Homer'sWorld

I'm frickin Nancy Drew. Tonight I solved The Mystery of the Huge Water Bill. Last month it was $265, this month it is $165. Normal bill is $35. Obviously something was very wrong. Was there an underground leak? No evidence for that, since there are no bright green grassy areas. Was someone stealing water? No way, Jose. Wait, Mike mentioned the guest house toilet flapper thing had been screwed up and he replaced it. I go inside the guest house and discover the toilet float thingy was messed up and water was basically running down the toilet. Just like those dollars running away from my checking account. Just imagine, in two months I spent an entire year's worth of water. Well, that was a lesson learned.

Tonight's theme is "Compassion," so I won't go out and do any bad things to relieve the stress I feel after replacing the float. It works nicely now, I'm great with toilets.

I wonder if one of the side effects of those pretty expensive purple pills is random itchiness. There is this spot on my temple that itches quite severely every hour or so. I need to find someone to scratch my itch for me.


Self portrait of the itchy one.

Okay I admit it. I am an anti-Republican bigot. Just read about their family values plank- no gay rights ever. I wonder what social conservatives expect the millions of gays and lesbians to do? [note, I thought about linking "social conservatives" to some vile website, but decided that they probably had all examined those websites in their crusade to uncover the filth in our society anyway]. Why couldn't their fucked-up tribulation take place and they could all just go away. I promise not to bring that topic up again, I am over it. Waste of time.

Thinking happy thoughts. Like Maria Von Trapp. She sang "My Favorite Things" when she was all bitter about being saddled with those singing stepbrats, so I'll think of some of my favorite things:

Fresh cotton candy
Surprise presents
The Moulin Rouge soundtrack
Grilled cheese sandwiches
My Smokey the Bear teddy bear
Philip in Nebraska
Puff, waiting at the door when I come home
Chocolate milkshakes
New friends like Sandy and Mark
Reading my buddies' blogs

Your questions answered. People often ask me questions via the comment thingy. I often forget to respond.

1). Archerr, Karen and Pua asked "How did you convince the repairman to have his picture taken?" The tried and true method for repairman pictures is to bring out the camera early on, sorta like foreplay, and work from pictures of the project area, to action shots, and then to a final portrait. Most everybody likes to pose- just ask Panchesco.

2). Mark, Wayne, and Archerr want to know "Who?" in reference to me seeing a fellow blogger on a naked personal website. Actually, at least three of the bloggers in my links can be found on a couple of personal websites in various states of undress. Having invested the time in finding them, I feel it is only fair that readers spend many hours trolling through trolls to find their fellow bloggers (and friends, relatives, politicians, etc) in their natural state.

3). Sushil asked "Have you seen double hibiscus?" Is that legal in Arizona?

Changing the subject. Joey cat is so funny. She loves dairy products but after licking the tiniest amount of milk or yoghurt she immediately vomits, poor thing. So this afternoon she managed to stick her head into a yoghurt contained and lick, lick, lick. She likes it so much I let her. But the moment she finished she gave me that look and BARF. Poor kitty. I just need to ignore her meowing when she hears me open a container of yoghurt or cottage cheese.

The plumber was a redhead. Now frequent readers of my soap opera-like life know that I always hope for attractive repairmen, and with one exception, have been pretty lucky. They will also know that redheads are a personal favorite. Today Ken the plumber turned out to be both cute and hot- he had a hunky body underneath his striped shirt and blue work pants. Even his boots, with the soles practically worn out, were hot.




Ken spent three hours replacing the part of the toilet pipe the darn toilet is attached to (how romantic), thrusting new fixtures into the tub, and replacing two of my valves. Get your mind out of the toilet, Ken also had a gold wedding band. Oh well, dreams don't often come true.

And speaking of redheads, while at the Safeway last night, while looking for a can of soup, there was a way cute redhead taking inventory. He was one of those tannable redheads, with the perfect color hair and eyes. Plus he asked me if I needed help. I was tempted to explain that I am single and could use a 5'8"redhead to stock my shelves at home, but Homer isn't that forward. Yet.

