I decided quite some time ago I would avoid memes, the little tagging game in the blogosphere whereby someone posts something (e.g., five favorite quotes from film, books, or music; three things you didn’t know about me; etc.) and names several other blogs that have to post the same information and tag several other blogs and so on.  When I first began blogging I thought such things were expected, but now I’m over that impression (whether it’s true or not, I don’t care).  If the meme has some value (engaging, fun, entertaining, enlightening, etc.), perhaps, but even then I would only do it because I wanted to, and I absolutely wouldn’t inflict it on other bloggers like some obligation.

When it comes to this meme…  I saw it on several other blogs and thought it looked fun.  For obvious reasons, it’s called the “ABC meme” or something equally noxious.  I don’t know who to credit (or curse) since I can’t determine where it started.  Oh well.

Accent: Yes, I have a Southern accent when I let it show through.  Mostly, I strive for accentless pronunciation, but I think my friends will tell you I do not always succeed in that endeavor.  I’m kinda embarrassed to tell y’all I can twang with the worst of ’em.

Booze: Negra Modelo if I’m drinking beer; Crown Royal whisky if I’m drinking liquor; tequila if I want to get uncontrollably stupid (I have a major weakness for tequila and generally avoid it for that reason); Vueve Clicquot Ponsardin if I’m drinking champagne (Yellow Label or La Grande Dame); wine and general beer choices depend on what else is happening (if I’m eating Chinese food, I want Tsingtao beer; with sushi, I want Sapporo beer and/or saki [rice wine]; I prefer a merlot if snacking on fruit and cheese; my Italian dinners always demand [Birra] Moretti beer or an appropriate wine; the list goes on).  Yes, I’m an alcohol snob.  It’s called culture.

Chore I Hate: Um, all of them.  If I had to choose just one, however, it would be laundry.  It. Never. Ends.  The only way to get it all done is to spend laundry day naked (me, the bed, the bathroom, the kitchen, etc.), but that means it stays ‘all done’ only for that day.  I have to put clothes on at some point, use a towel after my shower, sleep between sheets, and so on.  All of that means we start the process all over again.  When will on-demand disposable/recyclable cloth finally be a reality?

Dog or Cat: Cats.  Four of them: Grendel, Loki, Kako, and Kazon.  I’m also trying to capture (with the possibility of adopting) Chira, a stray cat.  I also like dogs (why else would I always dog-sit Wylie?).  I just don’t have any right now and am happy with that during this phase of my life.

Essential Electronics: Laptop.  It enables my writing no matter where I am.  I’d also say my cell phone if I didn’t hate it so much (it is a ball and chain), although I love having it with me at all times as I can hit the web, check e-mail, and perform other seemingly necessary functions from almost anywhere.  That’s a love-hate relationship.

Favorite Cologne: I generally do not wear cologne, although I was a cologne fanatic when I was younger (as all good fags are, me thinks).  My favorite is still Hilfiger Athletics followed by Claiborne Sport.  When it comes to what other people wear, however, I have no favorites since the smell of cologne depends greatly on the individual wearer’s personal aroma.  Even the best scents can be turned into foul olfactory assaults.

Gold or Silver: Silver.  Gold is so 70s.

Hometown: Born in Oklahoma City, OK, but we weren’t there long enough for me to call it my hometown.  Dallas, TX would probably be the best answer as that was our most common base of operations when I was growing up, and I’ve lived here since.

Insomnia: Rarely.  There are times when I have too much on my mind and/or am too stressed and sleep is elusive.

Job Title: Currently, I’d say unemployed aspiring writer.  When necessary, IT guru.

Kids: The Kids count as four.  My godson, Dalton, counts as another one.  I also have a son who I have not seen in a great many years.  Yes, there’s a drama-engorged story attached to that, so let’s save it for another time.  Wylie counts as yet another.  Otherwise, I generally adopt all the children of my friends and family, so this list gets very long in a short time.

Living arrangements: I live with my four cats in a comfortable apartment on White Rock Lake in Dallas, TX.  I also have several contingency homes if needed, each with their own populations to consider.

Most admirable traits: Caring, self-confident, self-determined, intelligent, witty, willingness to sacrifice for others, open-minded.

Number of sexual partners: Historically, a lot.  Presently, more than one and less than five.

Overnight hospital stays: Several times for various reasons (knee surgery, back surgery, etc.).

Phobias: None if we agree that phobias are irrational fears.  All of mine are rational: nuclear war, terrorism, someone breaking into my house and letting The Kids get outside or worse yet, hurting them, and so on.  I don’t have any true phobias.

Quote: “Never let your sense of morals get in the way of doing what’s right.” (Isaac Asimov)

Religion: I grew up Christian, tried out a lot of other religions and philosophies, and ended up an atheist.

Siblings: Two brothers and one sister (all older), and one half-brother (younger).  Lots of adopted family.

