I am sorry that I have been remiss in posting. A schedule change and ordinary family obligations have left me a bit short on blogable time.

But never fear, I have material set aside and shall blog in abundance this weekend.

Now back to the internet, which is already in progress.

Way off!

First off, Wishing good luck to all effected by the hurricanes.

Second off, (And this one seems WAY off...) I saw a video today of Cindy Sheehan (Did I spell that right?) being arrested. She seemed indecently happy to be carried away by the police. This woman seems to have become addicted to the public eye. This makes her capable of almost anything.

Please take note that I am not commenting about her views of the President or her politics. I am saying that she strikes me as someone that has taken a short step off the reality bridge. Her recent photos remind me of the 'Runaway Bride' with that wild look in the eye and flair for the unreasonable.

Third off, In the local news this week; some rather prominant people in state government have been arrested for racketeering. For years I have been telling people from out of state that our state flower is the Orange Barrel. I have been informed this week that it is now the Greased Palm.

Doing the right thing.

Not that long ago, my desk faced the family fish tank. It is not really much as fish tanks go, with just one goldfish and a Spongebob Squarepants key fob for company.

Remington (the goldfish) became a member of the family several years when he was a prize fish in some kiddy carnival at the local elemantary school. As he grows larger, so do his tanks. He lives in a twenty-five gallon tank now in something approximating fishy heaven.

I was thinking how nice it would be for me to not be staring at the Remington when I was not staring at my screen. I got yet another of my bright ideas, and started mentioning to Mrs. Troll that the fish was staring at me.

I know that fish are not very smart and do not do tricks or anything. They just kind of swim around the tank and taste everything that will fit in their fishy little mouths. I don't believe I have even seen Remington blink, so certainly he is staring at me, and everything else in his fishy domain.

After a couple of weeks, I mentioned that I was becoming convinced that Remington was a terrorist fish, with devious intent. Mrs. Troll looked at me with disbelief and asked how I would know that. Thinking quickly (Or not at all) I told her that I had seen it reading a little fishy Koran and wearing a little fishy towel on its head.

It was at that point that Mrs. Troll became convinced that I was really insane and began making arrangements to get me some professional help.

I did, after some time and fast talking, convince her that I was not crazy and that the whole thing was a joke and a way to get her to move the fish tank.

Several days later yellow sticky notes began appearing on the tank with messages like "I am going to get you, and your kitties too!", and signed with Remington's name.

So I did what I should have done in the first place

I moved my desk to the other side of the room, with my back to the tank.

Working out.

Another fine idea that went astray. Instead of being thrown out of the house for an afternoon of playing in the sun and generally having a good time, I had to go shopping with Mrs. Troll.

She wanted to lunch with a friend at a resturant that caters to the environmentally aware and health conscious. I saw more plastic surgury in that one room than I have seen in my life.

Why is it that people that will not eat a dead cow will pay some stranger to put plastic bags of salt water under their skin? I watched one woman that had one too many face lifts. Her skin was so tight that when she spoke, the end of her nose would twitch.

Another woman had the ass and legs of an eighteen year old and the face of a creature in a TV show from the seventies. Her skin appeared as though her hair was pulled far too tight in the back of her head. I think that if I would have gotten closer, I could have read the serial numbers on her breast implants.

My favorite was the woman from Santa Fe that came in wearing Harley Davidson bicycling clothes, complaining loudly about the how much it cost her in gas to drive to Albuquerque to go bicycling. She ordered a twelve dollar organic sandwich and a four dollar organic drink and then asked if the ice was organic.

If money was an issue, perhaps she could have remained in Santa Fe. Maybe she could have done some of her own gardening instead of bicycling in a neighboring city. If she wanted a workout, she could have done some actual work this weekend instead of hiring an unregistered alien to clean her house and do her gardening.

And speaking of workouts, I have to go fix the shoe that I tore up in the last post. That idea certainly did not work out as I had intended.

And the dog got to spend her afternoon playing in the sun.

Wake up call.

It is not yet five in the morning and I stand no chance of getting back to sleep. I was startled awake this fine day by the sound of chewing. Not a pleasant sound to wake up to. That kind of sound will make you have strange dreams about getting eaten by evil gnomes. ( I shall save that story for another day.)

After getting out of bed, I learned that one of Mrs. Troll's canine companions was making snack on one of her fine collection of expensive leather doo-dads.

By now, I should be used to this. This particular dog will find things to destroy whenever it becomes bored. Pretty much every night between the hours of after-I-go-to-sleep and when-i-wake-up-and-stagger-to-the-bathroom.

I should have named her 'Shiva the Destroyer'.

Giving her toys to chew is futile. She will always reject these items to choose something from the trash or, better yet, something that has been touched by the last human to reject her never ending demands for attention.

Over the years you would think that I had learned something. Perhaps I have.

Today I am going to chew up a one of Mrs. Troll's shoes and hope that she will throw me outside for the rest of the day.

Test

This is a test. If it happens to be a failure, then I shall pretend that I am a politician and blame my own failure on someone else.

Have crabby day!