So who would have thought you could find fresh collards in California in January. And at someplace as generic as Safeway yet? This bodes well for Sunday dinner, a belated New Year’s Day “good luck” meal at a friend’s house.
Web work makes for strange bedfellows. It seems there will be a Wintel machine in my house this weekend. I’m getting it ready to serve up a database for one of my sites. Until now I’ve managed never to have a Windozer in my home.
I’ll have to keep it away from all the good computers lest they become contaminated by it. I’d hate for my Mac to start displaying everything with big ugly fonts and for it to start calling itself “My Computer”. Sounds a little too much like a Fisher-Price toy.
Long weekend ahead.
I’m still back at my old location about 20 hours a week, and the freelance stuff has started to take off. A year has passed since I got marginally sucked back in to help open a new store. And suddenly, I find my store under construction, being totally remodeled. Haven’t we played this scene before?
As a part-time Administrative Assistant, one of my duties is to facilitate the annual holiday party. Anyone who’s even done this knows what fun that is. Two things are essential: tons of food and tons of booze. The space and all other concerns are secondary.
Fortunately, we had a good space too thanks to the a connection at the Casting Couch microcinema. Not only was the spot really comfortable, but we got to see “Frosty” and “The Grinch” in grotesque detail as they were projected behind us. The drunker everyone got, the scarier the claymation figures got.…
The lack of smoking facilities inside made the front door area more and more popular as the night wore on. Things also begain to calm down a bit as the free booze ended between 9:30 and 10. By 11 or so, the exodus had commenced in earnest, with one faction (yer humble host included) migrating to a “queer boys night out” in the South of Market Area I call home. I’ll skip that part of the story for right now, lest I have to change the names to protect the innocent.
Mable Apple died Sunday 29 June 1997.
Nina Flynn died Thursday 19 June 1997.
If ever two women had very little in common, it was these two. They did not know each other, they lived on different coasts, and were of different generations and mindsets. Their only “bonds” were the facts of my acquaintance with both and the fact that they both passed away in the past two weeks.
Mable Apple was my aunt — my father’s sister. She died this morning after suffering three strokes in a short period of time. Aunt Mable possessed a wonderful sense of humor with a slightly ironic edge despite the fact that she lived her entire life in a small, conservative Southern town. She was a hard-working woman, but also a generous one, and she never had a bad thing to say to me. She was also deeply religious, but was also able to look at the inconsistencies and the silliness of church life with a wry humor that I always found refreshing. I’ll miss her tremendously. She was a definer of the term “unconditional love”.
Nina Flynn was a recent acquaintance, so recent in fact that we hardly knew each other. She was a Fellow Kinkoid and a Planet SOMA fan and correspondent and was eagerly awaiting the publication of her first story on these pages. We met briefly on two occasions, both times within the insane context of Kinko’s. I wish that we had been able to spend more time together; I think I would have liked her brand of humor and her outlook on life. Nina died suddenly and unexpectedly last week in her sleep, the victim of an apparent seizure.
Again, these two women have nothing in common, except that I will from now on be denied their presence in my life. For this, I am truly sad.
Final week…I can do this, I think. Doug, God bless him, returned from Nashville with two boxes of Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. It is damn near impossible not to love him for that.