Homer'sWorld

Jimbo and Homer's Excellent Adventure was both. We drove to San Carlos, Sonora on Route 15. At the tourist visa station we chanced upon a mama dog and her variously colored pups.


Pieta.

In some ways the dog symbolized life in Sonora- difficult, harsh, and enduring. Sonora is a fairly empty place, the population concentrated into a handful of towns. The countryside is deserted and a desert, in some places horribly overgrazed by cattle. The people do what they can to survive, you can see why people would choose to come to the United States looking for a better life.

Jimbo's lunch at Santa Ana.

The drive to San Carlos took longer than I remembered, of course the last time I was there was in 1994. We ended up in a Best Western, oh god, the lava rocks we slept on there made my back ache.

"Tu, solo tu," in honor of Patrick.

Luckily the margaritas at dinner were nice and strong. Saturday morning I was up early and sat on the beach by myself, watching the pelicans, grebes, sea gulls, swallows, and frigate birds. In the distance I could hear the barking of sea lions.


Mexican self portrait.

A very friendly and cute dive shop employee told us where to go to see wildlife. Jimbo is a bird watcher, and we talked about how many gay guys aren't really into nature or getting dirty and so on.

In the mangroves.

The estuary leading out to the Sea of Cortez had probably 20 species of birds- blue herons, egrets, avocets, long-billed curlew, several types of gulls, grebes, pelicans, a cardinal, along with crabs and fish. Colorful shells lay on the ground and the path crossed over prehistoric shell mounds. I managed to spot prehistoric pottery sherds among the thousands of shells. Jimbo's new camera takes great zoom photos.


Egret.

My camera is better for close ups.


Jimbo and Homer, on the beach.

Sunday morning we sat right back and took a two-hour-tour. Just us and a pack of old ladies, with a screeching tour guide who qualified as a "repeater." Apparently, it is best when making a incorrect factual statement that is somewhat wrong, to repeat said error or observation over and over and over again. The tour guide-ess's inane babbling almost ruined the trip, but the opportunity to see and smell bird shit close up (or as the tour guide-ess insisted on calling it "poo"), was exciting.


Pelicans and guano.

More exciting were the rafts of sea lions and the amazing dolphins, the latter jumping in and out of the boat's wake.

Dolphin.

The drive back to Tucson was long, Mama dog was happily nursing her puppies when we passed through. I took cuts at the border crossing and felt guilty afterwards. We got home and rushed off to karoake to hang with Patrick, Brady, and Panchesco. It's early morning now and Jimbo is safely deposited at the aeropuerto. It was a nice adventure. Next month, San Francisco!

I'm real tired of people who just don't get it. Take the supposed ex-gay group Exodus, whose leaders keep getting caught in homo bars. They are threatening a lawsuit against blogger Justinsomnia for posting a parody of their billboard. Luckily, the ACLU is lining up to defend him and perhaps Exodus will lose a pile of money in the process in legal fees.


This is a parody, only a parody.... (thanks Ted for posting this!)

Then there's Arizona State Senate witch Karen Johnson. This dried-up bit of nastiness is always spouting anti-homosexual crap while screeching about the importance of traditional marriage. She should know all about the latter, since she's been married five times and has 11 children. Like a friend said, if she had more pricks sticking out of her as she has had sticking in her, she'd be a porcupine.


Arizona State Sen. Karen "Porcupine" Johnson.

According to the official Senate website, Johnson is "standing resolutely against the homosexual agenda." Also on that website she spouts off about how women should stay at home with their kids and not work, except somehow she had to go out and get an elected office to support her family. That's pretty much bullshit because Arizona pays our lawmakers next to nothing. She's an ugly version of Phyllis Schafley. With Karen having 25 grandchildren, what are the chances one of them is a cocksucker or dyke?

Jimbo arrived safely and today we had some adventures. One of them involved visiting the sewage treatment plant. I know, I know, what were we doing? The answer: the sanitation folks in Tucson came up with the clever idea of placing treated water into recharge ponds and creating riparian wildlife habitat, something that has largely disappeared in the Tucson area.


