327 Market

Living La Tia Loca

La Tia Loca left without saying good-bye. Were my get out of Santa Cruz vibes coming on too strong? Or did the Zoloft finally wear off? After deliberating for a few hours this morning, weighing options, the pros and cons of various plans, we decided to bike to Capitola. She biked really slow (I'm the one with gross obesity and the brakes that need to be loosened) except for when she actually wanted to go somewhere (then I could barely keep up with her). When I didn't have to wait for her, it went pretty well. The weather was perfect, the other drivers were polite (very important, since I hate stopping at the stop signs) and we had a nice late lunch at Saturn, again. I had to seriously psyche myself up for being with her, but I didn't do a good enough job. On the way back, she wanted to stop in front of Barrios Unidos to look at a van (it was hotter than blazes and no shade) and she got side-tracked by a speech by MLK that was taped to the window. I offered to meet her at Saturn, if she wanted to hang out on the street corner. She asked me what the rush was. I carefully explained that at Saturn they have Air Conditioning and a Place To Sit Down. And that those were two things that I was craving at that moment. Other than that, I tried to keep my snide comments about her weird slowness and fear of traffic to a minimum. (OK, maybe I was a bitch... but I had forgotten that she had a cancerous tumor removed from her nose two years ago when she made the comment about my white legs and I snapped back that it was a part of my anti-cancer campaign).

As soon as we arrived at the house, she packed up and left. I noticed her car was gone while I was checking my voice messages. Whatever.

FIVE positive things regarding LTL.
She generally pays for the food.
She takes me to cool museums.
She is always in the mood for a cookie.
She bought one of my paintings at full price a few years ago and she still tells me how much she likes it.
She is a good mommy to her dogs.

Quote of the Day

"Extreme relativism is like poking yourself in the brain with an icepick"
pg 23 of the Book of Anne