Time I wake up: 4:30 AM on days I go to the gym; otherwise, no later than 6 AM.

Unusual talent or skill: I probably shouldn’t answer that with the first thing that comes to mind.  I suppose I have two that are equally important: the ability to absorb and process vast amounts of information, and the ability to understand people.

Vegetable I love: My favorite is Brussels sprouts; my second favorite is fresh asparagus; my third is potatoes, but I avoid them as they’re not the best source of nutrition.  It’s easier to say I’ve only run into a few vegetables I don’t like: sweet potatoes, yams, and eggplant.  Aside from those, I really like vegetables.

Worst habit: Always demonstrating I’ve assumed I’m right (even though I always am, it’s not really nice to prove it time and again).  Others might say demonstrating conceit… (Paging Dr. House).

X-rays: Of my teeth, back, knee, head, abdomen, sinuses, and various other body parts.  I assume all of me has been x-rayed at some point or another.

Yummy foods I make: Lots of stuff from sweats sweets to main courses to hors d’oeuvres and everything in between.  Although I can cook quite well, I don’t like to unless absolutely necessary.  I mostly prefer food to be enjoyable from beginning to end; that means I don’t want to work at it.

Zodiac sign: To cover my bases: Sagittarius (archer), Year of the Dog (metal); Yin (younger brother [how appropriate as I’m technically the baby of the family]), Ophiuchus (serpent bearer [that’s disturbing…]), Fire, Advachiel, Dhanus, and Riuros (cold-time).

Next time won’t you sing with me…

By the way, I’ve included the base list below the fold.  Feel free to copy and paste it if you want to respond in the comments or use it elsewhere.

Continue reading →

I watch the news mostly to see what lies the weather forecasters will tell.  They have suffered tremendously with an undeniable inability to predict accurately the weather around these parts, and I mean in a sense more blatant than the normal “predicting the weather in Texas is a fool’s game” errors they all make due to our rather abrupt climate patterns.  In the last week, one could truthfully declare they have been wrong more often than they have been right.  They say it’s going to rain, and it doesn’t.  They say it’s going to be sunny, and it’s cloudy and drizzly.  They warn of severe thunderstorms rolling in from the west, and it stays dry and parched.  They tell us it will be a warm and muggy night, and apocalyptic thunderstorms leap upon us and scare everyone out of bed in the wee hours of the morning.  Anyway, the point is I watch the news this evening so I might know what predictions to laugh at in the morning and what weather not to expect.  Dire threats of severe thunderstorms overnight notwithstanding — followed by a quiet night of cloudy yet dry weather — I turn off the television and go to bed.

In usual fashion, Grendel makes his way to the pillows upon which my head rests and finds a comfortable spot in which to sleep.  Ensuring he is in physical contact with me, he curls up, lays his chin on my arm, sighs that comforting feline breathe that declares, “I have arrived!  And I am going to sleep!”, and then begins purring quietly as he always does in his contentment.  I whisper to him in the darkness something I’m quite sure was silly and childish, and coo a bit to entice from him the rumbling purr I so love to hear.  He does not disappoint me.

In the bathroom where the food and water bowls rest, the sound of dainty “crunch… crunch… crunch…” tells me Kako is grabbing her pre-bedtime snack.  How predictable she is in that way.  Rarely do I go to bed without hearing her nighttime meal.  After sufficient food intake, the munching will be followed by the dainty “slurp… slurp… slurp…” of water consumption, a sound normally not heard except in the absolute silence and stillness of the night.  I can then expect her to come and muscle her way into bed as soon as her belly is full and appetite sated.

Loki joins me immediately following Grendel.  I can not always be certain what Loki intends to do when he finally graces us with his presence in this manner.  Perhaps he will find a comfortable spot, curl up, and go to sleep; perhaps he will climb upon my chest and purr loudly and incessantly in my face, normally interspersed with gentle paws to the cheeks and nose and chin, sometimes even going so far as to kiss my face while his long whiskers tickle me; perhaps he will walk annoyingly and repeatedly over me and everyone else as he roams about the bed trying to locate that special sweet spot; perhaps he will leave the bed to go play a bit, a process I am convinced is intended solely to exhaust his midnight crazies before returning to the bedroom for some sleep.  On this night, he receives a bit of attention from me before finding a place to rest — in this case, near Grendel.

Kazon acts out his usual routine by sitting beside the bed waiting for me to get settled, after which he leaps up, gets some attention, then either rests on the pillow next to my head, or curled up or stretched out against my side, a position almost always marked with his head resting on my arm or chest.  On this night, he jumps onto the bed, immediately stands upon my chest, and then gives me several affectionate head butts followed by a quick kiss on the end of the nose.  I whisper a few affectionate phrases to him, urge him to go to sleep, scratch his chin and neck and head, then watch happily as he climbs atop the pillows and lies down against my head.  He is the king of bedtime, of that I’m sure, as there is never a question about where he might be overnight: it’s always in bed with me, almost always under the covers before the night is through.

