So, when the furnace guy is doing duct work on your home, and is having a hard time doing whatever it is he's supposed to be doing, and he starts swearing a blue streak... right into the duct... which makes that swearing blast out from every vent in the house... do you think he knows that?
The swearing makes me laugh... the odd grunting thing though... that kind of scares me. It's really freaking out the dogs.
Grizzled is due home early today due to the dreaded NATO-Y2K effect. I'm hoping Mr. Furnace Guy is still here... doing what he's been doing for most of the afternoon.
It's another busy week and I'm not in the mood for blogging (it seems so 1992), but this draft was burning a hole in my post cache:
The other night, in my evening painting class, I had a moment of my real life meeting up with my internet life, which in many areas, has also become my real life...
A semi-retired gentleman who is taking my class mentioned that he had attended a boring lecture the other day. I happened to know that a certain blogger was in the area giving a talk, although I doubted it was boring... still, I had to ask.
Me: "So, was it about blah, blah, blah??"
Him: "No... it was about feral cat colonies, but I did have a colleague who attended the talk you mentioned. How did you know about it??"
Me: "A friend of mine was giving one of the talks."
Him: "Really?? Does he know so and so??"
Me: "I'm not sure, I'll text him."
Me: "Yes, he does. He had dinner with him."
Him: "Wow! Now how do you know this person again?"
Me: "He's a friend."
Him: "I know... you said that, but how do you know him? Where did you meet?"
This is the point I dread in almost any conversation I have where I KNOW someone in REAL LIFE, but then have to explain that I met them online... and somehow, it takes a turn for creepy.
I told the gentleman in my class that this person and I belonged to the same creative blogging group... a group that was set up so people could share writing, art, thoughts, etc, in an area outside of work. I didn't tell him that meeting most of these people was totally random. I made it sound like there was some rhyme or reason to it...
It seemed to appease him. Or he sensed that maybe it was better not to ask anymore. Sensing he sensed this, I told him that my ENTIRE family(including dogs) had socialized with this person and some of his kids. That seemed to make it better.
I then thought of times when I've had to explain something else that's been going on in my life... a project I've been working on with someone... someone I never thought I'd have any interaction with, but am so thankful I do. The few times it has come up in conversation, and this person's name comes up, I get the inevitable question... "How did you meet this person?? What brought you together??"
I then get to decide of I tell the truth, that I met this person as a cupcake, or do I tell them, we met through friends... :) Personally, I like the first answer.
Unfortunately this is the only photo I have of the much-wanted pants, and it doesn't actually show the bells... which really weren't even bells, but rather flares, but I think they flared enough that my mother was convinced I was one step away from burning my future bra and only showering in cow pastures while tripping on LSD.
The year? 1969, baby!!! Yes, here I am, sporting my first pair of "flare bottoms" and the gawd-forsaken pixie my mother made me wear for at least 5 years of my life. My hair was too thick and I was not good at tangle maintenance. I hated that haircut... especially the faux sideburns, cut out around the ear.
The locale of my "flare bottom" debut? Quito, Ecuador. Look at my paleness... most locals thought I was sick and dying. :) Fortunately I did not celebrate my death day while there, but rather celebrated my b-day. Numero 7.
And what are we eating?? Yummy, funky guaba fruit (not the speedra!!!)! I've never had it since, but will never forget it.