The Second To Last of The Aunt Linda Posts

Day after day we pulled the rental car up to Aunt Linda's house, with her car parked in the driveway, and went in there to clean up, throw things away, and decide what was worth the sentimental value for the family or of value to anyone else. By the third day in a row driving up there I must admit it felt like punching into a job that I hated. The work was hard physically as well as emotionally. We finished the days drained with our feet aching like we were waiting tables on a double shift, our knees and backs hurting from being on the floor in funny positions going through endless stuff, looking for her will, finding what would need to be shredded, and what would go into the endless trash bags. 

The kind of things aunt Linda kept were the kind of things that didn’t make it easy to just throw things away. You had to sort through all of it and then you had to pull out all her little sticky notes that she had in her books because you couldn’t give them away to someone else with your aunt's crazy notes inside. She had so many notes written down on envelopes and kept them long-term. Why?

Prior to living in the house we were cleaning out, her and her husband Jim lived up the the mountaisn of Colorado in a house they planned entirely. But for some reason they had extra everything such as wall outlets and electrical sockets. After her husband died she got to old to maintain the mountain house, she couldn't chop all the wood anymore at her age, and bats of all things took over inside. When she moved out of that place to a nice Colorado community back in civilization, she took all of the extra stuff from when they built the mountain house, all the door hinges, electrical outlets, and everything else to the point it was like an aisle at Home Depot if you wanted one of some shade one just every single type. So someone who wants stuff for their garage to have everything would be nuts about that but if the niche person doesn’t come to an auction then it's all going into a landfill.

My mom said it was definitely a stressful way to spend her birthday but it was an enjoyable day because she spent it with her kids and she has great kids. We for sure had some nice times at night reminiscing. I tried to explain to my sister and my mom what was so sad about my days working in Aunt Linda's home. Her having such a cluttered house forced me to have to sift through her whole world, all her areas of expertise, photography, sewing, alternative medicine, architecture, birds, and motorcycles to name a few. As a result I learned more about who she really was for really the first time, and she was already dead. I was too late. But the process forced me to properly mourn her. Of course I didn't get through trying to explain all this without crying, and I had a hell of a time stopping. I can't remember the last time I did that in front of anyone. You ever notice when people start crying when they hadn't planned on it, it's often when they try to explain why someone or something was so important to them? It's something about that explaining process where you're trying to get it out and just lose it. 

Oh, and then on the plane ride home we had one of those giant planes with the rows of two on the sides and a big row of four in the middle - and it was totally full. Very scary thinking about catching Covid on that thing. Then this Asian guy in tinted blue glasses hops on board the plane without a mask. The woman next to him said something about being scared of getting sick, and this asshole says, "We're all going to die some time. We can't live in fear. Then he launches into something about how he has guns and how he pets his gun like an animal, and how he will shoot anyone on his property. He says he lives in California and the governor there is a communist. He's saying this all loudly to make sure people around him hear his nonsense. My sister says to me just as loudly, "This would be a great time to put on some headphones!" I said back even more loudly, "Yes, some loud music. The louder the better!" And then my sister tipped off the flight attendant that this guy wasn't masked up. He put it on, but then since he was in front of me diagonally, I could see that he would let it dangle off his ear for long stretches of the flight. I double masked it. What a festering pile of bat guano this dude was. Like the bat guano that took over my aunt's house so long ago.

Okay, that's all I got. Take care, everyone. And reach out to those relatives you don't talk to enough. If you don't have kids of your own, reach out to those nieces and nephews. Or just make sure you keep a nice circle of friends as you get older. I would hate for any of you to let your circle shrink and shrink to the point where you're just pounding vodka all day and letting all your hobbies and interests sit in tons of Tupperware tubs for your relatives to have to sort through in an emotional weekend like the one I had. 

Just some random updates, some funny things and things that are going on with with Dr. Kenneth Noisewater . . .

1. Mrs. Noisewater, Erik Noisewater, and myself just got back from Pittsburgh. We like to visit cities that we feel might be misunderstood and/or underrated. Cleveland really surprised us not too long ago, and Pittsburgh is similar. I'm a big Cubs fan, so we caught a Pirates versus Cubs game at PNC Park. The view from our seats with the backdrop of the skyline was breathtaking. I bought myself one of those old school Pirates hats with the yellow stripes going around because I have always dug that look, perhaps more due to Rocky George from Suicidal Tendencies than because of Willie Stargell and the like.