With Kako’s incessant and ladylike crunching quietly sounding from the bathroom, I give each of the boys some attention before settling myself in for sleep.  With one last glance out the windows toward the patio to see whether or not the raccoons have arrived for their evening snack, and finding they are not yet there, I close my eyes.

I can not be sure of the passage of time, but I assume only 30 seconds or so actually pass before I am aware of something amiss.  What it is I can not say.  I simply have that feeling.  In one smooth and fluid movement, I open my eyes and turn my head toward Kazon who is still leaning against my face.

He is not trying to go to sleep.  Even in the dark, I can see he is staring at Loki who rests comfortably against me opposite Kazon and inches away from Grendel.  Huh…  I suspect he might be a bit jealous that The Great Satan is too near to me.  Kazon can be quite possessive when it comes to his daddy.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

His head immediately turns in my direction.  Always the strategic mind, impressive for the dumb jock of the house, he places another sweet kiss on the end of my nose and promptly rubs his face against mine.  The purr wells up within him as I reach over and rub his head gently, and his outstretched neck and upwardly held head tell me he is quite happy.

“Don’t worry about him,” I say referring to Loki.  “It’s time for bed, so let’s go to sleep.”

He rubs his head against my hand as I continue scratching him for a bit.  This is truly a blissful cat.  As soon as I stop, however, I notice his gaze returns to Loki who is already trying to fall asleep.  I begin to comprehend the issue.  Kazon watches Loki carefully and closely.  He is, after all, lying right there next to me, even going so far as to be in physical contact with me.  Poor Kazon.  He surely must feel the evil one is trying to elbow his way in on Kazon’s relationship with Daddy.

As the baby of the house, Kazon assumes it’s all about him, and he can be quite jealous as I said.  Some times can be worse than others in this regard.  Confident I had discovered Kazon’s malfunction, I shower upon him a bit more attention to keep his mind off of things.  This is satisfactory from my perspective, and it appears to placate his mood and help him become more restful.  This goes on for several minutes before I decide it is time to go to sleep.

“There.  See, Daddy loves you,” I assure him.  “Now let’s go to sleep, OK?  Loki’s not bothering you.  He’s trying to sleep, so let’s join him.”

A few more scratches and he seems ready at last to find slumber.  I again get comfortable and close my eyes.  Only a few minutes pass before Kazon begins to stir.  I again open my eyes to follow him as he stands, stretches, and then walks over me to Loki’s position.  At first, I am confident this will get ugly, that he simply will not tolerate Loki’s nearness to me, not to mention that unending motor-like purr that reverberates around the room.  Instead of an attack, however, he plants several kisses atop his head as though he wants only to wish him a good night.

“That’s sweet.  Giving your brother a goodnight kiss?” I whisper.  No sooner are the words out of my mouth and on the air when Kazon brutalizes Loki with several lightning-fast smacks to the head, an assault that sends the ferocious feline levitating off the bed and expeditiously zooming out of the room.

“Hey!” I try scolding through laughter I obviously am unable to control.  “That wasn’t nice at all!  What was that for?  He wasn’t bothering you?”

I sternly point at Kazon and wag my finger to let him know I am talking to him.  You see, I’ve found pointing to be as successful a disciplinary action with him as spanking might be otherwise.  Since by the time I spank him he’s already forgotten what he did to deserve it and can’t comprehend why I’m hitting him, not to mention a smack on the ass for Kazon is like trying to discipline a dog with a piece of string because he’s just too big and strong of a cat to feel it as more than a healthy tap, pointing is the last refuge of scolding in which I can demonstrate to him that he has erred.  OK, I admit it: pointing doesn’t work either, but it’s the best I can offer for this particular member of the family.

With my finger wagging in his face as I continue expressing my dissatisfaction at this unnecessary disruption of bedtime, Kazon leans forward and kisses my finger lovingly and gently, then he promptly steps around my hand and onto my chest before planting yet more kisses on my face, followed promptly, of course, by more head rubbing.

“Damn it, Kazon!” I say through continuing giggles.  It is then I see Kako peaking around the bedroom door trying to determine what the mayhem is about, and my laughter becomes full and robust, uproarious even, and that disrupts Grendel and sends him off the bed to seek a more peaceful place.  Now I am caught up in a deep belly laugh that shakes the entire bed, and this in turn ejects Kazon and sends him out of the room.  He flees rapidly through the bedroom door which sends Kako into panic, so she also turns and runs into the darkness.

I look around the empty bed, empty bedroom, and disheveled sheets.  And I laugh harder, if such a thing is possible.  They will be back, of that I’m sure, and this time I hope it’s with more peaceful intentions.

Just before I close my eyes again, I see the raccoons on the patio enjoying an evening meal.  Well, at least I have some company.