caninerly. My left thumb still hurts. Yesterday that hand suffered an inflammation attack. Right around dinnertime. I experienced, first hand, the challenge of tending the barby with reduced prehensility. Due to the circumstances, Mrs. p was quickly promoted to barby-buntender. I’d give her effort two thumbs up. If only I could.
