Gee, it’s good to be back home again. Sometimes this old town feels like a long-lost friend…

Welp, I’m back to my bar routines, including the Sunday feeding at Hideaway.

The girls surprised me because they all wanted a trinket (refrigerator magnet) over the snacks I brought as pasalubong. The most expensive item was a carton of strawberries, which was still there when bartender Rolan, the last to choose, made his selection. I guess I know what to buy next time. Anyway, they all got two items, so I didn’t have to carry anything home, at least.

Josh joined us a bit later, and he seemed to enjoy Mhel’s company and backrub, as demonstrated by his buying her multiple lady drinks. When the time came to move on, Josh joined for a nightcap at Sloppy Joe’s. He was back there this morning watching the super bowl and enjoying a cigar when I walked past.

My night ended with this:

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I had hugged a tree as I hiked the forest trail in Baguio on Saturday. I saw a Hasher had caught the moment on film camera and posted it on Facebook.

Someone also posted a YouTube video featuring highlights from the Hash. It’s kinda cool to see the trail in motion; give it a watch if you are so inclined.

Another Subic Hash run is coming up this afternoon; I hope it goes as well as it did on Saturday. Only one way to find out. I’ll let you know all about it tomorrow.

I decided to start the evening out on the town with my nephew Josh at John’s place. My reasoning was two-fold: it’s always best not to drink on an empty stomach, and I wanted to throw some support John’s way as he deals with his current medical emergency. So we both enjoyed some sandwiches, and I ordered some wings to go for the Hideaway girls. After dinner, I threw some cash into a jar on the counter to help with John’s medical bills.

Josh is also wanting to lose some weight, so he followed my lead and switched from beer to gin and soda water. I carefully explained my methodology: one shot of gin on the rocks in a tall glass with a can of soda water on the side. After filling the glass with soda, you enjoy a couple of sips, then replenish the glass with more soda. In this way, the initial shot of gin is watered down and weakened, making it easier to drink more and get drunk less. When it came time to order our second round of drinks, Josh didn’t order more soda because his can was still half full. So much for taking advice from your uncle.

Despite being Wednesday, one of my regular feeding days, I hadn’t initially planned to visit Hideaway. As I explained to Joy in a text message, her birthday feeding was it for this week. She seemed disappointed and said there were no customers, so no drink commissions. Since I was at John’s, which is practically right across the highway from Hideaway, I decided to make a surprise visit.

Josh seemed to be enjoying himself as well; one of the other girls latched on to him and enjoyed his generosity in the form of lady drinks. I noted that Josh was ordering his gin straight up with no soda at all. I wouldn’t last an hour if I drank them that way.

The next stop on our barhop was Cheap Charlies. When we first arrived, it wasn’t busy, and we got my preferred seats up front with the highway view. Narissa came and took our drink orders, served them, then walked away as if we had never met. My other regulars were not working or otherwise occupied. I don’t understand the logic of showing disdain for a customer known for his largesse with lady drinks when it is your job to entertain him and earn commissions from the drinks he buys you. Oh, well. I don’t need the company of someone who doesn’t want to be there (and can’t hide that fact) anyway. I did notice that Josh caught the eye of some lass, and she came over to join him and make a little money.

Next up was Wet Spot. That’s where things started getting a little fuzzy for me. Even with my watered-down version of gin, it hits me harder than beer does. Worse, it kinda sneaks up on me–one minute, I’m fine, and the next, oops! Anyway, I checked my phone this morning, and I had taken some photos that helped me remember how I spent some of my time there.

The last photo I took was of how things were looking to me as I headed home from Wet Spot:

The day began better than it ended with a nice hike and climb to the top of Black Rock. I was honestly a little worried about Josh’s ability to do the moderately difficult trek on his still-recovering leg, but he was game to try, so off we went.

Korean culture is really not all that prevalent here, although quite a few Korean tourists (almost always men for some reason) visit the area. Still, I see signs like this one at the 7/11, so I guess Filipinos enjoy a taste now and then.

So, that was the day. I’m heading to Baguio for the weekend tomorrow morning. Going to Hash there with the La Union kennel on Saturday. Tonight I’ll show Josh some more of the bar scene here, although I’m going to need to be more moderate in my consumption. Wish me luck!