Back to the regular scheduled show...

I'm in a swing state and so I get to hear stupid political advertisements. The ones the Republicans run are pretty nasty and "effective," in that they make John Kerry out to be the son of Satan. Funny how they can't come up with any positive things to say about Bush. Kerry's ads are focusing on his strong points or very bluntly point out how sour the economy is. They need to crawl in the dirt a little- maybe have Michael Moore do an advert or two on Bushie.



Datura blossoms at work.

Plumber is coming tomorrow to fix the plumbing in the cat bathroom. Sunday will see the floorboards replaced and then the following weekend will be THE SANDING. I wonder how much more dusty my house will be, since walking around barefoot results in instant dirty feet.

Oh, and how common is it to run across a former roommate or friend or blogger on a gay nude personal website? Based on a perusal last night I would say- at least one of each.

A little early, but happy 100th Grandpa F.


Harold and Ann, circa 1930.

Grandpa F. would be 100 years old on September 9th. He died in April 1972 from a heart attack. I remember my Uncle Fred coming to the door as we had supper (hot dogs, as it was) and saying to my mother, "Carolyn, he's gone." Grandpa was afraid of doctors and had had a heart attack and didn't tell anybody, the second attack killed him, although he lived for a week in the hospital, long enough to see his newly born eighth grandchild.

Harold had a difficult life. His father died when he was three from blood poisoning. His mother Grace raised Harold and Byron and Bessie, eventually marrying a distant cousin. Grandpa dropped out of school in the eighth grade to help on the farm. Eventually he went to work for Michigan Bell as a lineman, stringing telephone lines across northern Michigan. His co-worker George had a sister Ann. They met and dated, Grandpa writing love letters from boarding houses as he worked the lines. I read the letters back in 1998, sitting on the floor next to the fireplace at their house a few days after Grandma died. In them Harold told of going to movie theaters to see the new talking movies, he hunted and fished, helped make a model airplane with Ann's younger brother James.

Grandpa and Grandma married in 1931 and my mom showed up the next year, just as the Depression made life difficult. He lost his job for a while, went to work at the wooden bowl factory. When times improved he went back to the phone company and worked their until 1964. He had three sons after my mother, saw each of kids attend college. Hunted, fished, painted, carved, made homemade snowshoes, traveled with Grandma. Had two cottages, I wish we still had the one on Lake Ann, but Grandma sold it for nothing (it is now worth a half million!). I remember him making me a leather wallet that I still have. He was a good grandpa, someone who made time for each of his grandchildren. Some things were beyond him though. When my brother Buck and I got rabbits he told us that the difference between boy and girl rabbits were that boy rabbits had longer ears. That didn't work out very well- we ended up with a lot more rabbits.

I wish he had lived longer, wished he had been able to do the things he wanted to do. I wish I could have gotten to know him better, I remember him as an eight-year-old and I wonder how we would have related a few years later. But that's life, I guess, and I'm thankful for the time we did have with each other. Happy 100th Grandpa.

I've had some nice emails- from Michele (who was my best friend in high school), her co-worker Allison (they live in Sault Ste. Marie, so cold in the winter!), Tom from Illinois, Rob who used to live in Tucson, and Roman from LA (let me know when you are coming through Tucson). I guess it is flattering to know that people enjoy what I write- the whacky humor, the absolutely fascinating minutae of my daily life, the occasional political rant.

Suddenly it feels like fall here in Tucson- highs in the 80s. Today it rained in the afternoon, I sat working on a map with Catherine as the raindrops drummed against the window. Such a relief from the horrid summer heat, which will of course be back again for a few more months.



Hibuscus, this morning.

