An insensitive, cruel shaggy dog story disguised as a letter of sympathy to my friend Miss S.

------------------------------- From: S.<xxxxxxxx@comcast.net> Well this does sound like a great start to the day.. better then mine.. i woke up with a puppy that has a sore paw and tried to wrap it.. Eventually successfully.. Went to start my car for early am work and found my sister had a flat tire... and forgot to eat before leaving for work.. then at work it was all downhill from there You look great on the scooter enjoy the rest of your week S. ------------------------------- Good evening Miss S., Ow, poo poo and frig-a-duck! ... is what I say when that happens, or something sounding very roughly similar. It won't spend at any bank, but I do pucker and wince and care when I hear of other people's tough days. "Thank God there was no gunfire involved", I usually say. I suspect your week will get better, or at least next week or the one after will. I'll chew on that good idea a little, being hopeful for you. So, tonight P. and I made new friends with several "farmers" at the local street market. We also met a fun community activist / lady manager of a "senior" apartment house just down the street from the old South Lake Union Community Center and the Community Garden. It seems that community activism has become the growth industry among African Americans these days. That seems so very just and right to me. Thank you Mr. President. I often wonder at our outrageous gall in believing we have any right at all to pass any judgment on any consenting adults about "status" or their harmless choices in life. It seems that this week U.S. District Chief Judge Vaughn R. Walker agrees. Duuuuh. Every Thursday the Cascade Farmers Market sells good stuff in the street by the Community Garden. We have attended two Thursdays in a row. The "farmers" all bring potluck meats and veggies and one brings a grill and charcoal. A fiddle player and a trombonist provide good toe-tappin' music. One couple did an impromptu, scary Cirque du Soleil type dance over hard asphalt without a single crunching, bloody fall, all my tense angst for naught. After selecting some beautiful fresh beets-with-tops-still-on, blackberries, a couple of used books and a pretty good home-made lemon bar we went to the corner Irish pup for a Coke and a Guinness and some excellent food. P. ate a very tasty steak sandwich and I enjoyed a yummy meat loaf with delicious Guinness gravy. We will go back for more. The used books came from the woman who owns Inner Chapters & Cafe here at South Lake Union (who also brews some pretty good coffee). One book is One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest and the other is The Standard Life of a Temporary Pantyhose Salesman, translated from Italian. The back cover of Pantyhose Salesman reads, "A disgraceful story. Buggery and incest, suicide, murder, bribery and corruption, extortion, blackmail: all human life is here. Not since Boccaccio have the manners and morals of Italy been so ruthlessly laid bare." Independent. It sounds kinda juicy, very good bodacious fun: good rooftop-garden-reading, with Guinness in hand with which I will toast you, for these sooo nice sunny days overlooking outstandingly beautiful South Lake Union... et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum... So, it could always get worse, for example: if you should wish me to continue with this very long shaggy dog story... Grin. Hugs, K., P., Sparky, Dubya, Fr. Grigori (after Rasputin, the "Mad Monk", who is perceived as having influenced the latter days of the Russian Nicholas II, his wife Alexandra, and their only son Alexei. ), our new red beta fighting fish, & the twin dull-green pygmy African aquatic frogs: our latest roadside zoo. PS. I hope your puppy is feeling better soon. Father Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin, for which our Beta is named, stares piercingly, ever so hypnotically into your eyes...