Joy from Hideaway bar celebrated twenty-five years of life on Earth yesterday. Since I’m the resident feeder, I was tasked with providing the vittles for the party. I asked the birthday girl what she wanted to eat, and she said, “Jollibee.” The specific items requested were fried chicken, spaghetti, hamburger steaks, and tuna pies. I, of course, accommodated her birthday wishes.

Caught up in the spirit of the celebration, I rang the bell, an act that bestows a lady drink for all the girls. Josh was there too and bought drinks for the two girls rubbing on his back. It was a fun party, and I’m sure it was the best birthday Joy has had this year.

The MJ versus Joy thing and Josh visiting reminded me of something I hadn’t really thought about for years. Josh calls me by my middle name, Mark, and is one of the few people left on this planet who do so (his father, my brother, is another of them). When I was born, my dad wanted to name me John, and my mom preferred Mark. So, I became John Mark. Growing up, my dad called me John, and my mom and brothers called me Mark. At school, I was John. The kids I knew from the neighborhood called me Mark. I guess I’m lucky I didn’t experience schizophrenia as a result. However, my John persona was the more serious version of me, while Mark was the party guy pothead. Over time as I grew up and moved around the country, people all called me by my work name John, and that is who I have become. Having Josh call me Mark is still a bit surprising to hear, but it brings back fun memories.

After we departed the party at Hideaway, I took Josh up to the rooftop at BarCelona.

I also took Josh to Wet Spot so he could get a taste of what a bar with dancers was all about. The young cutie Mevelyn was looking especially enticing in her braless midriff top. I can’t remember if I bought her a drink or not. Yeah, it was a bit past my limit at this point.

I finished my evening with a nightcap at Johansson’s, where Josh is lodging. I went home, but my friend Reggie was there, and she messaged me this morning that Josh kept her up late with drinks and pool games. Yep, definitely kinfolk.

Facebook memories took me back to this day in 2017:

And in other health news, John, the restauranteur/foodie, has been hospitalized. Here’s the disturbing post from his Facebook page:

Good luck, John. Hope they can cure what ails you soon.

In a story with a happy ending, here’s the dog I always saw tied to the end of a short leash with no food or water on this date in 2019:

And here he is today:

I was pretty surprised when Gen sent me this picture of her pussy:

Had a good hike up Black Rock with the Wednesday Walkers this morning–I’ll post about that tomorrow. Gonna take Josh out for some barhopping this evening and show him the ropes. For as long as I last, anyway.

Thursday’s highlight was a visit from Joy, then sharing dinner with her at one of the new samgyeopsal houses here in Barretto.

I’d rate the food overall as mediocre. I know I’m spoiled by all those years in Korea, but how can you not get samgyeopsal right? None of the three types was more than paper-thin; whether that was why it was almost tasteless, I can’t say. The sides were nothing special either, and the kimchi sucked. I enjoyed being in Joy’s company for the meal but not much else. Oh, and I knew the restaurant wouldn’t have gin, but the only beer they had was San Miguel Pilsner. I wasn’t going to break my diet for a beer I don’t even like. I had water with my meal.

Joy went home after dinner, and I hit the bars, starting with It Doesn’t Matter. Fellow Hasher Jim showed up a bit later, and I had company at the bar I didn’t have to pay for. We did a bit of a bar crawl, hitting BarCelona next. I don’t frequently visit there, but they all knew Jim by name. The bartender had a hot body and a friendly personality. Good combination!

Next up was Sloppy Joe’s. I’m liking this bar more and more. It’s got the outside seating I like and good service. It seems to be getting very popular too. We had a couple of drinks here, then Jim headed home. I went next door to Alaska for my nightcap and hoped to see Virginia. Alas, she hadn’t shown up for work again. Oh, well. Her loss. I’ll use the money I saved on lady drinks to pay my entrance fee for tonight’s SOB.

I did a solo morning walk on the neighborhood streets on Matain and through the Santa Monica subdivision.

