Category Archives: fun

2 bd/2 ba apt available – dogs OK


Tonight, as was I was fumbling with my keys to get into my house, I was besieged by the frantic barking of the dogs in the apartment building next door.

“Jesus, dogs, I live here. Can’t I come and go from my own house without you losing your shit?” I mutter to myself. (And yes, I know it’s not the dogs’ fault, but the humans. Still it gets old. Really old.)

It’s not a new complaint. These dogs are only the latest in a series of frantic dogs who have lived in that particular apartment over the years, which got me musing about the occupancy criteria.

Potential tenants (PT): We love it!  We’ll take it.
Landlord (LL): OK, great, but I need to ask you some questions first. Do you have a dog?
PT: Um, we have two. The ad said dogs were allowed.
LL: No, that’s great. How big are they?
PT: Oh, they’re small. Chihuahuas.
LL: Perfect. Do they bark a lot?
PT: Well, they’re protective. Yes, I guess they can be a bit vocal at times.
LL: But could you characterize them as “yappy”?
PT: Some might call them that. But, they’re only like that when they get bored or lonely.
LL: How often are they left alone?
PT: We both work, so they’re alone pretty much all day, and well, frankly most of the evenings too.
LL:  Are they territorial?
PT: Like we said, they’re protective. If anyone comes close to the house, they’ll probably bark.
LL: How close?
PT: I don’t know, 50 yards?  Yeah about half a football field in any direction sounds right.
LL:  Perfect!  Your dogs sound like they will continue the long distinguished history of bored-psycho-yappy dogs that have occupied this particular apartment. I’ll get you the paperwork and we’ll get you moved in ASAP. Welcome to the neighborhood.

It’s my cat’s birthday


Well, no, it’s really not.  In fact, I don’t even keep track of the birthdays of my cats.  I barely celebrate my own damn birthday, I’ll be damned if my cats get a bigger celebration than I do.  Not that I don’t love them, you know I do. And if I thought birthdays were important to them, I’d be all over that birthday thing, but as it is, well . . . I just don’t think they’re too tuned into the concept.

Being as it is 11:30 pm and I just got back from seeing a great show with Cheryl Wheeler and Kenny White, I don’t have time for much of  a post today, but I will share a fun video from a song by Cheryl Wheeler which she wrote about her cat’s birthday.  Enjoy.

My boyfriend is a dork


If I thought that he might actually read these words, I might think twice about writing this.  But, as my blog has nothing to do with peak oil, progressive politics or the stock market, I doubt he’d spend the time reading such trivialities as my writing.  So, I’m free to say it: my boyfriend is a dork.

He’s not always a dork.  In fact, for the most part, he comports himself quite admirably.  While completely disinterested in fashion, he does manage to dress himself in the standard guy uniform of jeans and a t-shirt, and knows when to up the ante to khakis and a button down shirt.  I’ve never had any moments where I’ve had to say “you’re wearing that?” Nor have I ever said in awe, “wow, you’re wearing that? Nice!”   In fact, I rather like that he is clueless about fashion.  A fashionable man is certainly nice to look at, but I’m guessing would be rather high maintenance. He’d be all fussy about how his clothes are handled, and would actually expect me to offer him a hanger or two in my closet.  Plus, then there’d be all this pressure for me to also dress fashionably.  Nah, I’d rather take a guy with some grease under his nails than a fop who is on a first name basis with the local dry cleaners.

So, as you can imagine, when it comes to accessories, he keeps it to the basics.  Being as he is a middle-aged man with a bald spot, there must be a baseball cap.  Again, nothing too embarrassing.  It’s a khaki colored cap advertising some obscure company that either he got for free at a green building fair, or I got a tech conference.  I don’t remember, I just know it is ever-present.

And then there are the sunglasses.  I have never met anyone as obsessed with his sunglasses as he is.  If there is even the slightest chance that we may encounter sunlight while outside, he simply must have his sunglasses.  I’ve stopped counting the times when I’ve had to wait in the car while he conducts a search for for his goddamn sunglasses. But, he’s not a brand fetishist by any stretch.  In fact, he used to make fun of me for spending $20 on a pair.  He’ll pride himself on getting a good pair for only $5. As long as they protect his eyes from exploding when in contact with sunlight, he’s happy.

