#daydrinkingthoughts...

I don't think John knows anything about Neal Cassady, but I could be wrong.

Neal Cassady was a major player in the Beatnik Generation and driver of the psychedelic counter-culture. In the pages of The Electric Koolaid Acid Test, author Tom Wolfe talked about Cassady and his Radio I-Ching. If I am remembering correctly, Cassady would carry a nonstop monologue whilst driving. As he drove and while he talked, he would occasionally reach over and turn the radio dial. Tom Wolfe said Cassady would magically stop the dial on a song that played off his commentary. Every time.  Radio I-Ching.

 Neal Cassady died in 1968.

In 1968, John wasn't even thought of yet. '80's kid - I bet John isn't as old as my last husband; maybe older than my daughter. John feeds money into the jukebox at his bar, and it seems like he knows the words to every song in the machine.

I'm sitting at the bar with iced tea and water, working on a series of illustrations which represent mood disorders…

I got my current job when I wasn't looking for a job. I made a good move. It was also an example of me following my own advice (yeah, that happens sometimes): always follow up on opportunities; you can say no later, if you want to say no. Yeah, saying no is not always easy, but it is always an option.

As much as I enjoy my Tiny Cottage, I keep checking for other accommodations. I'd not have found the cottage if I hadn't been checking for opportunities, so.  Of course the ones that look too good to be true are just that, but sometimes I will send a query. Today's spammy response was especially creative, or possibly creepy:

 Also i will like you to know that the rent charges is not really the issue ,but your absolute maintenance of my townhome is most important thing.
One Mrs Yolanda price called me about the townhome ,I told her that I can't give her the townhome because she loves smoking,drinking and don't want her to get drunk and damaged my property one day …

I've written pages and pages on this post but I think I'm getting close to cleaning it up for normal consumption - Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level 6.  We're still going around the block, though - come on.

Humans are social animals, and we want to connect. We learn our patterns through our parents first; then, through a series of trials and errors, we try to collect people we like who also like us.

Or we learn to like that which we attract, and we let our collection define us. We learn to follow as a default.

Friend and author Mari Sloan gave a great explanation of how not all natural leaders are the same:
Packs are the problem. Leaders either have a "world" mentality, or a "pack" mentality. People are that way, too. Crowds gravitate toward a good "pack leader," because that person makes them feel safe, removes the necessity for thinking out situations as they come up, asks for nothing but loyalty. That sort of leader is totally happy with themsel…

I am seeing a potential negative to all this new-found awareness of self that's permeated the inter-verse. I say it like that because 1) I have several decades-long friendships that are maintained through electronic communications, and 2) I and many other people are putting our opinions on self-care and toxicity out on the internet, so they all look valid.

Let me first disclaim that I don't like to talk on the phone. Besides doing it all day for my job, I rely on visual cues in conversation. I tend to go off on monologues until I can see the person I'm talking to is either confused or doesn't care. I also have the opposite problem and I hesitate while speaking - my adopted son Mike calls me St. Deb of Understatement.
 Your mannor of speaking on the phone alludes to the possibility of you having perfect comedic timing. I have lousy comedic timing. I'm looking for the right word so my audience will get me the first time; I don't like to repeat myself or be igno…

Tiny cottage is really tiny. I can barely prep food or clean up after myself, and definitely not at the same time. So when I knocked something off the counter, it smashed into this lime green vintage Anchor Hocking bowl. My cat gets fancy dinnerware - what can I say?

I chided myself for my materialistic ways. I don't know whether my Catholic upbringing is really to blame, but admonishment is required any time something goes awry. There's a fatwa somewhere.

So I took a picture of  the crash, from a cat's view to be artsy and to acknowledge her chagrin, and I planned to email it to Moe and say, "We can't have nice things...", but then I noticed a pink bit of fuzz in the middle of the picture.

I've spent the last week editing photos from Bino's momma's birthday party.  Before that was Charlotte's birthday party. So maybe it was reflexive, but next thing I know I am spending five minutes retouching the pink fluff, and scuffs on the wall, and what…

Slice the peach like Grammie always did -  with sugar and milk in the same bowl with the same knife with the same longing.

When my daughter Alia was living with K's aunt, she was asked to mind K for an afternoon.

"K doesn't like bread crust," Alia was warned. "You'll need to cut it off her sandwich or she won't eat."  K was an adorable 4-year-old at the time. Things that seem trivial to adults are terribly important when you're 4. (The 4-year-olds probably have the best perspective, but that's a different blog post.)

"Okay," Alia said, and then she didn't do it.  She was a teenager - I don't need to explain this.

You will probably guess that K ate the sandwich with nary a peep. You would be correct; that isn't the point I'm making, though.

Alia explained to K's aunt that the sandwich was eaten, crust and all. Aunt was amazed, and K just smiled with her sweet little face.

The next time K's aunt was minding her, the sandwich was served with crust. And K refused to eat.

There's probably a legitimate psychological term for the …