I played around with that ChatGPT thing for a few minutes. I asked it who I am and it said I’m a nobody:

I’m sorry, but without additional context, I cannot determine who John Mark McCrarey is. It is possible that John Mark McCrarey is an individual who is not widely known or someone who uses a pseudonym.

I guess that may be true, but what about my blog?

I’m sorry, but I don’t have information on a specific blog named “Long Time Gone”. It is possible that the blog is a personal blog or a niche blog with a limited audience, and therefore may not have information readily available online. To find out more about the blog, you may try searching for it on the internet or contacting the author or administrator of the blog directly.

Oh, well. I’ll keep trying to make something of myself someday.

I paid a rare visit to the popular Filipino fast-food chain Jollibee yesterday.

Anyway, the purpose of the visit was not for me to eat; instead, I was doing something a little different for the Hideaway girls feeding. The local franchise is just across the river in Santo Tomas. As I was walking en route, I saw “mama” and invited her along for some Jollibee goodness.

The usual good time was had at Hideaway, including some free drinks for yours truly. I also got to control the music and played some of my favorite classic rock songs from the 70s.

I had heard from Virginia, one of the Alaska dancers, earlier in the afternoon. I was touched that she was thinking of me (and even remembered my name!), so I asked if she would be working later. She said yes and asked why, and I responded that I would come by to see her there. I moderated my alcohol intake at Hideaway to ensure I could navigate the highway walk/crossing and enjoy my time in Alaska with this cutie’s company. Alas, when I arrived, I saw Virginia wasn’t on stage with the other dancers. When I asked the waitress about her whereabouts, she just shrugged and said she didn’t come to work. I messaged Virginia asking what happened, and she told me she wasn’t feeling well. Hmm, well, thanks for letting me know; I made a special trip here for you. She did message me this morning and apologized again.

Another female friend (non-bargirl) was there for a pool tournament. She was seated at the next table, so I greeted her and wished her good luck. She thanked me, and as I was preparing to offer her a beer, but she turned her back to me and didn’t say another word. Talk about a cold shoulder!

So, I left Alaska after one drink and went next door to Sloppy Joe’s for my nightcap, then caught a trike home feeling a little melancholy.

I did almost 11K on my Sunday morning solo walk. I took the backstreets to Subic town so I could raid the ATM (those lady drinks don’t pay for themselves!). Along the way, I dropped off 1000 pesos so an acquaintance could have a birthday celebration for her daughter.

Nothing all that interesting along the way, but I did see the wealthiest man in Subic:

Here’s what my hike looked like from above:

You can Relive the experience and see some more photos if you are so inclined:

Up and at ’em again this morning. Did a beach walk to Baloy:

And now it is Hash Monday once again. The trail starts on Rizal Extension, so I reckon I’ll once again chance walking the My Bitch trail alone to get there.

I will be back tomorrow with a full report. Hopefully.

I opted not to attend the SOB dance competition as originally planned. I arrived at Cheap Charlies a little after 4 p.m. to await the arrival of “doors open at 5 p.m.” at Hot Zone, which is right across the highway from CC. I was somewhat surprised to see folks begin entering early, and by 4:30, that trickle had become a stream. Hot Zone is one of the smaller venues in the contest, so that didn’t bode well for me securing a preferred seat.

When it did come time for me to leave, I told Narissa I wanted to bill out. She got up and whispered something to one of the other girls, and they were laughing when she walked away. I asked what was up, and they said, “she couldn’t remember your name.” Ouch! But it was certainly a good indication of her interest level in me.

Narissa brought my change; I gave the girls all a 50 peso tip and headed to Hot Zone, arriving right at the scheduled 5:00 opening. Before I paid the entry fee, I took a look inside. As I feared, the place was already packed. There were still seats available, but I didn’t like the sardine can vibe. I’d also heard that a large group was coming in from Angeles for the show, and I reasoned that if I stayed, I might prevent an out-of-town guest from enjoying the contest. I’ll be around next week, so no big deal.

So, I was free on a Friday night, now what? I decided to treat myself to a meal at John’s place. He had posters up advertising a New Zealand ribeye promo for 695 pesos. Since I had just saved 700 pesos by bailing on the SOB, I took it as a sign of my dinner destiny.