Sweetwater Wetlands

We saw many species of birds including coots, Inca doves, Gambel's quails, red-winger blackbirds, cinnamon teals, and various types of ducks. Also cottontail rabbits and I spotted some marsh rats.


My favorite were the turtles.

I thought they might be mud turtles, but I'm not sure.

Afterwards we came home and Jimbo took a nap with the cats, we went to dinner with Patrick and Brady, watched Lost, and I made a lemon meringue pie! A typical exciting day, I guess.

The floors are mopped, clean sheets on the bed, shower scrubbed. Jimbo is on the plane and I'm pooped from cleaning house. At least the kitchen floors actually look like wood again.

I was out digging again and a pair of Gila woodpeckers were busy courting on a dying saguaro cactus a little ways away from me. I hope they find a new home when the bulldozers come.

I tried to take a picture of orange Joey and I together, but she wasn't liking posing. So I took an orange self portrait.


Homeorange.

Someone asked me if I'm a dish queen. Well, yeah, like totally. I like all kinds of dishes, old ones, pretty ones. I also like digging up pretty, old, broken ones on my dig sites.


Thanks Jimbo!

I also like flowers, my spring flowers- tulips, daffodils, and irises are all starting to bloom.

Tulip.

And I like cooking- lately I've become a pie queen (although I really dislike making pie dough).

Onion and Asparagus Quiche.

There are a lot of other things I like (redheads, cats, art, family history, etc). What kind of queen are you?

Yesterday I spent a day volunteering at a dig my company is doing. Sometimes there isn't enough money to completely excavate a site before it is destroyed by development. At least the county and city I live in has rather strong archaeology laws, stronger than most places.

Caramia and I finished excavating a pit structure that dates to around A.D. 1000. You can see the row of posts around the inside edge of the pit, these once held up the roof.


Caramia is mapping the ramped entry into the house.

Last week I was out at the site working and excavated a dog burial. The Hohokam dogs came in small and medium sized categories- this particular dog was probably about 18 inches long from head to rump.


The presence of a bacculum, or penis bone, indicates it was a male dog.

Occasionally we find human figurines, probably used in religious rituals.

The presence of breasts indicates this was a female.

It was nice spending the day digging at this prehistoric site, normally I spend my time in the field digging historic outhouses, wells, and building foundations.

Yesterday was my half birthday. Here's a photo to show you what I looked like 40 years ago.

Buck, Grandpa, and Homer, circa 1966.

Three generations of dishes.


My great grandmother Maybelle's (1886-1951) cup.


My great great grandmother Edna's (1854-1931) serving bowl.


My great great great grandmother Frederike's (1833-1914) teacup and saucer.

My sister has my grandmother's china, I have my mother's melamine dishes.

Some suggestions for the pictures in your personal ad:

- you probably shouldn't use those photos of a well known blogger unless you are actually that well-known blogger. Since he lives in San Francisco and has a hot boyfriend, the likelihood of him posting a personal ad in Phoenix is pretty small anyways.
- if your mother is going to be in a photo with you, perhaps you should ask permission before including it in an advert that discusses, in great detail, exactly which types of bondage you are into.
- you may also want to ask permission from your prom date before using that photo, even if that means tracking her down at the 20th reunion.
- the wonderful thing about a digital camera is you can take 100s of pictures and only use the very best one.
- the horrible thing about a digital camera is you take 100s of pictures and only use the very best one.
- certain parts of the body should be photographed only by a professional like Scott or Archerr. If you have to ask which parts, you haven't been examining bigmuscle lately.

Dougie and I watched Amazing Race last night, and as usual we shouted at the telly. Some of the people on that show are pretty unbelievable. Why any woman would stay with a man that called her a bitch is something I don't quite get.

Anyhoo, I arrived just as American Idol was finishing and I agree that Chris Daughtry= Hottie. The other guy with the gray hair was kinda cute in a more cuddly way. But whatthefuck is up with that goofy 16-year-old Kevin? I had to literally cover my eyes so as to avoid looking at the poor lil carwreck of a contestant.

There was snow on the Santa Catalina mountains to the north and it was too cold for Mollie to wander the yard while I was at work.


Buckle your seatbelt Mollie!

She behaved herself admirably, although she had to go to the bathroom three times. And on the way home she smelled the car up pretty bad- who knew Milk Bones made you farty?