That's Rocky on the far right, obviously

Willie wore it well too.

We also took Baby Noisewater to a children's museum with a Thomas the Train exhibit, and he just about lost his mind. We don't let him watch all that much television, but when you're you're stuck on an airplane or need to get some stuff done around the house, you got to put Thomas on for the kid. He only has a handful of toy Thomas trains, and one of them is a random white train that has magnets to connect to Thomas but does not seem to be officially affiliated with the franchise. I felt bad that he didn't have a name on his underbelly like the other guys, so I started calling him Steve. Now Baby Noisewater refers to him as "Steve" or "Big Steve," and it's hilarious. I keep telling him that it's bullshit that Big Steve is never featured on the cartoon show. Maybe we had best pen a letter to the network upon Steve's behalf to get him some damn air time. 

2. Sometimes when I come home late at night with too many beers in my belly and need to stay up drinking some water before heading to bed so I don't have a 3 day old man hangover I will watch a bunch of Youtube videos. Sometimes it will be a comedian I like and a million of his/her routines or talk show appearances. Sometimes it will be guitar solos from a band I like, especially when there is very limited footage of them and I have to do detective missions. And most recently it is two Black guys who are self-proclaimed hip hop fans with very limited knowledge of heavy metal music having live reactions to metal music for the first time. 

They blow me away because I have heard some of these songs a million times and don't even think of an observation that occurs to them the first time they hear it. They are very likable dudes, they listen to everything with an open mind, and they really seems to know about and appreciate all kinds of music. Below are a couple of good examples. I like the Megadeth one because the one guy says the song kicks like a porno with zero dialogue or foreplay, just smashing, and then he does a graphic sex noise with his hands. 

Then I like the Mercyful Fate one because of their reaction to King Diamond's high pitched otherworldly voice. It's not a sound you would expect someone to love the first time, so I like how they keep it real, admit it's weird and funny for them, but still give the song a chance.

3. So the other day Mrs. Noisewater are driving home from a BBQ, and I hear a not quite 2-year-old Erik Noisewater in the backseat saying "vagina, vagina, vagina" like 10 times in a row. I asked the Mrs, "Is he saying vagina?" She said that he came in while she was changing the other day and started pointing at her and asking questions. She thought it best to just tell him the real terms, but what we didn't know is that he would be obsessed with all the naughty parts. Every time I lay him down to change him, without fail, he says "wiener and butt," pointing to the correct places. Then one day I take my shirt off in front of him and he says "boobies." That was a blow to my confidence for sure. So anyway, he's in the backseat saying vagina 19 times, and then he says pizza around 12 times. I said to Mrs. Noisewater, "Vagina and pizza? He's planning one hell of a weekend back there." Mrs. Noisewater laughed and said that should go in the blog, so there it is.

Fare thee well, Blog Buddies. 

Me Too Dave

Mrs. Noisewater and I just got back from a trip to Ireland for a wedding. Her parents came all the way out from California to stay at our place in Chicago with Baby Noisewater while we were gone. We are so lucky to have family to do things like that for us, but truth be told, they cannot get enough of the little guy and were sad to go back. He is a charmer.

Baby Noisewater Cheerios Head

The 500th book Baby Noiseater made grandpa read to him.

We learned something right away on our travels, and that is this: Traveling without a kid is really damn easy. All we had to do was get ourselves on the plane on time. No strollers, no putting all kinds of baby stuff through security, no security opening our bags because formula looks like coke, and no chasing crawling baby around while waiting for the flight. We even had a few drinks. Why in the hell did I bitch about traveling back when I had no kids? Also, what in the hell did I do with all that free time before we made a baby? If you said blog a heck of a lot more, you wouldn't be wrong. I'm doing the best I can, my friends.

So it rains a lot in Ireland. Did you know that? I have been there twice now, and I think that I enjoyed about 30 minutes of sunshine. Total. I ran twice while out there this time, and I did document some beautiful blue skies while they came out so briefly, plus a fantastic rainbow. I don't think the photo truly does it justice. That was the happiest I was. Except for when I was laughing about the guy I would meet later that day . . .

And if you said I should have kept running towards it to find a pot of gold, you're not the only one.

