08.22.04

A rainy Sunday. The natives are bubbling over with glee. Even Mater is chortling to herself.

HELP! It isn't enough that nine months of the year it's cool, grey, and rainy?! Gah! This is so not my town.

In my perambulations this afternoon, I saw two accidents. *sigh* How can (all together now) people who drive in the rain so much be so bad at it?

Got into a lovely conversation with the clerks at the local Tobacco Town about the incompetence of local drivers. No, I haven't started smoking again--I'll explain in a minute or less, depending on how quickly you read.

Both clerks are Oregon natives, though the woman had lived in Boston for a couple of years. She couldn't believe that Beantowners didn't use studded tires and snowchains. I said that I'd never used either before moving out west--and I only did because the cops made me. The guy was interested in only going fast. Dear whatever in whatever. These people are on the road with me.

HELP! Send whatever you can to get me the hell out of here!

Let me tell you about Tobacco Town. Oy vey. Amazing selection of tobacco and things to do with tobacco. Rolling papers of any size, shape, scent or description. Handrolling tobacco, imports, obscure American manufacturers, clove cigarettes (o' to be in high school and think that clove cigarettes are cool), lighters for miles--you name it, they've got it. The logo is a bizarre mix of hypo-patriotic red/white/blue and cheap, fly-by-night carnival. They sell beer, Mad Dog and lottery tickets. All they need are firearms, and it'd be the Perfect Store.

I went in to buy a friend a pack of tobacco. He's been generous, giving me my one cigarette a week, without giving me any crap. So yeah, no more smoking, except one hand-rolled cigarette a week. I owe, and I do my best to make good on debts. It may take a while, but it does happen.

After Tobacco Town, I went to the shops. Here's me in a nutshell; I bought a new sharpening stone and lingerie. The stone is great; diamond impregnated and perfect-sized for pocketknives. We carried the same brand when I ran a cutlery store back East. I'm going to have wonderful fun sharpening my pocketknives while watching Donnie Darko this afternoon. The knives are in a woeful state, not even managing paper very well anymore. Ugh! I can't stand a dull knife.

Of course, the lingerie. I'm hoping that I'll in Hato-kun's clutches soon. When I feel like that, only naughty lingerie shopping will do.

Have an author suggestion, if you're looking for something new: Sherman Alexie. Wonderful writer. Heartbreaking poet. Go! Read!

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