Okay, so back and adjusting, re-acclimating, if you will. And it�s so odd, and I feel so very aware and see things so very clearly, yet at the same time, I remain in a bit of a blurry shroud myself. Interesting, indeed. Tuesday night, I went over to Pony�s for some wine and catching up, Cyrano and Kitty went well with the cheese. Then a few of us headed over to Fizgig�s new house! That�s right, 4 men moved into a house not far from Pony. And let me tell you, this ain�t just any ordinary household. It�s a historical building. Complete with it�s own introduction booklet and golden plaque permanently set into its facade.

Hysterical, really. I love that every time they mention their place, it is referred to in its full, historical title name. I cannot wait to attend a function at this house. I�d give you the name of it, but then everyone could look it up and track it down, and we know how much I hate party-crashers. I�m not an elitist; I just have very high standards. And they seem to have raised even higher during my time away. Apparently, a dog named �Bob� used to live in this house before the �handsome and intelligent fox terrier� was poisoned by the neighborhood Dog Poisoner. All of �Bob�s� many friends were devastated to lose him. According to the copy of the article that appeared in the newspaper years ago when this all occurred, he was killed on November 2, and buried just blocks from the house. I�m planning a vigil that day. How fucking great would it be for a long line of people, holding candles, to walk right into your neighborhood, maybe up to your house (who knows if the gravestone is still there), and conduct a remembrance ceremony for �Bob�? Just thinking about it makes me want to pee.

Yesterday was wonderful for so many reasons. I had lunch with Halcyon, complete with sharing, advice, intelligent discourse, and laughter. Not one course missed when you �meal� with this man. I ran some errands, got that flea shit for the cats, headed home and kicked it for a bit. Quick note, this flea shit is disgusting. Advantage, goes on the back of their necks so they can�t lick it off (read that they salivate profusely if they get those sandpapery little tongues on it), but when I got home much later in the evening, well, let�s put it this way � they look like little stegosaurus�s. Because of the greasy and oily base of this flea-killer substance, the fur on the back of my babies has bunched and formed tight spikes all the way down their back. I don�t think they appreciated my little episode of sitting on the couch and just laughing at them for 20 minutes before heading to bed last night. Tee hee. So freakin� funny looking.

I had a wonderful dinner! Pixie cookin�, always good, up at a house where she is staying for the week, caring for and giving love to the pets while the owners are away, her own business that she�s working hard to get off the ground, and lately, she seems to be catching a lot of air. Tucker, the adorable dog. At first, I was surprised to find Tucker humping my leg as Pixie and I were discussing the Grandfather Clock in the vestibule. But she assured me that his owners assured her, that he only did that to people he liked when he felt their attention diverted elsewhere. She said I should be very flattered, for he had not yet done this to her. Hmm. We decided to test it, sick as we are. I just had to know if this adorable, huge, and soft fluffy dog with blue eyes really did prefer me in this mix.

We went to the parakeet and started to sweet-talk the bird. Sure enough, here comes Tucker, up on my right leg. What a good boy. We had quite a laugh about it, and several great conversations flowed naturally like cars on an empty freeway pass throughout the evening. I got my laundry done (yay!), we shared pictures (even MORE pics from my birthday party in LA, and while my makeup was still on!! Big YAY!), I showed her the pics I got back from the east coast and shared with her some anecdotes that didn�t quite make my log. It was lovely, like I said, and dinner was delicious. So much going on and I don�t even have a job yet! Crazy, this thing called life. And we know, I always LOVED Crazy.

-Barbarella

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