Everyday Stupidities

Hello, party people! I had a great weekend, the sort where you just want to take up surfing and pursue the endless summer after; the kind where you never want to punch a clock or deal with a consumer starfish ever again afterward. To get the issue out of the way: The state of my innards is okay but not solved. It was to my advantage that I ate mostly natural foods, didn't have much dairy, and laid off the Lamisil for three days [don't tell my bride!] so I feel somewhat better and things seems halfway solid, but by no means am I fully back to normal. My wife asks how I can have an appetite when I'm in this state, and she seems to have the tummy bug worse than myself, and I say that I need my nutrition and energy level up. I'm back at work and doing pretty well, mostly because for many Americans it's the Independance Day Extended Weekend. Or was, until the Workforce Manglers sent a bunch of techies home, so it's gone from 8 minutes between calls to 8 callers on hold.

The Taste of Tacoma was big and beautiful, and I'll have to remember that Friday is the best day to go due to a large but somewhat smaller than on a weekend day crowd. It's always tough to decide what to spend the food coupons on because there's so much good stuff, and I'm in the habit of not eating in the same places I've eaten in previous years. This time I had a seafood pita at the Bayou place and a chocolate-banana crêpe. I don't recall what munchies Paige had, but of course they were good. As usual we spent a couple hours at the comedy club tent, and saw two okay jokesters... maybe that's another Friday verses Weekend difference, usually we're in stitches but with these two we were merely amused. The real comedy was when this old woman near where we sat down for the second show got rowdy and slapped this chick at a table for "not showing respect" or something. The woman told the Liquor Control Board bouncer at the door, who called security, who escorted the oldster out about ten seconds before the comedian took the stage. (More fun with aggro senior citizens in a moment.) We had our fun and after a porta-potty stop or two we went home; surprisingly I got to bed at a reasonable hour, mostly by putting off my trip preparation until the morning. The image above, and the Taste is sponsored by a few auto dealers so this vehicle was being raffled off, is in regard to what I was complaining about last time, how vehicles with really really bad gas mileage are not only being produced but are being hyped heavily.

Saturday I loaded up my toothbrush and drove 145 miles south to Portland, arriving near noon-twenty because getting out of bed was a challenge. The trip down I-5 was interesting because there was this old man in a Beemer with California handicap plates who was tailgating me... and I was doin' 80 mph! Eventually he blazed past me (and everyone else), likely getting back home by nappy-time since Oregon is only 320 miles tall. Go Grandpa! Anyhow, I found the house courtesy of good directions (translation: I was given the street address of a location across the street that caused Google Maps to mark the right house, and a description of the house so I could find it once I reached the street address) and some friends, old and new, were there in the back yard, and other old and new friends came along as time passed. I took off my shoes and stayed on the back porch until probably 2am. The house was owned by the hosts' family for generations so it had a definite Grandma's House feel to it, and the hosts seemed to long for days they weren't born in -- they're in their early 20's and their decor favors the early 1970's (velvet paintings, amber lamps, owls, and other things I remember being surrounded by as a wee one). I took pictures and Snowcrash brought lightsticks, as you see below; the woman below was the one who said the line in the title above. When I finally called it a night, I took my sleeping bag to the spare bedroom office and got a dose of something I haven't encountered in a few years: their hardwood floor smelled like my wife's grandmother's kitchen (and I don't mean in the yummy food manner, I mean pet-smell-embedded-in-hardwood). Didn't really sleep and I blame the caffiene. Others may have been pleasantly faced by the Pabst Blue Ribbon but with the state of my gut I saw fit to avoid the demon brew. Around 9am everyone who was still present did the zombie-mosey and eventually we were all lucid enough to sit out on the back porch for another couple hours' worth of conversation and waffles, then come noon everyone cleared out. I visited nearly every rest stop on the trip north, not to use the john but to walk around hoping to stay conscious. (I wasn't drifting, I was avoiding getting to the drifting stage.) When I got home I did a couple things around the house, took a hot shower, sat down on the bed to get dressed and... zzzzzzzz. Rousted my bones after a couple hours to have dinner at Applebee's because I figured I needed the food (man does not live on two sodas and a waffle alone!), and after watching a home expo show on HGTV I hit the hay -- and stayed comatose until about 8am this morning. It's my lunch break as I write this, and since I didn't bring anything beside a cup of Tree Top applesauce I should wander to the store for something deeelicious and nuuutritious and good for me too. Cheers!