Mrs. Noisewater, her friend McDonald, and myself went to The Little Museum of Dublin, which we thought was a bunch of miniatures on display. In reality, it is a small building with tiny rooms with various exhibits of human-sized items. Very quaint. On our way out a local told us that we should go around the corner to see the smallest bar in Ireland (and some claim the world's smallest bar). They aren't lying - It is a cramped, little bar, and there is no way it is a approved by any fire marshal worth his salt. You go down a narrow staircase into a shoebox of a tavern with extremely low ceilings. And with what can only be a cruel joke, a 6 foot 4 man tends bar, literally ducking his head under beams to pour the drinks. He had to have banged his noggin a few dozen times before conditioning himself to bow under each time he steps forward.

The moment we set foot in there, four men in ties swarmed Mrs. Noisewater. I asked one of them to take our picture, and the man who called himself Dave put his arm around her and said, "sure" . . . waiting for me to take a picture. He knew damn well that I didn't want a picture with his stupid ass in it.

I said, "No, sir. I mean can you take a picture of me, my wife, and my friend?"

"Oh this is your wife?" He replied. "Sure, all take your picture." But then as he was taking the shot, one of his other pervert friends jumped in front to photo bomb and flicked the bird.

Running along this bridge on either side was good fun. I should have took a picture of the bridge going across that looked like a giant harp.

If Mrs. Noiswater was at all flattered by the attention these business men were showing her, that quickly faded when she would see those boys stand at the bottom of the staircase pouncing on every female who set foot in there. These lads certainly fished with a big net. We sat and laughed with our pints as we watched Dave crash and burn with two lovely ladies. When they walked away to sit at a table, undeterred, he followed them there and joined them. They pretty much politely told him that they would rather he go away so that they could talk to one another about something, but he did not abandon ship just yet. Dave sat and waited for a moment to interject something and get back into the conversation, and when one of them talked about someone they know, perhaps one of their boyfriends, Dave blurted out loudly, "He sounds like a dick!" I laughed so hard that I nearly spit  Guiness all over that little place.

As funny as it was to watch, it also grew a little uncomfortable to watch these guys harass lady after lady. So we decided to leave. Later, McDonald and I were saying how anyone who came in contact with Dave and his merry band of perverts would instantly have one of those "#me too" stories that have been going around the internet. For this reason, we dubbed the man Me Too Dave, or #MeTooDave, if you prefer. Now, I don't at all intend to make light of anyone who has experienced harassment of any kind. It's truly an awful thing. But what we saw Dave doing was more along the lines of hitting on everything that moves and not taking no for an answer . . . Okay, fine. It was straight up harassment and pretty much wrong. But it was hard not to keep laughing any time one of us, during a quiet moment, would say Me Too Dave.

And with this last picture of an Irish sunrise, I wish you good day or goodnight.  

Doctor Kenny-o Euro Gigalo

Mrs Noisewater and I are headed to Dublin, Oslo, Bergen, and Stockholm in that order. I'm typing this blog post on my phone and just learned that the auto correct for Noisewater is nauseated. That is merely a sidebar.

I likely won't be updating until I return on the 11th. Who knows, I may be ambitious and keep my travel log on the ol' blog, but if you have been following me at all, then you know that I will do more boozing than writing.

In case this is the last you hear from me until my return, go ahead and leave a comment on another recent post and I will comment on them all when I get back.

Okay, blog buddies. Talk to you soon!

Jackson, Home of Two Oblivious Racists

Mrs. Noisewater just got back from a business trip in Jackson, Mississippi and encountered two of the most oblivious racist comments of all time.  She is half Asian, by the way, and apparently they don't often encounter races other than African American and Caucasian.  So you get these sorts of things . . .

#1

While at a restaurant, a man she didn't even know walked up to her table to ask her what other language besides English that she spoke.  When she replied that English was the only language she was fluent in, the man was shocked.  What a crazy assumption.  I would have responded "Klingon," and then spouted off some angry grunts.

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/sJhPa4lMLDo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
(I was searching for Klingon youtubes, and while there were plenty that made a lot more sense, I had to go with this one because of the pretty girl.  It takes all the way until 3:25 to get to the Klingon part, but good god. she is hot.  Anyway . . .)