Places I want to go to and why:

Mexico, Mexico City- interesting culture
Peru, Lima- what's it like living at such a high elevation?, plus women wearing bowler hats
Iceland- cool volcanoes
Greenland- glaciers and Viking ruins
Crete- Palace of Minos where the Minotaur was supposed to live in his maze
Turkey- Aphrodias has amazing Roman statues
Kenya- elephants and giraffes
Alaska- grizzly bears and mutant Republicans
Japan, Tokyo- what's it like cramming so many people in such a small place?
Canada, Toronto- Oslynn tells me it is a wonderful place

Places I want to return to and why:

Washington, D.C.- Jimbo and John G. along with the National Archives and all those interesting documents
San Francisco- fog and queers
New York City- Patch and the other blogger boys, my best friend Les
Prague- prettiest city ever and so cheap
Hawaii- beautiful flowers and amazing terrain

I've seen most of the United States, so I'm more interested in international travel. Too bad my checkbook doesn't have the same aspirations.

Instead of going to karoake to see if I could find the winker, I plastered the walls around the bathtub.

Next- final plaster coat, sanding, painting; replacement of faucets and spout, finding replacement tiles, later I'll have the tub re-surfaced.




Joey's sink is gone- I'm replacing it with an old-fashioned pedastal sink.

Meanwhile, I only have a small amount of plaster work left in the kitchen and then have to finish doing the detailed painting.

Floors are next weekend.

Well, maybe I'll go back to look for that winker in a couple of weeks and ask him over for dinner in my new-improved kitchen.

I asked Richard after we watched Napolean Dynamite how he would describe that movie. We were both a tad stunned I think, it is a very different movie. I even used a different color. Wayne will like it because there is a llama in it.

I was doing yardwork when Doug called and he came over and allowed me to take a break without feeling guilty. We drank heavily (lemonade) and had us a nice little chat. I enjoy hanging out with Doug, he is funny, in a good way. We discussed A.'s dance moves. A. goes to karoake at IBTs on Sunday afternoons and is quite energetic interpreting songs. The time he did "I touch myself" was, well, touching. He certainly enjoys himself.

I ramble. Just finished the yardwork, which should make the next door neighbors happy. I even mowed the grass of my other next door neighbors, who have apparently moved away, taking Buddy dog with them. Now she was the sweetest dog and I would have taken her in if I didn't have three cats. I wonder who she is barking at now?

Do you remember the old kind of television that you would turn off and there would be this little spot of light that would last a while? How about when you dialed "O" on the phone and an operator would actually answer? Or space sticks and how astronaut food tasted kind plasticky but was cool to eat.

Do you recall how the hills were higher when you were five? And cleaning Grandma's living room was really fun? How about eating a raspberry Twinkie with Grandpa everyday for months because he had gotten a whole grocery bag of them at the Dolly Madison day-old store? Or playing crazy eights with Mamma the year before you went to kindergarten? I sometimes wonder whether anyone remembers these sort of things, so I write them down so I won't forget them myself.



I made a time capsule, using a jam jar that Doug gave me, and put it below the bottom shelf of my new pantry. Inside the jar is a business card and two pages of photos of the kitchen project, with a short note from me. I folded up the front section of Saturday's newspaper and put it inside a baggy. Another baggy held a Mexican bingo game, a set of images that are popular here in Tucson. Doug signed the inside woodwork and then nailed the bottom shelf down. Someday somebody will pull that shelf up and find a surprise. I hope it makes a happy memory for them.

Those expensive purple pills have finally kicked in, as long as I remember to take one at four AM and one at four PM. Such a relief to not have a constant stomach ache [Lope asked how one gets acid reflux- in my case I have a hiatal hernia, my stomach is pushed up too far]. The concurrent insomnia, well that turned out to be too much caffeine so I've cut back dramatically on diet cola. Side effect, I get super sleepy at work. I wonder if the general dullness of work has anything to do with that?

Took the afternoon off and had a little nap, interrupted by numerous phone calls. Finally I got up and painted the inside of my cabinets light green. How do I manage to get so much paint on myself? As I peel it off I discover a second gray chest hair. Oh no.

You know, it is really warm in Tucson during the winter. Maybe I can convince some of the northern blogger guys to come visit. I have a king sized bed, by the way.