Eric discusses problem ear wax. Thankfully I don't have that affliction, thanks to the very careful swabbing that takes place every time I shower. I can't stand to have water in my ear canals, it just bothers me.

And so I now recall the time the Ex's French friend visited and, ohmiEifelTower, he had the most disgusting earwax. Ever. And I mean ever. Flakes, crust, darkened, perhaps oxidized, overflowing outwards like a frozen waterfall. And for some reason he thought of himself as this sexy French man, albeit one with extraordinarily poor hygiene (he was rather Pepe Le Pew as well). I tried to explain to him the American tendency toward this stuff called soap and water. His response was, "Oh Homere, my Doctore tolded me that beink too kleen, that eez irresponsible. It eez bad for the skin!" I tried real hard to convince him, "But [French friend of the Ex], your ears are over flowing with wax." "Oh Homere, the Doctore told me to never, ever remove the wax, it eez important to have it!" Not surprising, he didn't get laid while he was in Tucson.



I hope you didn't read this while eating breakfast...

Oh it's raining. It hasn't rained like this since before October. I hope it continues for a while, I'd like to skip the nasty forest fires that have been predicted.

At the movie rental place I had to endure the Loud People who loudly debated which movie to rent. Apparently various things they said were very funny because they laughed very, very loudly. I couldn't escape hearing what they were saying so I'm guessing that taking lots of drugs makes things a lot funnier. Their choice in movies sucked, by the way, but I won't make a big deal about it because I rented some sucky movies too. Why? Because the movie rental place is slowly phasing out videotapes. I'll have to get one of those fancy DVD thingys soon, but by then it'll be outdated anyways.

I decided to really clean the living room tonight. With Jimbo arriving in a couple of weeks I need to make things spiffy, so away I went.

Ohmigod, three cats and a dog and a dirt patch for a front yard equals nasty hairballs and dust everywhere. Poor Mollie decided to go outside when I took the broom and swept the picture rail. Now I'm all sneezy but one room is done, only six more to go.

In other news, I got the Williams Sonoma catalogue and there were the mixing bowls that would bring great joy and happiness when I make meringue pies. I was going to use all of my tax refunds on paying down my credit card, now I'm going to spurge and buy myself this one present.

Wednesday survey- my next party:

1). Mixed drinks or beer?
2). Mixed nuts or potato chips?
3). Disco music or jazz?
4). Finger foods or pizza?
5). Celebrities or Mexican bingo?

I guess I should be all bitter 'cause I didn't get the prize for best-dressed at the Oscar party I attended. But since the award was a Barbie doll, I'm kinda okay with the biased judging (a woman in an evening gown won).


Homer and Matt.

Honestly, the Oscar show pretty much sucks. It would help if I had actually seen a lot of the films. The speeches, endless lists of names of people I won't ever meet, are tedious (I know, big news). Philip Seymour Hoffman was repulsive. Repulsive. He gave me the creeps. Dolly Parton should have won. Those film montages. Yawn. Poor old Lauren. Etc. Etc.

People keep telling me I look years younger minus the facial hair. I dunno, I feel strange with a smooth face. Plus, the balding stuff is super obvious when I'm not distracting with the beard. We'll see, luckily it grows like crazy.

The name's Homer Del Marr.


I've heard tell that my daddy was a ranch hand up near Riverton.


No, ma'am, I'm not the marrying kind.


I wish that Byron would call....

I wonder if I am on the FBI terrorist list now? I've had another letter in a local newspaper.

I'm sitting here listening to Marc's radioblog. Except there is one song I have to skip- something from the musical Rent. For some strange reason I can't stand the music from that play. At karoake on Sunday people practically have orgasms singing Rent songs. I don't get it, but then many people would say the same thing about Moulin Rouge.

I also listen to Sam's music. At work I play it so loud I can't hear the phone ring with my headphones on.

Some little known facts:

- all archaeologists are fabulously rich and make excellent sugar daddies.
- we also have the best taste in home furnishings.
- lemon meringue pies taste better when you are serving them to furry redheads.
- Puff and Joey are not gender confused.
- I was glad that the gay guys got eliminated on The Amazing Race.
- lemon meringue pies taste better when you are serving them to furry blondes or brunettes.
- I've been wanting to scream "I told you so!!!" at most Republicans.