#2

Then Mrs. Noisewater is at a meeting in Jackson, and on the way out she drops a pen.  When she bends down to get it a guy actually said, "Oh, I thought you were bowing."  I laughed my damn ass off when she told me that one.

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/yAHKqtsGZLU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
(Now, are these fellas bowing or looking for their pens?)

The Microwave

I was talking with a coworker the other day, and he told me about a woman he knew overseas (which I assumed meant when he was in the military) called The Microwave.  She was really attractive, always ready to do the deed, but nobody dared touch her.  At least not more than once because she had a burning case of venereal disease - and it was hotter in there than a microwave.

However, there was one guy who got with her three times knowing his pee-pee would hurt and he would have to go to the clinic and get shots.

Well, you know how the saying goes, right?

Burn me once, shame on you.  

Burn my wiener twice, shame on me.  And my wiener.

But burn me three times, and . . . God dang it, my thing burns!

"And for God's sakes, don't shag The Microwave again!"

I was relieved to finally get a cab after a long wait for one at the airport and a long trip out of town, but I was soon wishing I had taken the train when my cabby launched into religious conspiracy theories.  This guy had some read doozies, and his off-the-wall explanations took the entire thirty minute trip.  As best as I can remember, It was about like this . . .

Dr. Ken: Hey, do you want to take the I94?  I think Lake Shore will be backed up from Lollapalooza.

Crazy Cabbie: No, it should be fine.  Hey, you know Lollapalooza's contract with Chicago will be up in seven more years?

DK: I didn't realize that.

CC: Yes.  And that's the year when all three of the major religions will start to become one.

DK: Fantastic.  It's about time we all got along.  But why that exact year?

CC: It's simple.  The year 2020.  Two plus two is 4, just like the three major religions (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism) and the fourth is for mankind.

(At this point I attempted to change the subject with no success)

DK: You know, cabbie, when I got that gin and tonic on the plane, I didn't get my little plastic sword to stir with.  Don't you hate that?

CC: And I'll tell you another thing, Obama better watch out next year when he turns fifty three.  Want to know why?

DK: I guess so, but maybe you should tell him, and not your customers because some customers might think this is all a little . . .

CC: Because JFK was 35 when he was shot, and Obama will be 53; the reverse!

DK: Uh oh.  So someone is going to shoot him?

CC: Oh no.  Shooting was already done.  This one will probably be from someone poisoning his food.

DK: Hmmm.  He had better have those Secret Service boys tasting his sandwiches just to be safe.

CC: Yes!  He should!  And then the next U.S. leader will be a hot white chick.

DK: Wow.  I'm all for that.  But can't you make her a foxy Black chick?  I like those.

CC: No sir.  A white chick.  And she will be the temptress attempting to lure 80 world leaders with her lascivious ways away from the big three religions.

DK: Well, those hot chicks can be convincing.

CC: But she will fail!  And then there will be 48 hours of darkness, and then the earth will spin in the opposite direction with the sun rising in the west and setting in the east!

DK: Hmmm.  I would think a drastic change like that that would kill everyone.

CC: No, what will kill everyone is when Jesus returns and sends down a great meteor that will take everyone's life, and everyone will be judged to see if they go to the after life.  But first Jesus will be here with us for 40 years.

DK: Wow.  I can't wait to see how badly the press will be hounding him.  He won't get a moment's rest.  That's probably what will make him snap and call his dad for that meteor.

CC: Jesus' return will be amazing.  I just hope that I live to see it.

DK: Well, I'm sure you're a good Muslim, so you'll get there.

CC: Oh yes.  I have been fasting for weeks now.

DK: Does that mess with your brain, all that lack of nutrients.

CC: Oh no.  My head is as clear as ever, and after a while you get used to fasting.

DK: Okay.  Well, I know when I get a little hungry I start getting a little . . . nutty.  Just take care of yourself, cabby.  Pull over right here, if you could.  This is my place.

CC: Yes, sir.  Have a good evening, my friend.

DK: You too.  And maybe stop off for a snack.  Me, Allah, Jesus, and even the Hot White Chick won't judge you.  You need your strength, especially with all these cataclysmic events right around the corner.  Good night.

We should all be naked for Judgment Day.  After all, that's how we all came into the world.  