And I was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Jo and her husband, Chris, arrived for dinner shortly after I did. We had a nice chat and some laughs while waiting on our food to be served. The Hideaway bar is practically right across the road from John’s, and while I was dining, Joy messaged that they had no customers. I told her to be patient as it was still early. She responded that she needed to earn some lady drink commissions so she could pay her electric bill. I suggested that she pray and ask God to send some business her way.

Naturally, when I finished my meal, I paid a visit to Hideaway, announcing as I entered, “God sent me.” And because I was on a mission from God, it was only fitting to treat all the girls to a drink. And so the party was on.

It wasn’t a feeding night, but the girls said they were hungry, so I sent one out for some roast chicken.

So, since I was the only customer and the girls were still talking about that country swing dancing we did during my last visit, I played all my old country favorites, singing right out loud and eventually giving a couple of them a twirl on our improvised dance floor. Good times! When it was time for me to go, I paid my hefty tab and tipped Joy enough to cover the month’s electric bill. I’m either a generous mother fucker or a sucker. Maybe a little of both.

The Friday walk was an 8k street trek. My lungs weren’t feeling up to a climb, so we took a Jeepney out to Waltermart in Subic town, then hiked the backroads home to Barretto.

Anyway, I decided to check in with my new best friend, ChatGPT, and get its opinion on whether or not I might have a drinking problem:

It depends on the quantity and frequency of your drinking, as well as the impact it has on your daily life. Consuming alcohol in moderation is generally considered safe for adults, but excessive or binge drinking can lead to a wide range of negative health consequences and can be a sign of an alcohol use disorder. If you are concerned about your drinking habits, it is important to speak with a healthcare professional or a licensed therapist.

Well, okay then. I’ll take that as a no. I consider it excessive when I wake up fully dressed, and that is very rare. Binge drinking? Hell, I take one shot of gin in a tall glass with a whole can of soda water and sip it. That’s pretty much the opposite of binging. Now, I know guys who start drinking a nine in the morning, and I never want to be like that. One of the reasons I quit the dart league was that I thought drinking at two in the afternoon was too early to imbibe. I do drink during my small window (usually five until eight or so) every day, but I don’t NEED to; I just want to until or unless something comes along that I enjoy more. I think the fact that I’m monitoring my consumption shows I’m in control. And I did give up beer in the interest of my health. As of now, I feel I’ve got it covered.

Time to prepare again for my nightly retirement party. Thanks for stopping by!

I got to thinking about my long-deceased father while sitting in the bar, assuaging my thirst for alcoholic beverages. Some of my earliest memories are of him taking me along when he visited the local beer joints. I guess they weren’t enforcing the “no minors” rules back then. I’d sit at a table sipping a Coke, and he’d be at the bar with a beer engaging the bartender and other customers with his wit and witticisms. Much like I do with the bargirls now. Speaking of which, after my father passed, I was going through some boxes of photographs, and I came across one of him in middle age on Texas Street in Busan, surrounded by thirsty bargirls. He was a merchant seaman, and Busan was just another port of call along the way. I wish I could ask him about his trips to the Philippines. Maybe I have brothers and sisters here. Oh shit. I just had a scary thought. Never mind, I don’t want to know.

Anyhoo, the bar culture is something that has become ingrained in me over the years. I don’t see a problem with that, provided you maintain some self-control and not be a drunken asshole. At least in the bars I frequent, everyone seems to get along, and we all enjoy a pleasant atmosphere. I didn’t really become a barfly until I moved to Korea and started living the Itaewon lifestyle. Met some good people back in those days, and I have no regrets then or now. It’s not the life for everyone, but it seems to work for me. Besides, what else am I going to do? I rarely even turn on my TV these days.

My journey to Cheap Charlies was much more pleasant last evening.

I had an amazing conversation with one of the new hires at Cheap Charlies, a waitress named Narissa. Chat with most bargirls is pretty much what you might expect: surface-level mundane banter on trivial subjects, with occasional jokes or sexual innuendo tossed in. Not so with Narissa. She surprised me by asking questions about American politics and politicians (is Trump really a jerk?), famous people she likes (Bon Jovi), and whether I’ve met them (who was the most interesting celebrity you’ve met?) and specific places (Have you been to Universal City in Florida?). I did ask if she likes hiking and she told me she prefers museums and zoos with rare animals. Anyway, it was refreshing to have a “real” conversation in the bar.

