thefyd

Good-bye To All That

Mon, 18 Sep 06 14:21:00 UT

That's it, I am finished with this site. Done. Will post no more. But! I will post elsewhere. Specifically at this, my new website. Hopefully journalscape will not delete these last three years of posting, as it's useful as an archive. I suppose I could still post once a month with a reminder of the new website. We shall see.

A Love Story

Mon, 11 Sep 06 23:08:00 UT

If there can be any static confirmation of my devotion to Mrs The Fyd, let it be recorded by the configuration of every picture and mirror in our home to the comfort of those who are five feet tall rather than six feet.

Except for a few maps here and there.

Another Day

Thu, 7 Sep 06 10:01:00 UT

Perhaps the subject of this journal should narrow to the interactions between Boris and the possums? The frequency is increasing to the point where one could imagine it being quotidian. Last night's possum was released by Boris on my command, and outside this time, which was a pleasant change. Not before I heard some crunchy sounds. So off with the pooper scooper and back over the fence it went, since it was still breathing. Maybe the lot next door needs a good brushfire.

Also last night I was reading a book of short stories by Sherman Alexie. In one he has a character muse on a counter-terrorism tactic of offering suicide bombers seventy-three virgins now if they'll eschew the martryrdom they thing will bring them their seventy-two virgins in paradise. That led to wondering about the logistics, the finding and confirming of large numbers of virgins, wondering about other requirements (they'll need to be beaucoup patriotic) and do they need to be doe-eyed and melon-breasted?

Crazy Folks

Wed, 30 Aug 06 12:27:00 UT

We are going to adopt one of the kittens we have been fostering for the humane society. This means we will have five cats. We also intend to get a male orange cat, in memory of the late, lamented Hamlet. So we will be the people with six cats and two dogs.

The new kitten is, in our defense, as cute as all fuck. We let him out to see how he reacted to our current cats. Upon meeting Molasses he immediately disarmed him by giving him an affectionate head-butt. Mo followed him around in surprise, occasionally reaching out with a paw as if to say, "Hey, come back here so's I can kick your ass." Anyway, he'll need to get used to the dogs and we need to come up with a better name than his shelter name ("Teddy") and then he'll fit right in.

Well, I'm Home

Tue, 29 Aug 06 16:38:00 UT

Back from California yesterday; my ears are still plugged up but otherwise Southwest Airlines treated us well. Aside from from the inconsiderate father and grown son in my row on the flight home, but I'm going to hunt them down and garotte them later. No undue delays in airports, indeed we were never more than a few minutes at any security checkpoint.

Sacramento was bloody hot, as expected, though apparently it was just as hot here. West Nile virus scares in Sacto required a chemical envelope application before I could go out on the balcony and smoke. San Francisco was far more pleasant; warm sunny day at the ball park (each year I go see the Giants play their park has a new name: first PacBell, then SBC, now AT&T park. What will it be next year?) and the proper team won. Then dinner in Chinatown at a restaurant where most of the dishes seemed made of duck tongues, then a visit to City Lights. I had forgotten the title of Oriana Fallacci's last book, so didn't ask for it to see if I would get told off for asking for a book by a fascist. I did get a few books on my father's dime, so I got that working for me. Sacramento has some very good restaurants and naturally my father has scouted them all out. Monday lunch before we left was at a houseboat restaurant called "The Virgin Sturgeon"; not actually particularly good food but you cannot resist it.

We boarded the dogs at a pet hotel near the airport. Basically a bunch of kennels inside a former warehouse, with all the dogs allowed to mingle and play for most of the day. They barely seemed to have missed us, the bastiges. Boris was apparently allowed to bark for three days straight without someone yelling at him to shut up, as would happen at home. He is hoarse and his barks are mere pathetic wheezes. Both dogs are exhausted and have slept almost every minute since we got them home yesterday evening through this very moment; hopefully this will continue for awhile. Vinnie just raised his head to look at me and immediately began to fall back asleep, head nodding and eyes fluttering closed.

Wildlife Farce

Wed, 23 Aug 06 00:20:00 UT

Here I relate something I'm not proud of. Tonight Boris caught another possum. He's killed two already and I figured he'd bagged a third when he ran up the back stairs with the thing. I managed to push him and Vinnie inside and then readied my arsenal of a broom and trash bag to dispose of the corpse. Only this time it blinked as I was pushing it back outside. So I nudged it out over the back steps to let it get over playing dead and get the hell away. I sprayed Windex everywhere by the back door and in the kitchen, put the dogs to bed, related the creepy story to Mrs The Fyd, then looked out the back door. The possum was clearly injured and was trying its best to struggle down the stairs. I know of no midnight possum rescue group so I got the pooper scooper and rake out, maneuvered the poor frightened and injured thing, and, with only dropping it once along the way, let it slide out over the backyard fence into the vacant lot next door. At least there the dogs won't pounce on it in the morning, and if it's going to die or live it will have some chance to meet its fate unmolested by our house animals.

I'm not happy about all this, but undoubtedly the possum is far unhappier.

