I received this email from Lloyd:

Hi Jodi,

I thought you might like to hear about my encounter with the guy who works at the Fun Hole.

I was walking back from the Indian restaurant and saw half a dozen police cars, lights flashing, parked along thhe north side of 35th St.

As I got closer, I saw that there was yellow police tape around the outside of the jewelry store, a handful of cops clustered at store entrance and another group in the alley that runs from Deluxe Junk back behind the building. A more civilian-looking gentleman was videotaping the scene.

The guy working at the Fun Hole was leaning over his counter, the better to see the proceedings. I asked him what happened.

He said two guys pulled up into the alley and one of them ran into the jewelry store. At the time, he said, he just thought the guy was late for work or something. Apparently the man forced the jewelry store clerk out of the store, and began grabbing jewelry. He then ran back to his accomplice, who was waiting in the car.

“I was going to go after him,” the Weenie seller said, “but they just took off. The guy was like half hanging out the car and they just took off.”

He nodded toward the fellow with the video camera.

“If that dumb-ass knew how to do a story he’d be interviewing me. I saw the whole thing. I’ve got a face made for television.”

Made for television, did you hear that? The Fun Hole is fast becoming my favorite place in Fremont.

Mr. Moon and I had lunch on Saturday as I was on the west side of the lake, and he was there working overtime. We’d recently chatted about my beef stroganoff cravings and how you just don’t see beef stroganoff in restaurants. Not being something he ever wanted, he had not realized.

Mr. Moon: Hey… do you guys have beef stroganoff?

Waiter: uhh… beef stroganoff? no, man, we don’t have that.

Jodi: It’s really not that common.

Mr. Moon: I would have thought it would be everywhere.

Jodi: Because it’s comfort food?

Waiter: Yeah… beef stroganoff is like something a mom makes. And Mac back there?*points to the kitchen* He ain’t no mom!

Our waiter was a witty, but slow, young man with an enterprising spirit. Despite the fact that it took forever to get the check, I gave him a pretty good tip because, like he told us, “Dude… this is my job, you know? And I need it. I need it to make money for drugs…. I mean SCHOOL! He-he-he-he.”

Well, it was my intention to celebrate the official beginning of autumn with a new color scheme. A Fall color scheme. I had it all done, was showing it to a couple of people for feedback, and then suddenly… I hated it. I changed some colors and other details… still hated it. So, no fall theme for now. I’m skipping on to my next theme idea. So you have that to look forward to.

Wow, other than that, I don’t have much to say for myself. Hmmmm… I must be saving it up for tomorrow’s 50 Word Fiction – the theme is Autumn.

I got a speeding ticket on the way to work today. I’d only been on the road for about 3 minutes, I was matching the speed of the cars on the road, and it wasn’t fast, or so I thought. I’m not that bright first thing in the morning. It went something like this.

Cop: Hi, pulled you over because you were going 27 in a school zone. Were you aware of your speed?

Me: uhhh…. speed?

Cop: Do you know the speed limit when children are present?

Me: errrr…. children?

Cop: That’s right, it’s 20 mph when children are present.

Me: hee! kids are funny!

Cop: Do you have a driver’s license, miss?

Me: DO YOU HAVE A 44 OUNCE DR. PEPPER? Because I’ll trade you!!

Thank you, Andy, for reminding me that today is Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Avast and Ahoy, everyone!

Hey, not nearly as crabby, but Monday left me with a cold. Not a cold bad enough to keep me home or anything. Just one to annoy me. It’s great. Makes me dim. I tried three or four times to write a blog post yesterday, but kept ending up with “blah.” So I’ve mostly been working on a blog design for someone.

Dim, however, is the perfect state to be in when one is playing the sims. Whenever I am feeling dim, I like to create sim families. I’m still looking for “the one.” Usually, I end up with a sim I like the best, and I concentrate on her and her life. Yes, it’s usually a female sim. I had a sim tragedy a couple of weeks ago. I lost everything. All my sims. Including Coral, who was my “one.” So I am rebuilding. Creating lots of sims, still looking for the inspiration. Yesterday I created Oscar. Poor Oscar, he recently lost his wife in a drowning accident. No, I did not kill her this time. It’s pre-story. I’ve killed before, but not in the Sims2, since you can simply move someone out to get rid of them. Anyway, Oscar has two tempestuous teenage daughters, Rose and Daisy. His hands are full. He, currently, is following a career in law enforcement, because it makes the most money right away. And he’s all about the success and money. As is his daughter, Daisy, which is why she took an after school job… in CRIME! duh-duh-DUH! Oh the drama. Rose is more concerned about learning and knowledge. She wants to get into private school, if she has to drag Daisy with her kicking and screaming. Will she be successful? Should she potentially sacrifice grades for the chance to enter into the science field with an after school job? Or should she pursue medicine? Will Daisy stay in crime after she graduates, or make the natural progression into politics? What about Oscar, is he going to be alone forever? Can he get over the loss of his nameless, yet soggy, wife and find new love? Who knows? I haven’t made it up yet.

