The Almost Painless Building Of A Pergola

My oldest sister recently revealed that her whole life she has always wanted to have a pergola in her backyard.

I know what you're thinking: "What the H.E. double toothpicks is a pergola?"

It's one of those patio looking dealios - not quite a gazebo, but not actually a patio either.

Anywhatzit, MJM and I got to work on putting together a pergola in her backyard - we didn't actually have to build it though, as she bought an already built pergola from someone who no longer wanted it, so all MJM and I had to do was disassemble the thing, drive the rather larger pieces across town, and reassemble it in my sister's backyard.

Easy peazy several-splinters-in-your-hands & a-near-concussion-from-one-of-those-large-spans-bonking-you-on-the-forehead lemon squeezy

Happy Birthday sis.

Hot Potatoes & Hand Gernades

Nothing beats having a problem that needs an immediate solution but which is none of your doing, and which is not even remotely your responsibility, dropped in your lap first thing Monday morning.

Nothing. 

A Most Difficult Decision...Or A Desparate Gamble

The Memorial

The Sweetest Of Sorrows

She screamed at the top of her lungs

That I would regret the day we parted

She screamed that she would haunt my dreams

And that I would spend my life broken-hearted

I smiled as I waved goodbye 

For though she thought she had me tied to a whipping post

In truth my dreams had always been haunted

                        By 
                           a 
                             much 
                                      more 
                                              beguiling  
                                                            ghost

On The Plains

The Meek Are Still Patiently Waiting On Their Inheritence

                       Ninja Larry Saves The World From Yet Another Baby-Stealing Bunny

Gunter Gleiben Glauchen Globen

Went to the Pretenders/Journey/Def Leppard show at Coors Field last night with BWB & MJM, primarily because BWB had always wanted to see Def Leppard, MJM wanted to see Journey, and I, well, I just like going to shows.

Each of those bands have been to the top of the Rock 'N' Roll mountain, and each of those bands put forth evidence on Saturday night that they still have what it takes to bring a crowd to it's feet.

Santanas Bar, For Fine Dining, Cocktails, Dancing, & Kareoke

Lessor Known Curses

    A few choice curses that have occurred to me:

May you outgrow all of your favorite shirts.

May your entire internet search history be included in the next Wikileaks release.

May your neighbor's incessantly barking dog lose it's voice the minute the Animal Control officer finally shows up.

May the Referee always turn towards the foul play only when you are striking back.

May the smallest husk from the last piece of popcorn you ate be forever stuck in the furthest reaches of the back of your mouth.

May you experience the soul-crushing anguish of a thousand unpublished writers.

May you always be referred to as "capable of doing better".

May every haircut you ever receive be progressively worse than the previous one.

May your favorite pair of shoes make fart sounds as you walk with your dream crush on your first date.

May you spend your life getting the joke fifteen minutes after everyone else.

The Man With Eighteen Names

He was as innocuous appearing as a man could possibly be. Not only was he never given a second glance by anyone who saw him (which was exactly how he preferred it), but even people who had to interact with him such as salesclerks or waiters, would have a difficult time recalling his appearance even ten short minutes after interacting with him.

His goal had always been to appear as harmless and inoffensive as a man could, and to that end he dressed in the least distinguishable manner possible, had any and all prominent physical features he was born with (moles, the natural bright blonde color of his hair, his striking light blue eyes, the square shape of his jaw) either removed or modified with dyes, prosthetics, or plastic surgery, and spent years learning to carry himself in the least remarkable manner possible.

Over the course of a thirty-seven year career as an Intelligence operative he had participated in nearly every form of espionage imaginable, and had worked with and/or against agents from more countries than he could remember, friend & foe alike, and yet there were only six people in the entire world who knew his real name.

Of those six people he was related to three. The other three were his handler at the agency, that man's immediate supervisor, and of course the Chief.

To the hundreds of people he had met over the past three plus decades, he was known by at least seventeen different identities, all of which were substantiated by verifiable credit, work, education, and even family histories - each of which were manufactured to conform to the specific dominant cultural and religious idioms of the various areas of the world in which he operated.

He was not considered a master of disguise however. He was considered something much more considerable than that. He was considered invisible.

And he thought he was invisible, at least until this afternoon, when the young woman in the bright yellow dress walked straight up to him and held out a large envelope in her right hand and said, "Mr. Raymond Cooper, please take this to your employer - the fate of the world is at stake."

He briefly stared after her as she turned abruptly and faded into the crowd. His face did not betray the shock he felt as he quickly turned his attention to the envelope he had taken possession of. 

No one looking at him would ever guess that he was currently wondering if he should be chasing after the girl or if he should be downing the little cyanide pill that was concealed in the third button from the bottom of his shirt.