But I wasn’t quite finished yet. I needed to use an SOB “buy one, get one” coupon, so I made Whiskey Girl my next stop.

I went home shortly thereafter with a smile on my face. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30.

And I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to start another day.

And the morning view from my back patio:

Life is good, or at least good enough.

Speaking of which, I was on my way to It Doesn’t Matter yesterday and passed a woman I know walking with her kids. She wished me a happy birthday. I told her it was not my birthday, and she asked, then why are you wearing a red shirt? I responded because it was clean and hanging in my closet and went well with the color of my shorts. She told me people usually wear red when celebrating their birthdays. Then when I arrived at IDM, I got the same treatment from the waitresses–what’s the occasion? It was all good-natured, of course, but damn, I like my red shirts (I have a couple), and I intend to wear them whenever I please. And from now on, if someone asks me if it is my birthday, I’ll respond with, “yes, it is; where is my present?”

The fact is, I was attending a birthday celebration for Heidi at Snackbar later in the evening, so I thought it was perfectly appropriate to wear red.

I had had a few gin and sodas before I arrived at Snackbar and a few more after I arrived. So, I was even more generous than usual with the lady drinks. Plenty for the birthday girl, of course, and also my new favorite Jenn (Lydell has pretty much ghosted me) and a couple of others.

I had a drunken good time and spent around 3000 pesos ($60) to pay for all that liquid fun. Fortunately, there is a trike stand right next door, so getting home was a breeze. I even made it by my bedtime. Some of the other guests at the party mocked me for being such an early bird, but hey, it works for me. I don’t want to be one of those fools who doesn’t know when to say when and winds up doing something stupid. Or worse.

Earlier in the day, I had done my standard Saturday street walk in Barretto.

Since this is a weekly jaunt, there was nothing much new to catch my eye, so I only took a couple of photos.

At Sit-n-Bull, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and brought it home with me (yes, I took a trike). In deference to my diet, I took the meat off the bun and gave the bread to my helper. I poured my coleslaw side on top of the pork and chowed down. So, it wasn’t technically a sandwich, but it was masarap (that’s Tagalog for delicious; I just wanted to impress you all with my dozen-word vocabulary).

And about that diet–today was my weekly weigh-in, and here are the results:

This week I’m at 221.4 pounds, a reduction of 3.9 pounds since January 1 and minus 3.3 from last week. Slow progress, but at least I’m moving in the right direction. 195 is still a LONG way to go, though. I miss the ice cream more than the beer, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I have the Sunday feeding at Hideaway on tap for later, and I also promised one of the Alaska girls I’d drop in to say hi tonight. Yeah, it’s a tough life, but somebody has to do it.

Back with more tomorrow.

I can’t wait to become less impatient.

A nice 6K hike with the Friday group to start my day. I’m going to be a Hare for the Hash on February 6, and this will work for the short trail:

I’ll add the photos from our journey at the end of this post.

Friday night is the SOB dance contest, and Whiskey Girl bar was the host this week. I got there early to secure a front-row seat for my viewing pleasure. And also because I’m a judge. The dancers are really stepping up their game and seem to have developed a competitive spirit. Good to see them having fun while entertaining us.

Last week’s champion, Voodoo, took third place:

Alaska is always a contender, and this week took second place.

And for the first time ever, Whiskey Girl took the crown, or banner as it were.

Here is the Whiskey Girl performance on video if you want to watch the action:

And as an added bonus, here’s my friend Irish from Queen Victoria bar:

I did, in fact, go to Queen Vic after the SOB, but I’d had too much to drink already, so just bought Irish and Susan one drink each and got my sorry ass home before I did something I might regret.

So, let’s take a hike, shall we?

Another good day. I have a lot to be thankful for.