Wheee-hooo, kids! It’s a new school year. I’ve got a fresh spiral notebook and a shiny new bic pen right here, and I’m not afraid to take names if need be. I know some people think that a fresh clean slate comes at the beginning of the New Year, but anyone who is anyone knows it comes in the fall, with the new school supplies and fall clothes. Screw summer… that show off season. I’ve got a note getting me out of PE, and I heart autumn. If it wasn’t in the “to be dry cleaned eventually possibly never” pile, I’d be wearing my catholic school girl skirt today.

There is a breeze outside. For a moment I was standing next to some bright pink and purple flowers in a parking lot. I don’t know what kind, peonies maybe? All the sudden, I was smack in the middle of springtime in Tulsa. Deja Vu weather. Happens to me all the time.

Now my window is open so I can feel the breeze inside, I’m listening to the soundtrack to Amélie and I feel like writing a story.

Hi! Sorry for the silence… I had a bit of a stomach flu thingy going on. Better now. Blech.

I failed to mention, on the 27th, that my blog is now three years old. Yes… three years. I can’t think of anything I’ve stuck with for three years. Except my family. And my job. And my cat. And some of my friends. And my apartment… ok, I lie. I do many things for more than three years. But not usually of the hobby variety. Except read, I’ve always done that. Ok, ignore me.

To celebrate, I will tell you a story about birth. Last Friday, Louise went to a Mariner’s game with me, my mom and her husband Bob. This was Louise’s first major league baseball game. In truth, I think she had more fun than she expected, in terms of the game itself. But in the car, on the way to the game, my mom told us about her patient, and her theory on birth and personality. She, the patient, believes that a certain amount of your personality is determined by the circumstances at your birth. Example: easy birth, easy baby, and so on. I don’t know if this is true, but my mom did give it some thought. My older brother’s birth was pretty text book, she says, but almost immediately they had to worry about him. He was sent to Children’s there were complications, he had to be monitored, blah blah blah, drama. Take that as you will. Now me… I was two and a half weeks late. Also, I had not dropped down, the way babies are supposed to before birth, I guess. My mom said I was stubborn and reluctant, I liked it inside where it was warm and dark, and I would not be rushed. Yup… sounds about right. I liked sleeping in from the very beginning. But I guess finally I dropped and came out. When I was good and ready. I suppose I just expect everyone to be ready when I finally am.

I’m not sure I buy into the theory, I’m sure there are perfectly wonderful, splendid laid back people who had very scary and emotional births. This blogs birth was pretty natural. I don’t even remember making the decision. Just… BAMF! One day I started a blog. Didn’t even need an epidural. And… that’s the end of the story. You know, I thought it would be more exciting when I started it. Oh well… I’ve been sick. *cough cough* you can’t blame me *cough* I’m still weak.

Last Thursday night I decided to go meet strangers in a dive bar. And I took Louise with me. Because if anyone can charm potentially strangers in a dive bar, it’s Louise.

Truthfully, they aren’t complete strangers. Cam and Lara, who comment here, and author they occasional 50 word fiction, invited me to their monthly "have drinks in a dive bar with a whole bunch of people we know some of whom we just met." The first thing Cam did was give us each a dollar for the juke box, as it was the best juke box ever. I played Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, Neil Diamond, Cheap Trick and the Violent Femmes. I was able to prove that Louise is not just a little character on my blog, and she really does have a Scottish accent. Well, at least I was able to prove it to Cam and Lara. We met lots of really nice people, including one woman with whom we chatted for quite a while, and yet she was not insulted when we told her we couldn’t remember her name. Lynn. I remember it now. I’m horrible with names. The second you introduce someone to me, I will instantly forget their name.

So Cam is affectionate and touchy, and Louise is not, and I think that if I were to arrange them at a table again, I would definitely put them next to each other. Just to watch Cam try not to touch her [she is really so very adorable, it’s hard not to want to just pat her arm at least] and Louise try not to yell "bad touch! bad touch!" And Lara knows all the words to "I Want it Now" [aka: bean feast] from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Which just so happens to be a favorite song of mine to sing. Because, it really is my bar of chocolate, you know.

Anyway, you know you are having fun when you lose track of time, and soon it was 1 am on a school night. As Louise and I were walking back to the car, we passed a club, across the street, with loud hip hop streaming out. Three fine young gentlemen in very saggy trousers were hanging out on the side walk. As we walked past them, Louise was doing that talking thing you do, when you don’t want some stranger to talk to you or ask you to sign their petition or give them a dollar. Nonetheless… one of the Fine Young Gentlemen with Saggy Trousers asked if we were sisters. To which I replied, politely, "Oh no… no we are not sisters."

He was just surprised that I would actually answer him, and thanked me for the response. As we passed, one or more of the FYG w/ ST yelled out to us. "hey… you got something fine following you!"

"Louise, we have something following us… do you think it’s a puppy?"

More yelling from the FYG w/ST that indicated it was indeed not a puppy, but rather it was a booty. I don’t know which one, maybe both.

"No, it’s not a puppy. I do believe he is referring to our fine posteriors."

"Hmmm… I wish it was a puppy."

But when we got in the car, we broke into a rousing rendition of "Baby Got Back" anyway.

I’m still waiting for my bean feast, by the way.