I'm not holding my breath for that call, but maybe if I did it would come sooner. At this very moment it would be nice to go on a date and have silly chit-chat and maybe go for a walk and steal a kiss under a tree. But knowing how things are I would probably get pigeon poop on me. So anyway....

My new mantra "Stay away from Republicans!" They are satanic, I swear they all bear the mark of the beast. I guess I'm supposed to overlook GW's lying and gay-bating because, 'He's really not that bad a guy." Holyfuckinpieceofshit, Batman. So I'm just going to say no and write that check to the "Democrats" and hope that come next January GW and Laura go off to Texas to fuck each other and not the whole country.

In other news, I'm going to go watch the Amazing Race with the boys tonight. CBS posted the new Survivor cast and it includes two out lesbians. There aren't enough lesbians on the telly, in my unbiased liberal opinion. We need more lesbians and less bush.

At Elvis karoake I sat next to Panchesco as he unsuccessfully looked for a song to sing. Later I pointed out the cute guy in the bright blue tee-shirt. "He's cute." I said. A little while later the aforementioned cute guy winked at me and I wandered over and we talked for a while, before he sang a song and got second place. After a second song Panchesco told me, "I told you so" about a certain singing habit of the cute blue tee shirt guy. I didn't care, because Mark T. is cute and has a nice smile and he winked at me. It isn't often that I get winked at. It makes a good impression on me, especially when I am feeling a bit lonely.

So I sat with Mark T. and this other guy and listened as they traded some rather remarkable and sad stories involving surviving a flash flood and the resulting nine month hospital stay, waving at Pat Nixon, policeman anecdotes, a young wife dying from a stroke, and a 150-ft fall. Thankfully I had no similar stories to share. I did discover that Mark, who looks remarkably youthful, is actually only 364 days younger than me. Well now comes the interesting part- will he take out that card and call or email me? Stay tuned.

Breakfast with John. John was down from Phoenix and he called bright and early this morning to make sure I didn't have breakfast. I was thinking about painting windows again, but was glad to hold off.



Right front window, first coat.

He pulled up in his butch truck- it still surprises me because he had always had this big tan Volvo station wagon, which he needed for his work.

I am always happy to hang out with John. We have a fun time and I can tell him things that I can't tell other people. John was friends originally with my old roommate R. and used to call to chat with him, but since R. was never around, he and I would talk. So for about six months I would be on the phone with this person, who I had never met. Finally at a party I ran into him and we have been best buddies ever since. He is perhaps one of the three people in this world that I would call a "best friend."



John with the left front window in the background.

We hop in my car and drive over to the Cup, which is located in a hotel built around 1919. They have great food and always interesting people to see, although the cute redhead waiter wasn't there this morning.



The Cup Cafe.

We sit outside and little birds hop around nearby, hoping in their tiny little heads that we will drop some tasty morsel. John and I talk about interesting things like people we know, crystal meth, modern architecture in Minnesota, a famous artist, and so on.



John peers over Thursday's New York Times.

I attempt to take a self portrait.


It wasn't very successful.

The table items were interesting.


Still life at the Cup.


Self portrait in creamer.

Afterwards we drove around and looked at houses and the antique stove store before coming back to my house. As I started work on the other front window, scraping off paint and replacing putty, I could hear John talking to Doug, who is creating the cupboard above my stove. Some Sunday mornings are just about perfect.

Today's home improvements- Doug grouted the tile on the counter. I painted the front awning and one window. Taping the glass was time consuming, luckily Avi and Mike stopped by and entertained me. Tonight I painted the inside of the cabinets above the fridge and scraped the old paint off of the window panes from the front door.

In between I took Curtis over to Buffalo Exchange with six huge bags of vintage clothes. He was able to sell them a huge pile- I commented that it almost made me want to be a girl cause the women's clothes he was selling were so cool. But if I was a girl I couldn't enjoy going bald, so not going to happen.