I wonder if it's time to employ professionals to clear our yard of possum nests. I figure, however, that they actually live next door because our yard doesn't seem to have the kind of cover they would need to survive.

By any other name

Mon, 21 Aug 06 12:21:00 UT

We have a temp working in the office today; her first name is Chardonnay. This might be appalling, but at least her parents' favorite wine wasn't Gewurtztraminer. Come to think of it, a good first name for a boy might be Whiskey. Better than Bud.

Invalid

Sun, 20 Aug 06 17:05:00 UT

I am icing my right knee as I type. Yesterday evening we went to a barbecue at some friends' house. I was going up the back steps as someone was coming down. Since their hands were full of paper plate I stepped to the side politely. Unfortunately there was no side to stand on, only about three feet of empty air. With my right foot still on the landing I attempted to push off as if casually jumping off to the side, instead of awkwardly toppling off. I almost managed it, but my right knee whacked the concrete on the way down. I remained upright and didn't squeal in pain, but despite having had less than one beer at that point I'm sure the other guests who watched my performance assumed it was just another drunk falling over.

Today we took the dogs for a hike through Tryon Creek State Park. That was almost two hours on the trails. The dogs especially enjoyed paddling in a couple of creeks. It not being spawning season there were fortunately no salmon carcasses to tempt and poison them. The dogs are now snoozing away, and my knee is stiff and sore. We had the option of going to see a movie in an air-conditioned theater, it being over ninety today, but I suppose my knee would have locked up entirely in the cold. And the dogs would not be tired out and probably would be whiny and cranky.

Choice made

Sat, 19 Aug 06 15:29:00 UT

Both Mrs The Fyd and I have had dreams involving going on a trip and somehow losing Vinnie in the process. Apparently both our subconsciousness have decided for us which is our favorite dog. Sorry, Boris.

Wages of leisure

Wed, 9 Aug 06 14:13:00 UT

I am off work today through the end of the week. I just checked my email to discover that I have sold a short story. This will be my tenth published story. That is a milestone of sorts, if arbitrary. All those who sold their first ten stories in three weeks, keep it to yourselves.

Payback

Sun, 30 Jul 06 12:24:00 UT

That's what I get for making fun of the French. Last night Boris killed another possum. This was a much quieter affair than his hysterics when confronted with the first. Apparently he's getting better at this killing thing. Additionally, when I went outside to find out why he wasn't coming in, he abandoned the carcass immediately and went inside. I assume that's some kind of acknowledgement that the Dominant One has come to claim the prize. Or just random weird Boris behavior.

He managed to gnaw on this one a little, but my initial impression in the dark that he'd torn it in half was just an illusion. It's probably more a toy than a snack to him. Just a bit earlier I had seen him cavorting about, snapping at the air, and I assumed he was chasing a bug. Now I think he was probably tossing the possum around and it was too dark for me to see. After I put the body in a garbage bag and put it by the side of the house for the county vermin control folks to pick up, I let the dogs back outside. They spent many minutes sniffing furiously around the scene of the crime. I believe Vinnie was quite impressed with Boris.

Specialization

Sat, 29 Jul 06 13:09:00 UT

French laboratories are apparently better at finding proof of doping in American cyclists than they are at finding traces of nerve gas in Iraqi warheads.

Gagging

Fri, 21 Jul 06 09:55:00 UT

I just got off an elevator ride with a foul-smelling bike messenger. It's supposed to get to 103 today, and it's already very warm, but this wasn't the normal odor of exertion. This was a stench, a deeply seated anti-social miasma.

I've had several friends who were or are bike messengers, and none of them ever stank like this guy. I can still smell him; I think some of the stink vapors are yet clinging to me. Oh dear bog, I hope they didn't infect my mocha. Iced mocha.

Chagrin and Bear It

Wed, 19 Jul 06 11:02:00 UT

Well, apparently I can't set up an image on a website so's that it will remain viewable for more than a day. I am suitably chagrined.

Another reason possible reason for chagrin, if not outright shame, is the fact that one of my favorite songs is The Dwarves' "New Orleans". Avert your eyes if easily offended:

"He was a butt boy from New Orleans
They paid him high to keep his motor clean
C'mon for a ride, come on outside
Come on I don't want to set the night alright
Yeah, butt boy from New Orleans
Went down down for the marines
Come out for a bite
Come out for a ride
Man had a limosine on every night"

All right, that's vile. But it's a good song. And now, the ipod has selected as the next random song Tracy Chapman's "Give Me One Reason", which is also a really good song, and not vile at all.

Johnny Cactus Seed

Sun, 9 Jul 06 16:30:00 UT

A few weeks ago we went to the Portland Nursery to buy a few lilacs, a few New Zealand ferns, a coupla Japanese maples, with which to prettify the front and back yard. While there I picked up a wee cactus. Normally said cactus, under my care, would have died by now. However, this one seems to be thriving. It has put out three blossoms; photographic proof below showing the most prominent flower:

The Japanese maples are a little under the weather, seeing as how I put them in urns on our front steps and they get the withering summer sun all afternoon and evening. I've moved them up onto the porch for the nonce, and they are recovering.