timotribute

timotribute
Originally uploaded by polarboy.

poured down

Yesterday God gathered all his available west coast angels and told them it was time to hit the aisles of Home Depot. It was time to buy some buckets. New buckets were needed as all the others were old and worn out or just left lacksidaisically in South East Asia, last monsoon season. So the buckets were readied and only some of the angels got lost in other aisles thinking of Cloud Improvement and Do It Yourself, and only two or five were pulled in by the powertools. The rest stayed focused. Then the water was scooped and the pouring began.

The last time I was in rain was last March in Maui when my sister and Albert got married. I marvelled at their smarts for choosing an island wedding. The angels there, the ones that got the lucky post of Hawaii, had bought their buckets and had scooped their water.

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I woke up at 2:30 am to a demanding, pleading, persistent, aching cry. Some cat somewhere in my neighbor was locked out of its house, stranded in the downpour. "Go under the porch," I tried to ESP to the crying cat. "Get under an eave. Please be creative." But, driven by the angels and the buckets, this cat was determined. This cat had a purpose. That purpose was to wake up its fucking owners even if that meant waking up the whole neighborhood in the meantime. His meow spanned an octive -- low baritone callings to high-pitched exclamation-pointed pleas. This cat was a master of endurance and tenacity. And at 3:30 his arias were seemingly only just beginning.

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Last night was a little Octoberfest party complete with drunken, singing Germans. Dan and Jill and Jenn and Kerry and I sequestered ourselves for fun little talks and catching up. I got there late but there was still delicious food and rambles on books, plans, people, and house affairs. Meanwhile, the rain still came down.

This might not bode well for the Halloween party (theme: carn-evil). Mid October rains often mean wet Halloween. Much to KB's chagrin I'm doing my normal one-two dance number of "I'm not going this year" to "maybe I'll go" back to "I'm not going this year." I said so again last night and she just sat there with a funny smile on her face and didn't say anything. "You and Bret can still go," I said (I'm the one with the invite). She smiled, "Well, we'll just wait because I know you will change your mind eight or nine more times before then."

I do this every year.

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Shoot. I had a lot more to talk about. Yesterday a million thoughts and a million tangents and all kinds of everything were just brimming to the top. I should have blogged yesterday. :) More later perhaps.