My new vintage chrome and formica kitchen table and chairs:

Nothing exciting today. I had insomnia last night- too much caffeine and way too hot. The cats enjoyed the extra attention, they get excited and Mama Cat and Puff do this thing with their paws, thrusting the wicked sharp nails in and out. I roll over and tell Puff "Stop!" and he hears "Do it again!" I feel like a big old pincussion.

Tomorrow the sink gets grouted and Sunday Doug starts work on the final cabinets. I priced floor sanders this morning- they are cheap to rent, the sandpaper is pricy. I'm stripping some paint and sanding on the awning over my front door- getting rid of the spots where the old paint is bubbled up. Four layers- (oldest to newest) tan, dark red, turquoise, turquoise blue. Soon to be bright dark purple.

Had to come inside because there is a lightning storm going on, but no rain. The drought we are having in Arizona is continuing- and my trees are showing it, their leaves all shriveled.

Well that was a boring entry, wasn't it?

It's a NewsGay. I feel so fucking popular because us gay folks are in the news so much. Getting tired of signing autographs and the goddam papparazi- I mean I can't even cornhole hot Republican congressmen without some photographer lurking outside of my window (and by the way, Dick Cheney, stop calling me, I wouldn't poke your nasty ass for all of the pretty 1940s-1950s knick knacks in the world. I just don't care that Bob Dole got you a discount on Viagara, you are just plain ugly, a regular triple bagger [one bag on your head and two on mine, just in case both come off as I squirm from repulsion]). In contrast, the newly queer New Jersey governor is kinda cute.

Now that that's off my chest.... I tried this morning to take charming photos of Puff, my black cat, but he is completely unphotogenic. Partly that is because he's a black cat, and looks like a black blob in most pictures and partly because he doesn't take photo directions very well. "Look this way!" I tell him and he immediately looks the other way. Joey is a tad better, and because she is orange, she looks much better (you must know by now of my fondness for redheads. Woof. Well, I don't look at Joey like that).

So anyway, ummmmm- lot's of excitement happening. Watched the Amazing Race with Doug and Abe and David. We yelled at the television and David and I disagree strongly about Charla (I like, he not). I've had some nice emails lately- Mouse sent me mashed potatoes via email, Palochi thinks that Arizona is hot, and Robert sent me a movie to watch, Puff and Joey are excited that it has subtitles but were all upset when I told them they weren't in Cat.


Look at the camera Puff and Joey! Goddam cats!

Minor complaints. It is sauna-like in my house, heat and humidity. My complexion is suffering, I feel like a teenager.

I managed to stub my big toe and tear the nail really far back. Ouch, at least I didn't scream real loud like the time I broke my little toe. People still make fun of me for that.

My replacement cell phone is making me re-enter all 65 phone numbers. Sigh.

Three times in the last couple of weeks I've been told that liberals are "haters." In all three cases this was from Republicans (including the two gay guys I've mentioned earlier). Today I left a comment on a Republican-run website regarding gay marriage and was accused of being a hater (as well as a cornholer, a little bitch, and a rest area sex addict, NICE!). This sort of mindset reminds me of Slobodan Milosevic, who used historical events from a 1000 years ago to justify genocidal attacks against ethnic Muslims. He would claim that it was really the Serbs who were victims, even though they were the ones in power. If I remember correctly, the Nazis also used it to justify their persecution of Jews. It is so strange that the Republicans, who control the federal government and most state governments and the courts, are trying to pretend they are the "victims" of liberal "hate." I'm guessing that Rush Limbaugh and his fellow mouthpieces are spreading this sort of garbage.

A non-complaint my purple front door looks so fabulous. But I'm sure some conservative will state that painting my front door that color is hateful.

Colors- somebody commented and asked if I was going to paint my front door "barf" color. Well, I guess if you drink a gallon of grape Kool-Aid and jammed your finger down your throat.




The same person said "please tell me you're not painting the door sunshine yellow like your kitchen.barf." Yeah, well my sunshine yellow kitchen has always cheered me up when I was down, and everyone who saw it in person liked it (well, except for the cable repair guy, so really I should say "everyone-1"). Anyway, so the new kitchen colors can be admired in the self portrait below:


Light blue ceiling, light yellow walls, light green interior cabinets, pink Homer.