Patrick's pretty daisies...if I keep staring at them long enough maybe I will not think about how angry I am at the Catholic Church here in Arizona. They have decided to support the "Protect Marriage Arizona" amendment to our state constitution, claiming that "equating so-called same-sex union and marriage are profound and unsettling."


I guess it wasn't profound and unsettling when the bishop in Tucson declared bankruptcy to hide church assets because so many local priests had fucked around with children. Some how I don't see how hiding child molesters by moving them from one congregation to another strengthens families in any way. But then the whole premise of single, celibate, dress-wearin' prissy ole thangs offering marital advice has seemed like, really, really stupid. That's like having repeat child molesters counseling children about not masturbating. Hmm, did I miss something?

I wish we could give the Catholic Bishop here in Tucson some truth serum and ask that queeny gurl some interesting questions, "Ever thought about choir boys in a profound and unsettling way?"

At the dig Dan the backhoe man climbed down and picked something up- a small female ground squirrel that suddenly had lost her home.



I wish my camera had been handy. I wandered over and admired the cute little squirrel. She needed to get away from where we were at- in a few weeks the whole place is going to be bulldozed. Luckily, a few hundred feet away is being left alone so I took her in my hand and carried her to the edge of the fence. She curled up, tail tucked in around her head, and when I set her down on the ground she looked at me curiously. Someday I imagine she will tell her pups about the day the human patted her on the head and told her to run away.

Some observations.

- If I were never to hear the word "Iraq" again, oh, that would be nice.

- bittersweet chocolate is the best.

- at work today, while digging in a soon-to-be-bulldozed patch of desert, a woodpecker called out to me in between poking holes in a dying saguaro cactus.

- on the way to work I stopped and stared at a bushy-tailed coyote, who in turn stared back at me.

- I let Mollie eat the left over pasta. She likes human food much more than dog food, an opinion I would probably agree with.

Another Sunday, another lemon meringue, and karoake.

Patrick's cigar was stanky.

Patrick, Brady, and Homer.

Don and Scott are recent arrivals in Tucson. Peter showed them all around karoake.

Don, Peter, and Scott.

I looked like this for two weeks in 1995.

Peter, towards the end of the evening.

It is soooo quiet at my house. Occasionally Mollie wanders in to see if I have a treat for her, her nails click-click-clicking on the wood floors. Puff might also hop up on my desk for a visit and a petting. But otherwise it is pretty dull.

I'm tempted to go make a pie just to have something to do. The problem is I might also be tempted to eat it.

I was out digging yesterday and impressed people at how quickly and efficiently I can move dirt. It helps that the site has very fine dirt that practically falls through the screen, but I'll admit to being tired out at the end of the day. I'll be back again on Monday and Tuesday doing some specialized digging, then back to the office where I have got to learn how to do PowerPoint, since I have to give about four or five talks in the next month.

I know, I know, never a dull moment. Maybe I'll make a cake instead or organize my pantry.

A confession. I'm feeling really sad because I miss having my Mummy here to talk to and cook for and help with her crossword puzzle and make meringue pies for. As I type this a couple of lil tears are slowly sliding down my cheeks. Oh well, she'll be back this November.

The world isn't ready for Half Nekkid Thursdays at HomersWorld, so how about totally naked pets?

Mama Cat, somewhat blurry.


Puff and the $800 scratching post.


Joey pretends to be classy.


Mollie wants her tummy rubbed.

I bought a plane ticket to San Francisco. I'll be going in mid-April, staying with Moby. He's such a sweety. I haven't been to SF in probably five or six years- last time I went everyone sat around and complained about the high cost of housing. It happened to be Folsom Street Fair and I remember sitting on a newspaper box and watching people parade by. Seeing a man in his 70s walking naked down the street, not that's something you don't see much of in Tucson.

Mummy arrived safe and sound in Michigan. My house is quiet and Mollie misses her terribly. She had to sit outside while I was at work, something she had escaped doing for the last few months. Now Mollie is curled up on her doggie bed about a foot away from the little electric heater. Meanwhile Puff has decided to be a kitten again and is racing around playing with a toy. It is still a little too quiet, though.

