Happy Birthday Scarlet!

Last week I got the most adorable email ever. "Hi I'm Scarlet, I'm almost 8 years old and all I want for my birthday is some Olive and Dingo dolls. My Mom said she would get them for me if I found you. Please tell me how to get dolls. Scarlet." That was the most charming Email I ever opened. Olive was impressed and made time to build these for her. I asked Scarlet what colors she liked and she replied "I like Space" We didn't have a lot of space themed fabric. Olive ended up butchering her own cosmic mini-skirt to make the booties and my hat band. I love that Olive cares most for the kid enjoying the dolls. Now the fun part. Delivering the dolls via tallbike. WooHoo! Happy Birthday Scarlet!

I hope one day when Scarlet is in her 50's she lovingly pulls these dolls out of a box in the back of the closet. She smiles at us reminiscing about her childhood in Portland. Remembering the adventures she took us on. Then she introduces us to her almost 8 year old grand kid who treats us gingerly like the relics we have become.

Last night there was a bunch of sporadic automatic gun fire as people were "settling in" to the new Portland.

 My son and I were playing Civ4. He suddenly looked up then we both hit the floor. 
"What is that Dad." I said "That's close sporadic machine gun fire followed by a chorus of screaming and car tires screeching my boy." 
He egressed to the back of the house to alert Olive (who didn't care). 
When he came back I had to inform him that he grew up around gun battles he just never noticed. One time someone riddled the house across the street with a Kalashnikov and he slept right through it. 
I told him not to fear. "Your Texan Dad will protect you from anything and I don't even need a gun. But a good rule of thumb is If you see me or the dog hiding or running away then that's a great cue for you to do the same. 
Also we don't have a dog so that would be you in that roll anyway. 
I turned the cop radio on and hilariously learned that the citizen version comes with ads now. 
I got to hear a jingly Burgerville commercial before finding out nothing.

I won't tell on you.

My partner is a fine communicator. She asks lots of questions and makes lots of statements. Her worldview and motives are crisp and clear. Me notsomuch. I'm more underground, nebulous, esoteric.
I got a lot of "security culture" ingrained from my background. Hiding in plain sight is the whole reason to be a clownarchist. Now that we are parlaying a lot of masks it's evident that I need to up my game.
Or stop taking mask orders.
Olive will ask "What's their name?" I don't know so I shrug. "You never asked a name?" Nope. Nonna my beezwax. If they don't tell me, I'm not asking.
If anyone else asks their name I'm sure not gonna be the one giving them up. See the system works.
I will get them their masks no matter what. Still to be a better huzbind I'm working on opening up.
The ancients of Byzantium kept the secret of Naptha (greek fire) so well they forgot it resulting in them losing Constantinople and having their asses handed to them by the Arabs.
I recognize that sometimes I look like a donkey when I keep too many secrets. Her: "What would you like for dinner hon?" Me: "Who's asking?"

Sometimes we accidentally make a scene. 

I will be leaving a crowded room and Olive will innocently ask "Where are you going?" 

I freeze like the cops are banging on the door. 

People notice. 

Now everyone is looking at me and all I can think of is "I'm certainly not about to tell this whole room where I'm going." 

So I end up going to the bathroom rather than smoking weed by the dumpster. I'm not complaining, it keeps me regular.

We did a gig near a troop of Girl Scouts once.

We did a gig near a troop of Girl Scouts once. They set up cookie station after us.
Eavesdropping on them getting started I was delighted to hear them delegate and make a plan sans any adults.
They were a divers crowd, Karma free, the only agenda was making a living for the troop and it's causes.
I thought "This is it. This committee of 12 years olds are morally beyond reproach, Good at math/clear communication, totally obsessed with equity and committed to making the whole thing a gigglefest.
I would trust these kids with the most powerful military and our weakest citizens.
The executive branch should be like the band Menudo.

I visit F.R.Limbo most often.

There are three places I try not to go on Facebook. Occasionally I stumble on them and remember why. The "poke room" it's a sea of pokes.
Poking back and forth many times feels like cheating on my wife. The other spot is "Message requests" This is the most entertaining one because it's a lot of people griping me out, telling me to shut up and threatening me.
The last is the place I call "Friend request limbo" That's where people who friend request me but have no face on facebook.
A friend request with no accountability is like someone standing with 30 bumperstickers in front of their face asking "will you be my friend?"
I don't delete them if none of the bumperstickers are toxic. I know some folks have issues with their appearance. If all the pics are flowers and cats I assume it's an elderly person, mutilated doll heads and conspiracy theories don't get a pass.
I visit F.R.Limbo most often.
As soon as some of those folks post a pic of themselves and some kind of trail then I accept. They have to be accountable and I have to protect the 3000 sumthing Friends on my list.
If someone friend requests you and I am the only mutual friend please don't assume I know who it is. I
'm happy to tell ya what I know, just ask.

Teaching my son how dumb people can be I recounted Halloween 2001.

The tragic event at the Twin Towers had just happened. Totally unrelated we at the Clown House possessed a decommissioned hazmat suit.
I decided to rock it as my Halloween costume and go Trick or Treating. 
Exactly one block away I'm marching around in that hot thing and through the foggy windshield I saw three youths approaching from the mist. 
Yeah all three started working me over with skateboards. I was doubled over. sometimes flailing and attempting to hammer punch. 
Slowly I realized what they were yelling,
 "Fuck you terrorist!" 
Those dummies thought hazmat was a terrorist uniform. I managed to bumrush one into a power pole and they split. "See son, people are stOOpid. And I'm talking about myself. 
I should have known that would happen, If not that, something.
We lived in post 90's North Portland a month after 911" 
It's also possible that the ne'er-do-wels knew exactly who I was and were getting even for some perceived slight or hooliganism on my part.
 If that is the case, Well played young men.
This isn't a sad story. 
I thought the whole thing was hilarious.
 Texans think that kinna crap is funny sometimes. I still had a Corpus Christi accent.
Heads up: Hazmat suit=very good armor vs. skateboard attack.
 Laughing is bad though because I used up too much energy and breath and that's how those pricks got over on me in the first place.

Seriously, I was laughing my head off. I was proud to see our nation's dumbasses rising to the call to protect our country. Had I been a woefully ill-equipped terrorist they would be scoring for our team.

Corner turned. Olive is not in agonizing pain constantly.

 Her kidney infection ordeal is waning. Finally starting to be herself and far more chatty: Just told be the entire plot of the movie Venom. She woke me up this morn in that spectacular way people wake each other when they are grateful for being cared for (with coffee on, a back massage, flurry of careful kisses). Still not right as rain, her abdomen is sore. 
The pain that comes with this infection is intense and leaves echoes. 
Also being on drugs isn't our thing so she took Tylenols and ibuprofens as sparingly as possible. It's interesting that the pain became like a roommate that we have to live with and who has a schedule that we had to abide by. 
Olive: "I should go take a hot bath because my pain will be back on strong in 30 min." I loved her strategies of dressing in mini skirts and half shirts the whole time she was in the worst way. She would be croaking in pain, "You like this right?" Of course I do, but I had to say, "It's.. it's not about me, hon. I don't care what you wear." 
But to her credit I was never more than a shout away from her the whole week. Well played life-mate. I would sleep on the floor so she had as much bed-space as possible. When I thought she was going to wake up I would get up and help her downstairs to the bathroom when I could. 
I couldn't have slept on the bed anyway, because the sounds of torment aren't exactly conducive to sound sleeping . I'm so glad to be on the other side of this. 
Thanks for all the well wishes and support from our friends and family we should be rocking and rolling within' a few days.