A Solid Trip

LSD* gave me a surprise birthday gift of tickets to a basketball game at the University of Illinois, so we took a train from Chicago to Champaign, Illinois yesterday.  The ride there was fine, the game was super because the Illini won, but then the trip home was a little interesting.  There was an older Black woman with her two grandsons sitting by us, and these two rapscallions ran up and down the aisles making noise for the duration of the journey.  When they were sitting down, they watched a loud movie on a computer with constant laser noises.  What was crazy is that there was another family with a couple of kids in the back of the train car who were actually more poorly behaved than the little fellas by us.   At one point one boy from each faction of boys had a high speed collision with one another in the aisle.  It was bound to happen.

The two kids by us were pretty cute, actually, and one was named Darnell.  I know his name because I heard grandma say it a lot when he was acting up.  She also made a lot of empty threats such as "Darnell, I wish you would get out of your seat again," and then she would do nothing when Darnell would stand up to go for another run.  One conductor gave them tickets as keepsakes so Darnell hugged him.  These little guys were really excited to be on a train, and they talked loudly the entire trip.   Whenever Darnell ran out of things to say, he would sing "Solid" by Ashford and Simpson.  I must really love kids because even though I was trying to sleep, I would laugh every single time he would launch into this 80's soul jam.



-------------------
*My girlfriend

Ahmet

Sorry for the absence, but I was in New York for a weekend.  On the way there, LSD and I were taking the shuttle to the other wing of the airport, and with us was a mother and her two children.  The younger one was being held by mom, while the older of the two, Ahmet, who looked to be around 4-years-old, was standing.  He seemed quite proud of his little kid luggage with the extendable handle.  Twice he fell down from the train motion, but what I dug about mom is that she didn't panic and micro manage the little guy.  Hence, Ahmet didn't panic.  Mom just said calmly, "Ahmet, just let go of the luggage and grab onto a pole," which he did.  

Then he looked up at me and said, "You think we'll get there soon?"  I said, "Won't be long, Ahmet" and LSD commented on how much she liked his luggage.  Then he matter-of-factly pointed out to us that there was a fire outside.  I figured he was confusing factory smoke for a fire, but sure enough, there was a blazing inferno off in the distance.  

Kind of strange that I don't tell you all about New York and how Will Ferrel was in the same trendy little Brooklyn bar as me.  Nope, you get to hear about Ahmet, my new little homie.  

Denver

I'm off to Denver tomorrow after work to spend the weekend with my lady who is flying out from L.A. where she's living for just one more year . . .

Anyone ever been to Denver?  We have no major plans outside of maybe some bike riding, a ballgame, some hiking, a brewery, some dinner, some wine, and catching up.

What's cool is that it's right in between us, so it's just a 2 hour flight for each of us.  If we end up liking it out there, we'll do it again same time next year . . .

The Cali Report

My lady (LSD) and I are back from our Cali trip where I accompanied her to a wedding and saw and fell in love with San Francisco for the first time. And I'm going to give you, my beloved seven readers, a full report. Now, don't worry - it won't be like a boring slide show. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I typically, although not always, succeed in making my stories funny, which is the mark of a good blogger. I just don't don't update enough to be really good anymore, which is what great bloggers do. However, I intend to do a decent job at this, so let me know how I did.

The beauty of doing things like this is that you get all the details down on "the page" to look at years later. Every once in a while when I leaf through some old entries, I will have completely forgotten about funny little moments, and I'm grateful that I have this rag for that reason.

Thursday:
We got into Oakland and the way I met LSD's parents was her father picking us up from the bus station. I liked him right away. He has a mustache, so he kind of looks like a cop but the good cop in the movie that you trust, not the crooked one. He also has a terrific sense of humor, like his daughter. Then we sat down to a dinner at their place, and I met mom, who I liked just as much as dad. I have been nervous in the past about meeting girlfriends' parents, but it's a helluva lot easier when I'm completely in love and 100% sure she's the right one for me.

Friday:
We got a nice early start to this day, but then we set ourselves back by royally screwing up the eggs we cooked and having to clean up the orange juice that I managed to spill inside of seemingly every kitchen cabinet, somehow. We then drove into San Francisco to check into the hotel before driving off to wine country.