And in other news... Just how disgusting has our country become? How about this quote in the New York Times on the methods used to ensure those detainees (four years and counting) don't starve themselves to death: "General Craddock suggested that the medical staff had indulged the hunger strikers to the point that they had been allowed to choose the color of their feeding tubes."

Feeding tube colors as an indulgence... Why don't we just have trials instead? Of course then it would come out that the majority of those men had nothing to do with anything.

Those of us old enough to remember the boogey-man of Communism might recall some of the essential characteristics drilled into our head by teachers and political leaders. Communists did many bad things including:

- locked up people without trial and limited the possibility of adequate access to lawyers
- demonized whole groups of people who dared to be different in some unapproved fashion
- stifled dissent in every possible way
- politicians only met with syncophants who applauded their every move
- supporters were rewarded with perks
- the leaders and their families grew fabulously rich
- the great leader frequently appeared in military settings, sometimes wearing uniforms, often with gee-whiz high tech equipment surrounding them
- and etc.

Sounds familiar, right?

Three more years of this shit.

Never a dull moment. Just last night I was thinking I had nothing interesting to write about and then this morning I wake up to an email threatening me with a lawsuit.

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I'm making masher taters and quiche tonight for dinner. Those are two of Mummy's favorite things. She is going back to super cold Michigan on Tuesday, the house will be empty without her.


Mummy and Homer, today.

I think Mollie will miss her too, my mother certainly knows how to spoil a dog. Mollie is about 14-years-old and she is enjoying the electric heater blowing warm air on her stomach, the milk bones, and the fancy Iams dogfood. I guess she'll be staying on inside with me after Mummy leaves (she's really Vince's dog, but I think she has adopted me).

Mummy and Mollie.

First up on my agenda next week. A date!

I'm sore in strange places - the inside of my thighs, my right foot, and so on. At last night's game party at the now-closed gay resort, I ran around and did strange things. Dougie and I decided that the resort would be the perfect setting for a slasher movie, "Gay Party Massacre." I would be found in the Curio Room, punctured by various Native American artifacts. Dougie's remains would be found after blood was noticed oozing from the piano. Another gay gamer would meet his/her doom by javelina.

Javelina from last night.

Javelina's are a type of peccary that moved into southern Arizona during the historic period, perhaps brought here by the Spaniards (they aren't found at archaeological sites prior to about 1800). They are amazingly cute, as they wander around looking for food. Unfortunately, they leave behind a foul odor (kinda like Rick Santorum, but that is way off topic). Last night I had to tell various javelina not to attack me as I looked for my car keys, which turned out to be in Dougie's pocket.

As an aside, the phrase "Conjunction, junction, what's your function?" is the hardest charades clue I've ever had to act out.

Let's make chocolate leaves. First, go out to your nearest citrus tree and pick leaves in a variety of sizes.


Wash and pat dry the leaves.

Melt in a saucepan some bittersweet to semi-sweet baking chocolate.

Stir it to prevent it from burning.

Use a spoon to coat the back side of the citrus leaves with melted chocolate.

Place the leaves on waxed paper and place in your freezer.

After the chocolate has hardened, remove the tray from the freezer and let it sit for a minute or two before carefully peeling the leaves off.

Use them to decorate a cake or large cookies.

This cake features chocolate leaves on chocolate frosting. Raspberries are a decorative accent.

You might want to try a different color frosting to make the leaves stand out more.

They said I was a saint at last night's non-profit group meeting. The problem is, I haven't figured out what I'm a saint of. I mean, is it like some hidden super power? Do I get a special day of the year and big, fat candles at the Mexican supermarkets?

Homer, Patron Saint of ______. Suggestions?

I wish I had one of those self-cleaning houses. You know the ones where you turn a knob and those little robots come out and scoot around and suck up all the cat hair and dust and spray little spritzes of good smelling stuff in the spots that are bad smelling.

I wish I had purchased those ever-lasting flowers, the ones that never stop blooming and have a real powerful smell that penetrates window glass and covers up the smell of yesterday's beans. The ones that when you cut them and put them in a vase they grow back and help prevent global warming by taking in all that carbon dioxins. Alas, when I took the coupon to the store then gave me one of those rain things and told me to come back in 2016.