It started to rain and I sanded the extra putty off of the door. By the time I started painting the primer on the rain was largely finished and when I glanced out the window the sky was pink.



Backyard sunset.

The sun was setting behind Tumamoc Hill, a small mountain where the Desert Laboratory has studied vegetation for about 100 years. Near the top of the hill are terraces built 1,000 to 2,000 years ago by Native Americans. They farmed up there, and because the terraces include some defensive features, were probably were watching for attacks by other groups.

Mike was multi-tasking, talking on the phone, drinking a beer, and watching the dog. Faja was single-tasking, "Play with me now!" is what she seemed to say as she ran up to me and looked up. She's a sweet doggy.


Mike and Faja next to my mesquite tree. The shed is in the process of being removed.

This old door. The original front door of my house, from 1927, has been leaning up against the shed in my back yard for five years. I've wanted to have it replicated and today I was playing with Mike's dog Faja and saw it. I dragged it out and brought it to my backyard. Looking at it, I realized it wasn't in that bad of shape- the door panel needed to be replaced and a pane of glass was missing, everything else was cosmetic. So I spent the morning and early afternoon stripping paint and sanding. I'll finish that this coming week, puttying the holes and cracks, and then Doug will replace the panel. After painting, it is going to be my front door again.



Door before.


Stripped and sanded.

To the person who wanted the police car photo, please email me- it isn't a great picture.

Gosh I love my digital camera. So handy to take pictures. At the dedication of the new I-10 & I-19 interchange I ran into Jamey and Bill and we walked around.


Overheated conehead.

The woman in this costume must have been miserable- it was pretty hot by 10 AM.

Speaking of hot, all three of us agreed this engineer was hump-worthy.


Cutest guy there.

I saw southern Arizona's cocksucking Republican congressman.



He voted for the Defense of Marriage Act, idiot.

Of course he was hanging out next to the hunky baseball player.



Sidewinder's stud.

I chatted with the policemen and admired the 1948 police car, which will still go 80 mph.



Self portrait in fender.



Did I mention there was a cute guy there?

At the supermarket I see Byron, my favorite cashier, as I walk in. He's beefy, blonde, and a little stand-offish. David and Abe agree, there's something about him. I grab a red basket and make a bee-line for the medicine aisle and buy two boxes of that expensive purple pill. Maybe if I take enough I will stop the awful acid reflux and single-handedly make the company very profitable.

Afterwards I walk down the beer-cookie-cracker-cheese aisle. The cookies tempt me, since I like to eat comforting things, especially with a burning mid-section. But instead I decide I'll grab ice cream instead. I pick out my favorite Mexican cheese and fat free milk, making sure I get the one with the later expiration date. I grab a box of cereal and in the produce section I spot the former congressman's wife and she says hello and we make small talk as I pick out a couple of bananas.

By the time I get to the register Byron is gone, so the nice Mexican guy drags my groceries over the glass screen and I spend almost as much on purple pills as I do on food. Outside the store a kid is riding the little plastic police car thing, beaming with happiness and it makes the "RRRR, RRRR" sound.

Interesting facts. My friends Bob and Steve are getting hitched and are having a reception in early September. They are such lovely men, always there to lend an ear when I need to talk to someone.

Dan Froomkin sent me a thank-you note for alerting him about the Bush-Cheney campaign questioning people about the race of a photographer. The story ended up getting some national coverage as a result. I guess I'm a troublemaker!

Okay, so I have a huge creative streak and yesterday I could have written a rather dull entry and posted the bunny picture. Instead I thought to myself, 'What would happen if people brought rabbits to work?" No, I don't need drugs to be creative. In fact, drugs would do the exact opposite I think.

Having dinner with woofy W. tonight. He asked me, I said "Sure." Thankfully the acid reflux is only slightly active at this moment.

