Back from my travels

Well, I finally did one of the things I always wanted to do...which is dip my toe in both oceans in one year or less.

I went to California to visit my sister, in Stockton, for a week or so. We had a good time, doing a whole lot of nothing but relaxing, basically. Went to a few flea markets. More on that later...and we went up to a town called Bootjack to visit my nephew, who is 7 month sober, and living somewhere he can't get back into what he was into before. Got a tattoo on my ankle. Damn, it hurt.

My sister bought a house, and it's charming. Lots of room, and a jungle motif. She bought it from a friend's grandparents, so she got a great deal on it. She smokes, but she doesn't smoke in it...she doesn't want her place to look like mom and dad's. Which is brown, due to smoke.

Flea Markets! What is up with them? It used to be they were all stuff people didn't want...now most of them are like a trip to a dollar store. All new stuff. Socks and shampoo and makeup. Very boring. But a good thing, I guess, if you're poor and need staples. There was lots of fresh produce at all of them, too.

I then bid my seester adieu and went to visit my friend and former bandmate, Sean, in San Francisco. His son is very cute, and his girlfriend is nice. We went to a bluegrass festival in Golden Gate State Park. Did a couple of open mics at this club that reminded me of a cross between Phyllis' and Mustache City(Henway knows from Mustache City, LOL!). Depressing. My skills were not mad anymore, and Sean is way too talented to be playing open mics at Spike's. We went to this small town called Pescadero, and ate fresh sea-food lunch at a tavern called Augustus'. The coast looked like a travel brochure for California.

Up top you'll see a photo I took called "the ghost of Glenwood Springs"

I came home for a few days, then went to visit some friends in Boston, which is a city that I love. Rode a horse, drank some wine, ate lots of seafood and fresh produce. Yum. Bought some fresh pesto at a roadside stand that was just awesome. Dipped my toe in the Atlantic. Had a raccoon steal a gallon of apple cider from me, the little bastard.

I was also supposed to have dinner and cocktails with my former boss, Melissa...but she had the nerve to cancel due to her polycystic ovary pain, the bitch.

Spotty

Spot was one fine cat. He went over the bridge on 8/24/06. I'll be picking up his ashes tomorrow. He was loud, goofy and sweet. He made a nest in my hair and slept on my head every night.

He was deaf, and deafeningly loud and had a comment on everything. It's way too quiet.

I stupidly went to Sav-A-Pet a couple weeks after he died looking specifically for a very loud orange and white kitten. Of course I didn't find him. I'll never find him again. Oh well.

Miss ya, Spot. You were a fun-cat.