I wonder why I didn't buy that bottle of Hair-Stay when the Fuller Brush man came by my house. If I had my hair would be long and luxurious and gleam so bright you could floss your splendid teeth in the reflection. I'd have sprayed some of the Hair-Stay on Puff and Joey and Mama Cat and Mollie and their hair would gleam as well. Instead we all seem to be shedding at the same time and Puff and Mollie both have annoying dandruff.

I'm certainly glad I didn't go hunting Quayles with the Vice President. Although I never cared much for Dan or Marilyn, it just seems unseemly to release them on some big ranch in south Texas and hunt them down as they frittered through the under brush. I mean, he was the first Bush's VP, after all.

What do you regret?

No cats were spanked in the making of this orange meringue pie, although Puff was getting pretty close to being Punished.

Orange Meringue.

Mummy found the recipe in an Old West cooking book and of course I had to make it for her. Afterwards we went to Mexican Safeway and blonde, beefy, furry Byron was there, sporting a new haircut. As Jimbo would say, "He's dreamy" in a blonde, beefy, furry way.

Tomorrow is my least favorite holiday, You-Are-Single-Yet-Again Day. I helped Brady select his present for Patrick. I wanted to help pick a card out, but they were all out of Bitter Friends cards. Who would have figured?

For some reason my lips are tingling in a very unpleasant way- something I ate or drank must be giving me a tiny allergic reaction. Or maybe they are just numb from lack of kissing or some similar malady.

My pansies are blooming. While the east coast is getting snowed in I'm busy watering my flowers.

Pansy.
You can only water flowers for so many hours. So this afternoon I wandered over to karoake and eventually Brady and Patrick showed up and four beers later I have a bit of a headache.


Brady.


Patrick.

As usual, I probably made a fool of myself. I met some new people, flirted with someone, sang a couple of songs poorly. At home the scarlet runner beans I cooked came out nicely, although Mummy warned me they were smelly. I sniffed them, "They don't smell bad," I said. "Just wait," was her response. Okay, I can be a bit dense sometime.

Homer's Week In Review.
- Mummy and I watched African-American Lives on PBS last night. That was an awesome program that showed how exciting historical research can be. Plus, Chris Tucker is a cutey.
- Mummy finished the vest she has been knitting for me. It is made from cotton yarn, since I have wool-eating moths at my house. I thought Sean would appreciate the complexity of the pattern.

- Feels like Spring is here already- that wasn't much of a winter this year. The tulips and irises are sprouting in my front yard.
- My camera is fixed. Now if I could figure out where I put my big memory card.

I made breakfast-for-dinner (pancakes, bananas in brown sugar, hash browns, and freshed squeezed OJ from my tree) and I ate too much and now I have a frightful stomach ache. But it was still really good, Mummy loved the bananas and I was amazed how many she piled on her pancakes. Even Mollie (the dog) liked the pancakes.

I'm going to Hades for publishing this cartoon, but BoltGirl was kind enough to make an unorthodox drawing of Zeus having sex with Leda, except in reality, Zeus screwed Leda in the guise of a swan and not the other way around.


Yes I know it is probably a big ole blasphemy. I hope followers of the ancient Greek religion don't start burning Arizona flags or attacking our consulates.

Oh, a week until Valentine's Day! Hmmm, no boyfriend. That means no big box of frou-frou chocolates, no flowers (except when I had a boyfriend I can't remember getting those). What to do? Maybe I should send out a personal ad! (Exclamation points are fun!!!)!

Your mission, should you chose to accept it, Write a personal ad for Homer and post it in my comments!

"I hate memes," I said to Brian. "I know you do," he said, "but you'll feel better if you do it!" Brian and I are particularly droopy tonight, he because of his exciting career and me because I hate being criticized. So anyhoo, here is my version of the Four Thangs Meme.

Four Jobs You Would Like to Have.