He’s had this one pair of sunglasses for a pretty long time.  He even spent more than $5 on them.  Those damn sunglasses were the love of his life.  But, what with impermanence being the nature of all things, those sunglasses got stepped on and broken.  He called me just to tell me about that tragedy and how his first priority the next day was to go out and buy some new sunglasses.

On Sunday morning he debuted his new glasses to me as we got in the car to go to brunch.  “They were only $5 at K-Mart” he said proudly as he put on his new find.  When he put them on and looked at me, I paused.  “Uh . . . you know . . . um . . . sweetie?”   I almost started laughing, because for once he was actually in fashion.  That is, if he were a woman.  He was wearing these over-sized squarish sunglasses that are so favored these days by Hollywood starlets and the like.  Back in the old days, you might say they were slightly reminiscent of Jackie O’s signature sunglasses.

“Uh, sweetie, I think those are women’s sunglasses.” I said delicately, trying not to wound his male pride.

“Oh.  Yeah.  You could be right” he said as he looked in the mirror.

It was such a dorky moment, and I loved him for it. And in the end, he ended up getting a good pair of man’s sunglasses and he passed along the stylin’ chick’s sunglasses to me.  And I must say, I don’t think I look too dorky in them.

Creepy day at the flea market


Normally, I’m not one to head to bed before midnight, but I’m afraid my vintage is starting to show after a day at ye olde Vintage Faire. Between the heat and all the walking needed to cover this 5-6 acre glorified flea market, I’m all tuckered out.  So, rather than coming up with a lot of words, today’s post will mostly be images.  My friend Lori has a weird, and sometimes unseemly fascination with clowns and creepy dolls, and the Vintage Faire never fails to provide lots of those.   Enjoy.

Bob's Big Boy's less successful sister

Bob's Big Boy's less successful sister (taken by Lori M)

Bozo Kelly (taken by Lori M)
Bozo Kelly (taken by Lori M)
Zephyrella (taken by Lori M)
Zephyrella (taken by Lori M)
Flavia (taken by Lori M)
No more caffeine for you, young lady (taken by Lori M)
Somehow this model isn't making the couch look too comfy
Somehow this model isn’t making the couch look too comfy
Love is not sticking a wooden knob where the baby's head should be
Love is not sticking a wooden knob where the baby’s head should be
trange guy joined Lori and I in a 5 minute riff on on this doll wanted to kill us.

This doll as truly creepy. We were truly convinced that it originally had a hatchet in its hand instead of a candle. (taken by Lori M)

In search of inspiration


Maybe it is the longer days. Perhaps I have finally recovered from years of being busy most nights after work. Perhaps it is because I am bored (again) at work. But whatever the reason, when I come home from work at night, rather than appreciating the opportunity to relax, to vegetate on the couch and watch TV, I am finding myself bored. Bored at the office and bored at home just ain’t right. So, I am in search of my next great passion.

I have a closet full of the remnants of my past great passions. Perhaps passions is too strong a word, perhaps a more accurate word would be diversion. Mere diversions. Let’s see in the last few years I have tried:

soap making
learning to play the flute
this whole blogging thing
jewelry making

So, in search of inspiration, I lugged the boyfriend with me the Maker Faire at the San Mateo County Fairgrounds. It looked to be the best of geekery, Burning Man culture, and crafts. Certainly, I’ll be able to find something there.

I suppose I could put my collection of old pens to good use and create an art car:

Or find creative uses for my old computer components:

And knitting is always more interesting when you combine it with drumming:

And who doesn’t love giant flaming floral arrangements?

As fun as many of the exhibits were, I think I’ll have to stick with something a little smaller and manageable. So, for now, it is the jewelry kit that is getting dusted off. We’ll see if I can’t reignite that creative spark that seems to have gone out lately.

The best cure for depression


Puppy Bowl!

For the last four years during Super Bowl the Animal Planet channel has hosted the Puppy Bowl, which consists of three hours of puppies frolicking in a faux stadium setting. That’s it – frolicking puppies, with a half time show of frolicking kittens. I mean, good god, does it get any cuter than frolicking puppies?

