Now that the feral cat has been gone for so long, and now that there is never a food bowl outside, the neighborhood cats don't bother coming around, even the neighbor's. And now that the cats are gone, the squirrels are plentiful. And they are fat little fuckers at the moment. They run around my deck with impunity.
Just an observation.
Yesterday was uneventful. . . unlike most of my days which are scintillating and full of romance and adventure. The highlight was taking my mother to Costco. Not a highlight. At one o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, the aisles were jammed. To make it good fun, my mother pushed the big, chin-high cart they provide. It serves her as a walker. The aisle traffic was so heavy, though, I had to walk behind her single file. She was slow. Very, very slow, and every time she turned her head, she turned the giant cart, too, so that she was blocking half the aisle. Most people seemed to be in a BIG hurry and were frustrated as they pushed past like Indy 500 drivers. They were, by and large, an overweight, ill-dressed, and generally ugly lot. My mother and I fit right in. There was no standing out from the crowd. But it makes one wonder, doesn't it, if anybody works anymore. These overweight, harried fuckers weren't missing any meals, but where was the money coming from?
Maybe they were all Uber drivers or just did some other kind of gig work. I can really only guess, but the highway was as crowded as the aisles of the store.
We meandered, mom and I, in no particular hurry. Have you had the Costco wine? It isn't bad, I think, and I bought some bottles. Big bags of Kirkland coffee. WTF? I'm a retiree going broke far too quickly. Of course, I got sucked into buying other items, too. It is an inevitability on which stores like this thrive. But, you know. . . coffee and wine are staples.
My mother wanted a watermelon and asked me to pick one out. I thumped a big one on top like I knew what I was doing and said, "this one sounds good." It was heavy, and when we got it back to her house, I weighed it. 22 pounds! My mother could never have gotten this on her own.
"What do you want me to do with the 'melon?"
She got a wetted paper towel and started cleaning it.
"Do you want me to cut it?"
I halved it. Oh, man, did it look good. I cut a little sliver and tasted it.
"This is one of the best watermelons I've ever had," I said as I took my mother a slice. It was juicy and sweet and just ripe.
I quartered it, then cut it into eighths. My mother pulled the Saran Wrap and I rolled the pieces into it.
"I'll take one of these down to Marlene later," she said.
But there was still a whole lotta watermelon for mom. I took a quarter piece home with me.
Q had sent me a Soundcloud track of music he had made in NYC recently.
"I'll make a YouTube video and use it on my blog tomorrow," I wrote, "and then you can sue me,"
"We'll both be rich," he said. "I'll split the money with you."
When I got back from my mother's, I set about the task, but only then did I realize that what he had sent me was an hour and forty some minutes long. I ripped off the first four minutes and put it into Adobe Audition to convert, then, being lazy and not wanting to use Premiere, I loaded it into iMovie and made some silly graphics. But I used his promo splash page for the rest. I've just uploaded it only to find that the filthy fucker has copyrighted the music. WTF kind of capitalist money hungry greed head is he, anyway. Now I'm sure he will sue me out of spite.
Still. . . music wants to be free, so. . . grab a cocktail and your wanger, eat some MDA and drop into a barcalounger with your headphones and eye masks on, and . . . .
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