The best thing about wine tastings is not the crappola lectures about grapes and shit, but more so I like getting to know these people and having some laughs, as many of them, you'll find, have terrific personalities. One small winery is owned and operated by a middle aged couple who look like the types who could also run "dopery" because they were just really laid back good folks, and the guy, while he was bright and witty, was a little deliberate in the way he carefully put his thoughts together into phrases. Somehow I sang a line from some random song, as I tend to do that sort of thing, and he told us how the two of them were just dancing to that song for their anniversary the night prior. They talked about it being an occasion ripe with wine flowing, dancing, and merriment. When I asked where they spent such an evening, they said that it was right where we were standing. Alone together in their very own winery, drinking their own blends, dancing to the sounds of their iPod.

After sobering up, we drove to Muir Woods because Dr. Ken had his heart set on seeing him some redwood trees. It was a long path through the woods, and we wanted to beat the traffic, so we decided to go back to the car to fetch our running gear to jog through it. This was a bad idea because there were wicked hills, giant red wood roots sticking out of the ground, the sun was beating down on us, and we got a little lost. One German guy with a giant back pack asked us if we knew where we were going, and I'll never forget the look of despair on his face when we told him we also had no idea where we were going.

But, we made it out of there alive to enjoy a great Italian meal in the North Beach area of San Francisco. We were going to hit some bars afterwards, but we were both tired from the Redwood adventure, so we returned to the hotel for some alone time. Why is it that "getting to know each other" in nice hotels is so damn awesome? We need to travel more because that's just a great deal of fun.

Saturday:
We knew that we had a rehearsal dinner in the late afternoon, so we packed in as much touristy stuff as we possibly could beforehand: cable cars, Bailey's and coffee at a bar called Buena Vista that invented the drink, some clam chowder, and Alcatraz. Overall, my impression of this city is that I've never been to a major city before that looks and feels so cozy and comfortable to me. All the buildings look like one of a kind, and there are so few Starbucks and Wallgreens on all the corners. You feel like you're living in a movie when you walk around that town, and it could be set now or twenty or thirty years ago.
The thing that I learned at Buena Vista is that they have plaques dedicated not to athletes who have nothing to do with anything, like say, Joe Montana, but to patrons who came to the bar every day for thirty years. The bartender told me this when I asked of the significance of a plaque on the wall that said a guy's name, a dry gin martini, and a range of years. That's what he drank and the years he did so, and it was hanging behind the bar on the corner in which he sat, along with the cane he would rest on the bar after ordering his martini before heading home, which he did every day up until he died at over 80 years of age. Another fellow who sat at the other end of the bar at a different time of day had just passed as well, and the bartender was in talks with the family to get his hat to put above a plaque over on his end of the bar. I don't know why, but I really liked that these guys were being honored in this way. Perhaps this appears as a random detail when you're talking about a trip like this, but not to me.

Saturday:
Just after waking up, I met the brother and his girlfriend, who are both great people. LSD had to do wedding stuff all day, so I spent the day with the family I had just met, which sounds strange but was totally fine. I went to the mall with the brother and girlfriend and watched the Giants game on TV with the dad, who rarely misses a game.

The reception was outdoors on a golf course with mountains behind it, which was beautiful, but it was just about the hottest day of the year. While it was a wonderful ceremony, getting to the indoor air conditioned reception and open bar was tremendous. LSD and I danced a few songs, had some shots cooled through a fire engine ice sculpture, and they had paid dudes out back to hand roll fresh cigars. I only smoke one or two cigars a year, but I really do like how it makes me feel more sophisticated and wealthy than I really am, if even just for a moment.

Around last call, I let LSD know that entering into what will soon be a long distance relationship, no longer scared me. It's just what we have to do, and we're going to do it right. I also told her that San Francisco will always be the city where we fell even deeper in love. I was thinking maybe we name a girl Bay some day, but maybe that's getting ahead of ourselves a touch. In the midst of this heartfelt discussion, one of the drunken groomsman came over to us to incoherently tell us some drunken philosophy. We politely told him that we were kind of having a moment, but that didn't really get rid of him. He was a lot like, and I hate to reference this show, but Joey from Friends: kind of stupid but lovable. So, we just had to laugh and not worry much about it because he kind of enhanced the moment in his own way, actually.

Sunday: Because this is getting long and nothing much happened on this day, I'll just take this time to say thanks for reading if you made it this far, and I hope you've enjoyed it.

Good night, seven readers. And goodbye San Fran. You'll see me again some day. Count on it.