Pursue The Opportunities That Drop In Your Lap

The rain had slowed from torrent to trickle, and TC and I were relaxing on the small front porch, each of us enjoying one of the genuine Cuban cigars FS's sister had brought back from Cuba. 

TC tilted his head toward me and said, "Have you ever thought about being in a situation like the one Scott Halpin found himself in when he went to see the Who in November of 1973?"

I took a long drag on my Cohiba Esplendido and thought for a few minutes. 

"Yeah, I have." I replied while exhaling. "Ever since I first read about his sitting in for Moon, I have wondered what I would have done if I was ever faced with the same situation."

"And?" TC responded. "What would you have done?"

"Probably would have froze up. Can't imagine how Halpin was able to pull it off."

Your Mind, Your Thoughts, Your Actions, Your Reactions

What a waste of energy & effort it is to try to control things which you have absolutely no chance of controlling - and how glorious a feeling it is when you finally decide to take control over what you absolutely do have power over.

It's Gonna Be A Dark & Stormy One Tonight

Almost Been

At the age of eleven he started telling everyone around him - his friends, his mom & dad, his sister, his friend's parents and siblings, even his teachers, that he was going to be an actor when he grew up, and not just an actor, a star.

A big star, just like the ones he watched on the small television in the basement that he could commandeer for his own enjoyment every Saturday night when his parents and older sister would finally leave him alone.

He dreamed of it, of being in front of the camera, reciting the dramatic, or comedic, or cryptic, or even zany, dialogue of the talented scriptwriters who had written the same for his idols, the studio players whose performances in black & white two-reelers transported him to the old west or the far-flung future.

To this end he would watch the same films over and over again, committing to memory the lines of his favorite characters, whether they were words uttered by leading men or single-line character actors who were little more than filler.

Two days after he graduated from high school he packed up two suitcases of clothes and got a ride down to the bus station from his friend Greg. He bought a one-way ticket to L.A. and though his eyes watered up a little as the bus pulled away from the small station, he never looked back.

Two days later he was in Hollywood. He checked into the cheapest motel he could find and spent the day scouring the Roommates Wanted section of the classified ads until he found a couple that he thought sounded reasonable.

He called the number of the one he was most interested in from the pay phone in the motel lobby, and on the second ring the call was answered.

In short order they agreed to meet, and after a meeting that lasted less than ten minutes an agreement was made allowing him to rent a room in a home that granted him full kitchen and pool privileges, as well as the right to use the home phone as a contact number.

That was almost forty years ago. He now worked as a bartender in a slightly better than divey establishment in Costa Mesa, and was a member of the local community theater.

The first few years in L.A. had been harsh, he told me, as he was nowhere near as prepared as he thought he was. 

He said he went to every open casting call for every single role he thought he was qualified for, and he even took acting classes and joined a local acting troupe.

He landed gigs as background filler in a couple of commercials, and even had a line in a sitcom pilot that was never picked up, but it seemed that, despite mailing his headshot to every agency and studio he could find an address for, the destiny he was certain had awaited him in L.A. was just not to be.

I nodded my head in agreement to nearly everything he said as he talked my ear off, and when he went silent after his last statement, I muttered under my breath...

..."such is the fickle finger of fate, my friend, such is how it goes."

That Crazy Film Noir Dream

An ordinary man wrongly accused, of course, and on the run. Criminals harder than granite on one side, Police harder than marble on another, and an alcoholic private eye of debatable integrity on a third side.

Cue up a jazzy, seductive little number as a wild-eyed brunette or a brassy blonde, both of which would be curvier (and more dangerous) than the road through the Stelvio Pass, enters the scene.

There may or may not be an inheritance involved and if so, there may or may not be a sudden appearance of long-lost relatives of the dear departed.

As usual, there will be a recently married young woman who becomes suspicious of her new husband and insanely jealous of his new secretary.

Toss in a couple of blackmailers, a few corrupt city officials, maybe three ex-cons, an amnesiac with a faint recollection of a house full of bodies, countless dirty politicians, an Army veteran caught up in a plot hatched by men from his former unit, a forger, a grifter looking for one last big payday, a seemingly naive young woman being led astray, a couple of saboteurs conspiring to steal a secret weapon, an insurance company investigator seeking a seductive widow's stolen diamond necklace, a pretty femme fatale's even prettier younger sister, the stock mentally unbalanced young man with the nervous disposition, and without need for introduction, the worldly taxi driver & the equally worldly prostitute, both with hearts of gold.

All drawn together by a tersely worded classified ad in the local paper asking for help locating a lost puppy.

Renn Faire Don't Care