1. Ryan Reynolds' massage therapist.
2. Brett Favre's massage therapist.
3. Russell Feingold's massage therapist.
4. Eddie Cibriano's massage therapist (note to self, learn something about massage)

Four Places I'd Like to Live

1. Prague
2. Havana
3. A deserted island with Matthew Fox
4. Steuben County, New York in 1840.

Four Television shows I'd be a character in if they were real.

1. Knots Landing
2. Invasion
3. Gilligan's Island
4. Star Trek (the original series)(I won't be wearing a red shirt, thank you)

Four Movies I hated.

1. Ghosts of Mars
2. That one with Renee Zelweger and Ewan McGregor
3. Siriana
4. One of the Superman movies.

Four.... oh this one is just plain stoopid. Next.

Four bloggers I'd like to meet in person.

1. Moby
2. BrettCajun
3. RJ of WhatElse
4. AngryBlackBitch (she is righteous and fine)

There. I feel much better. Really.

I'm so over Islamic anger over cartoons. Burned out embassies. Pointless boycotts of countries that have provided millions of dollars to the Palestinians. 'Death to so-and-so." Yawn.

I'm so over the countless similar protests that happen when Islamic suicide bombers blow up innocent people or police officers or soldiers. Except there haven't been any of those protests, have there? Except for when the politician got blown up in Lebanon. The rest of the time, silence. I guess it must be alright to kill people in a futile attempt to get access to those 72 virgins.

Does it make sense- burning up embassies because of five-month-old cartoons in an obscure Danish newspaper? Does anyone respect this sort of behavior? We are taught to ignore brats, maybe it is time for us to just turn away from this sort of behavior until the perpetrators act like mature adults.

Where are the Arab moderates? This is a warning to us, to not let the religious conservatives obtain more power in our world.

Names fascinate me, perhaps because I have such an uncommon one. These are the names my great-great-grandparents gave their children:

Elijah and Edna had: Francis, John, Emma, Ebenezer, Leland, Colonel, Harrison, Ada, Perry, Charles, Althea, Baby

Isaac and Anna had: Maybelle, Myrtle, Mildred, Maude, Claude, Lillian, Robert, Arzey, Richard, Frederick, Margaret, Ina, Edith

Philipand Juliana had: Walter, Philip, George, Frederick, Elizabeth

David and DeEtte had: John, Grace, Garfield


Perry and Charles, circa 1905-1910.

Still without a camera, according to the Best Buy website it is at the repair center. Get well soon!

Yesterday I took Mummy to the gem show and she wore her shoes that don't fit well. I'm tempted to just throw them away, because she can hardly walk in them (they are too small and want to slip off her feet). I've offered to take her to the shoe store but if there is one thing in the world she hates it is clothes shopping. Sometimes I wonder what she would look like dressed up.

At the gem show she made me nervous as she stood around tables loaded with very, very, very expensive things. You see, Mummy has become a complete clutz in her old age. She drops things regularly, she doesn't pay attention. Luckily she didn't smash anything although she came close once. We escaped after she purchased an amethyst wind chime from the very, very, very cute Mexican guy.

Moms say the darndest things. Tonight at dinner Mummy told me that the new vest she is knitting me might not fit because she thinks I'm "pudgy." Sigh. Later she admits that she made the sweater one size too small. It better not shrink!

Cereal Killer.
I like Captain Crunch with Crunchberries but if I eat more than one bowl it totally shreds the roof of my mouth.

I buy a box of CCwC once a year and re-live my childhood, except the cereal boxes of today do not come with cute plastic toys like they used to.

I used to like Lucky Charms but then I found out the crunchy little LSD-like marshmallows have as an ingredient gelatin, which is unfortunately made from ground up animal bones.

Same with Frosted Mini Wheats.

Do they still make Count Chocula and Frankenberry? Yes.

When I eat Honey Smacks (which used to be called Sugar Smacks, just like KFC used to be Kentucky Fried Chicken), my urine smells just like the cereal afterwards.

Mostly I eat store brand Rice Chex or Corn Chex, sometimes with a little maple syrup or prickly pear syrup poured on top. Joey, my orange cat, would like to lick the little bit of milk left in the bowl, but she is lactose intolerant and immediately vomits if she does so. So I don't allow that.

In conclusion, a day without a bowl of cereal is a day without...ohmigod, am I still writing about cereal?