I record the Puppy Bowl and hold onto it all year. Whenever I’m feeling kinda funky, I just watch a few minutes. Sure, I scare my non-frolicsome cats and the nervous rabbit when I squee with delight, especially with the water bowl cam POV. Puppy tongues! Puppy paws! Big puppies, little puppies, purebred puppies, mixed breed puppies. It’s pup-a-po-looza!

If they could bottle the joie de vivre these little guys have, Eli Lily would go out of business.

Hunting for clowns


Yesterday I came upon a great idea. Well, at least I think it’s a great idea. Perhaps it is not even an original idea. Ah hell, maybe it’s just stupid . . . but I like it! This brilliant idea? A photographic scavenger hunt.

The first Sunday of the month there is a huge vintage faire (yes, with that added “e” to make it sound extra olde timey) at an abandoned air base in Alameda. This is a huge flea market! I usually don’t even make it to the end before my dogs give out on me. But, I’ve gotten some good deals on some nice pieces there. And when I’m not in search of something in particular, it’s just fun to go to see all the stuff that reminds me of my childhood. Or as I told a vendor yesterday, “if I stare at this stuff any longer, I’m going to need to go back into therapy.”



The boyfriend and I asked Lana, my NKT widow friend, to join us since she had never been. Lana has a slightly unhealthy fascination with clowns, so shortly after we got there she found her first clown painting. And since she so seldom encounters clown art in her daily life, she took a picture of it. But, no sooner had she captured that one, there was another. And soon another. It was Clown-a-pa-looza! It seemed like every other booth had some kind of clown item – paintings, glass or porcelain, fabric, you name and someone has made a clown out of it. Even one of the vendors got into our clown quest as he said someone was selling a life size plastic clown. He tried to find the vendor for us, but alas, the clown had been purchased.

I don’t know if it was just a particularly clown heavy day, or since clowns are seldom something I am looking for, I have never noticed how many clowns I’m surrounded by. But, it’s like that, isn’t it? You’re thinking about buying a particular type of car, and suddenly it seems like every other car on the road is that type of car.

Perhaps next month if we go to the Alameda Flea, oh sorry, Vintage Faire (though this can be done at any flea), I’ll come up with a particular theme or item, and see how many I can find and photograph. It would be fun to do with other people just to see how different people would capture the item and compete for who found the most. And then we can post the results in an on-line gallery. Self-indulgent? You betcha? But what are digital cameras and free on-line photo galleries for if not self-indulgence?

More men in kilts


It appears that many people land on my blog by searching for “hot men in kilts”, or the less choosy “men in kilts”. So with a pure intention to benefit all sentient beings (who happen to like men in kilts) I bring you more men in kilts:




The fellow above was getting his pipes tuned.


All of these shot were taken at the Highland Games in Pleasanton Memorial Day weekend. It was a blazing hot day, and being the smart lads that they are, most were taking refuge in the shade – hence the spotty picture quality

Hot men in kilts



literally . . . it was over 100 degrees today in Pleasanton at the Highland Games. And while the kilts may facilitate some natural air conditioning to their nether regions, the rest of the get-ups just looked uncomfortable in that heat.


And then there were the other clowns people like the fellow to the right in the picture above, who were not part of any organized group, and therefore not mandated to wear wool. A lot of these folks looked like they decided to wear their Renaissance Faire costumes. Why? I honestly don’t understand it. But if it makes them happy . . . I’ll try and refrain from judging.

After we had our fill of pipes and drums, we headed over to the Sheep Herding competition. These dogs were amazing. So focused. I could probably learn a thing or two from these pooches. Talk about single pointed concentration! But, afterwards they were just fun, happy dogs who, like the rest of us, were looking for some respite from the heat.


There was also an exhibit of birds of prey, with a wide variety ranging from eagles to owls to falcons. I catch falcon fever in the spring, when I check in frequently on the the drama (albeit a very slow moving drama) of George and Gracie, the PG&E Peregrin Falcons. Where will they lay their clutch? How many will hatch? And, the big finale of the little ones’ fledging. While I can’t explain the fascination with the big birds, by the crowds at the birds of prey exhibit, I’m not the only one who finds them compelling.