phone conversation on bus

I ride the bus transit into town to work (thank God for not having to drive). Anyway, the guy sitting behind me was chatting loud enough for entire bus to hear and his side of the phone converstions went like this:

Call #1 (to friend or associate)
"It was a f'ing mess, I'm f'ing trying to get this f'ing deal done but there isn't one g.d. f'ing truck in the whole g.d. f'ing state of California to hual this g.d. s. out of there and my f'ing boss wont' get off his f'ing ass and okay the f'ing deal." (repeat similar f'ing lines for about ten f'ing minutes)

Call #2 (from boss)
"yes sir, I understand sir. I didn't know our cost and just wanted to close the deal. Well, it's after six o'clock here and he was in Dallas and was about to leave the office so I'll call him first thing tomorrow to see if he still wants us to arrange to have it hauled"

Call #3 (back to friend"
"Yeah, that was my gd boss. He hasn't a f'ing clue, I can't get one g.d. truck in whole gd f'ing state of California..."

Call #4 (from wife)
"Hey sweetie. Yeah, I'm on the bus and will be home in twenty minutes. Listen at choir practice tonight keep your ears open for any jobs or anything"

I bet the choir sounded like some f'ing angels. : )

apple sauce

I don't recall how she and I hit upon it. Substituting the phrase "apple sauce" for the word "whatever". It somehow became an inside joke. And I am not sure why that was the phrase that hit me when I began to type tonight. Maybe because I have too much to do before this month fades away, maybe because while I was waiting for my ancient computer to allow me into blog I glanced at the bulletin board in my office/spare room and saw the Christmas pictures I had made of my sisters nearly 25 years ago. P at 18 and R 14. Healthy with a whole life ahead of them. Saw them both over the weekend at the folks. P is confined to her wheelchair now. ALS, there with S and their two kids. R & D with the youngest three of their four. The fourth somehow already having completed his second (and probably last) year of college. I never understood my father's strong desire to turn the clock back, but then again I was young(er) then and he was about the age I am now.

There is no joy in my writings any more. No wit, no flow. L stole part of that, or mortally wounded it and I let it die by neglect. I feel there is nothing to share, and with whom and why? To much to do and what does any of it matter? My sister, dieing, and me with no real responsibilities beyond feeding two stray pets.

Apple sauce

it was a beautiful day

There is a picture of me at about age four or five. You can't really see that is is me, as the shot was taken from the edge of our front yard but the blur with his nose pressed to the window of the living room is me. What you can see is the largest snow fall I have ever witnessed in my home state. And there I am trapped inside by a cold and a Mother who feared colds turning into things much worse. So my Dad and some cousins are frolicking outside while I am inside. I don't recall that day but it is similar to today. Except rather than snow it is glorious sunshine begging me to come out with my bike and hit the trail. And instead I am sitting inside, finishing up favors for others and nursing a cough/fever. My computer is ancient, the printer one frustration after another and in between hacks I can see the blue sky beckoning. Maybe tomorrow.

where was I?

Third attempt at blogging and so frustrated with this whole thing I'm about ready to stop again. Have no idea where in hyperspace the second version ended and the first, well that was a long time ago. So, stay tuned and see what develops.