Bring Your Rabbit to Work Day was great fun until it happened. I was heading back to my desk to grab some Sweet&Low for Simone's double frothy-latte when Francesca blurted out, "Oh Fernando, Little Bunnie Foofoo nipped me!" I turned, and even from where I stood I could see that drop of glistening blood welling up out of her forefinger, so red and shiny and heavily scented with hemoglobin. "Oh crap!" I thought. Everybody knows that rabbits were only domesticated a short while ago. Why only a scant handful of generations past they were the most feared carnivores in the northern hemisphere, traveling in packs, hunting down moose, elk, and Norwegian virgins.

Fernando was busy protesting, "Foofoo would never nip you! She has the best manners and her obedience coach says she is ready for level seven training!" his accent stronger than Simone's coffee beverage. And all around my thirteen co-workers the fourteen rabbits and hares sat quietly sniffing, their cute button noses flaring in and out. Missy Muffet, Dominique's darling Belgian Hare, turned and with a quick swipe of her paw, disemboweled Fernando, who instantly stopped recounting Little Bunny Foofoo's outstanding traits and instead decided to scream very loudly. As did the other twelve co-workers as Simone's small Lilac, Percival Fancypaws, amputated Gwen's left arm and my overweight Cavy, Glinta Glitterears, made blood sausage out of Olive M. Meanwhile Olive P. was trying to crawl away as Charley's spotted Holland Lop nibbled off her toes.

I turned and ran away, ran as fast as I could, knowing that an enraged Netherland Dwarf, like Ashley's charming Fortescue, has been clocked darting at 40 miles an hour. I just made it, slamming the door shut as Fortescue barked in anger, his sharp nails tearing into the lower panel. A call to 911, and a few minutes later the SWAT team arrived and well, if you really need to know, those rabid rabbits bit the dust as the hot SWAT guys put their terrorist rabbit training to good work. Except they missed little Sasha, who scurried into the ductwork and worked her way into the sewers and then loped away from the office. Who knows where she will show up, or what evil she will do? Every night I lie awake, listening for the soft patter of her paws, and the angry screech of a rabbit with blood lust on her mind.



Sasha, at work today.

Picture day. I had a fun day going down to look at a couple of ghost towns along the San Pedro River- my company will be submitting a bid to prepare detailed maps of them. I brought along my digital camera and here are some pictures.



An old iron water storage tank from the early 1880s.


The sky was bright blue, big fluffy clouds coming in from the east.


It has rained a lot in southeastern Arizona, so the plants were lush. This particular plant has beautiful leaves, but is apparently rather poisonous.


The mills processed ore to extract silver. Large rock walls remain, with a scattering of artifacts.


Prehistoric rock art is found on some boulders near one of the mills.


A barrel cactus on the way in was swollen with water and had just started blooming.

A little dehydrated by the end of the morning, but I really enjoyed getting out of the office.

Buncha crap:

1). Terror warnings or the capture of terrorists closely correlated with the current political campaign.

2). Dick Cheney comes to Tucson and the Bush re-election campaign questions the local newspaper over the racial background of a photographer. I sent an email to columnist Dan Froomkin of the Washington Post and the article on the incident was in his column today. The local newspaper is publishing a letter I wrote. Woohoo- that makes two letters in the last three weeks.

3). My water bill- $265. I have no clue why it is so high, I did overwater some trees one day, but I didn't think it was that much.

4). Jimbo shaved off his beard! Oh the humanity!

Busy, busy, busy this morning- painting, sanding, cleaning, moving furniture. The shelf in the living room is done- now I just need to find more suitable things to put on it (see July 1 for a before image). I grabbed a few items for the picture below. Doug almost finished tiling- ran out of adhesive, and then he screwed the doors back on ( See the entry for June 22 for the before picture). I still have to finish plastering and painting in the kitchen and Doug has to make two more cabinets, one above the stove and one enclosing the space where the water heater once was. I'm going to put a time capsule below the latter cupboard, with some pictures and maybe a history of the house. I wonder who will find that, someday far in the future.



Doug assembling the spice cabinet.


Knick-knack shelf next to the cat's favorite scratching post, my dark green sofa.