Sandy came and went. The trees stopped dancing. We didn’t lose power. we’re in Central Connecticut and the storm sucker punched the coast. They look to be without power for a while. The clean-up will take a real long time. The Karma Express stopped in Ct. A house that survived Irene when its neighbor got wiped out got knocked off its foundation while the neighbor, in the process of being rebuilt, survived. Truth be told if Ilived on the coast and  had to deal with Irene and Sandy I would seriously think about giving up the ocean view and begin looking at property a bit farther inland, like Vermont. I feel bad for all those coastal residents ambushed by the news outlets before Sandy landed. “If your house gets blown to Hell, are you going to rebuild or move?” Most of the people interviewed are at an anxiety level right up there with an IRS audit and are worried about where their house will be after the storm. The reporter is quizzing them because in the reporter’s handbook it tells them that people under stress react in a manner that is condusive to news reporting. That’s why they always manage to ask the families of murder victims “How does this make you feel?” or “Why do you think your son, daughter or relative was slashed by the madman?” It makes me cringe when the new hire on the news team is out in the field trying to gey a reaction/information out of anyone involved. Sometimes it some neighbor who stepped out when all the cop cars and news trucks showed up. That reaction is usually “Thet’re quiet and keep to themselves. I did know they buried ten bodies in the cellar/ had a pot factory/ were supporters of the local Tea Party candidate.” Where I live the cruisers rarely visit and they usually head up into the projects only to come out again.

Went grocery shopping. Expected insanity but was not prepared for the depth of it. The trip started by almost getting run over by a little old man in a Buick station wagon. He just waved at me like it was my fault for walking behind him. Inside the store, the seniors had the run of the place. They wandered about restocking canned goods and bottled water. They scarfed up all the Devilled Ham, a basic food group for Murph. I was preventitive shopping. Buying the items that will be left off the Saturday list and juices and other beverages that are a pain in the ass to haul up the stairs. It works out well, I get my spleeen in need of venting and I lighten my load on the weekend. the downside is, I get stuck into food groups like pizza because I have to buy sauce and in the hopes of it not turning into a science project in the back of the refrigerator. Sometimes the store lures me into a purchase that I really don’t want but at the same time know it’ll save time down the road. Like the two fer one on chicken breasts. I’ve settled in to chicken breasts braised with Progresso Recipe Starters. It covers at least three meals with pasta and isn’t half bad. I know I could put my education to good use and make it from scratch but I’m lazy and TV ads influence me sometimes. I moved purposefully through the store avoiding traffic jams in the soup aisle and sidestepping browsers at the meat counter. Got everything on to checkout. Check the list. Forgot Kleenex. Shit. All the way to the far end of the market. Might as well pick up Glade or something like it because the can on the back of the toilet is depositing drops rather than a fine, deodorizing mist. Got to get something masculine. Lilac? No. Pine forest? Not likely. Fresh laundry and sky? Perfect, it’ll kill the offending odors and at the same time remind me of outdoor dried clothes and additionally to call the management company to put up the clothes line. Should have done that in May but didn’t need spray then. At the checkout I wind up in the aisle that Smitty is baggging at. He’s dyed his hair for Halloween. I like him as a bagger. He’s got it down to an art, He double bags the juice and seltzer. He puts the stuff that goes into the refrigerator in the same bags. He doesn’t make the bags unwieldy. He does it just like I did during my short, glorious time as a bagger/stocker for the same company. I was let go because I didn’t have the personality (mindset) to work for the company. I thank them for helping me with the process of discovering my life’s work. I was rejected by the Postal Service for the same reason. I probably gone postal and covered a fellow postman in air mail stamps.

Listened to I’m Not Me by Mick Fleetwood’s Zoo. It isn’t a ground breaking CD. What it is is a great party record. The songs are not long and as soon as one is over the next song takes over. There’s nothing that turns into an earworm. The songs are bar band rock played by musicians who know how to play it. Mick Fleetwood’s drumming is strong, after all it’s his group. It’s good music that won’t interfere with anything you’re doing and karaoke is impossible because the songs a quick and you’d have to play it repeated times to get the lyrics imbeded.

Another try at music. Something queued up for tonight

Sorry computer is fucked. Will have to call sever to roto rooter the system.


Support your local food bank. Be on the lookout for turkey drives. Read to a senior or a kid. Adopt a shelter pet. Somebody find a cure for Larry the Cable Guy. Don’t forget to vote next Tuesday. If you don’t vote, you can’t bitch.

See you on Friday.