UPDATE: Facebook reminds me that it was 18 years ago today that I made the life-changing move to Korea. Nothing has ever been the same since, and without Korea, I wouldn’t have found my way to the Philippines. There is much that I regret in my life, but leaving the USA and discovering a whole new world was the right move for me. Who knows what would have happened in wife #3 kept her promise to join me in Korea? Or if wife #4 kept her vow to love me until death do us part? But this is the life I have found, and this is the life I will live. For better or worse.

…but let’s ketchup!

Anyway, yesterday was pretty much a cluster fuck. The power went out around 8:30 a.m., and I was hoping it would just be one of those short one-hour outages that occur occasionally. So, I headed out for my regular Thursday solo walk, and the power was still out when I returned home two hours later. And then I found out it was a “scheduled brownout” and would last until 4 p.m. Damn it. I have no water without power, so I can’t even take a cold shower. No electricity means no internet and no ability to charge my phone and laptop. Almost like being poor, except my cupboards weren’t bare.

My new phone’s wifi hotspot wouldn’t connect to the internet. I just got my old phone back from the repair shop, so me and the helper struggled to take the sim card from the new one and reinsert it into the old one. That took longer than it should have (it was like fitting the pieces into a jigsaw puzzle). The old phone did connect me to the internet but at an incredibly slow speed. Uploading the photos for yesterday’s post was at an excruciating crawl, and my laptop was running out of juice, so I finally just gave up and posted what I had. So, here’s the rest of the story.

I had a dandy trek with the Wednesday Walkers. In the interest of brevity, I’ll just share the Relive video of the hike:

My nighttime activity was limited to one stop–Hideaway Bar. I rarely spend an entire evening without a change of scenery, but Wednesday was the exception to the rule. I guess the reason why is that there was a good vibe happening. Only one other customer that I recall, and I had control of the music machine so I could play songs that fit my mood (feeling sad as I remembered the anniversary of my mother’s passing). Joy was also providing some comfort, and someone kept buying me drinks. Everything just came together for a one bar night.

I splurged on tasty treats from John’s place for the bi-weekly feeding of the girls.

I drank away my blues and made it home safe and sound. Success!

In addition to having no power yesterday, I received three pleadings for assistance to resolve financial emergencies. My friend in Bohol required 3500 pesos to pay for her business license renewal (she runs a little eatery). I deemed that request worthy and managed to wire her the money despite my glacially slow internet. Another person I’ve been acquainted with since moving here needed 2500 pesos to obtain the required health certifications to begin work at a new restaurant in Olongapo. I agreed to provide the requested assistance and gave her the cash prior to this morning’s hike. The third request came from my favorite at Alaska Club and was the strangest I’ve ever had and also for the smallest amount–300 pesos. I’ll call her Pam for the purposes of this post.

I’m looking forward to getting the details next time I see her in person, but a female friend of Pam’s had asked that Pam accompany her on a visit to Bataan. Pam told her she didn’t have the funds to make the journey, and her friend agreed to cover the expenses. Yesterday morning, Pam awoke to discover her friend had abandoned her without a word. So, there she was, a stranger in a strange land with no money in her pocket to get back home. She sent me a message pleading for help, and there was no question I would provide it (the equivalent of six bucks for chrissakes). I just didn’t know how to get it to her. I usually do wire transfers, but Pam said there were no pick-up outlets where she was located. She asked me to send it via GCash, which is a big deal here in the Philippines–a mobile wallet–that I’ve never used and know nothing about. I asked my helper if she had a GCash account, and she did not. Pam advised the funds could be sent to her account from a 7/11 store, so I sent my helper out on a mercy mission. I’m happy to report that Pam made it home safely, and I will hopefully see her at tonight’s SOB. Oh, and I hope Pam’s “friend” keeps her distance so as to avoid being murdered–Pam was livid when we chatted.

In other news, either I’m famous, outed, or maybe both. My friend Kevin has been looking at his blog stats and noted that he had over 7,000 visitors one day. My little diary of a blog gets 250 hits on a good day, and I’m of two minds about that. I mean, I feel an obligation to post something every day for the loyal few who follow me here, and I’m always wowed by the feedback I sometimes receive in the comments. So, increasing regular readers would be a good thing, I suppose, in a “the more, the merrier” kind of way. On the other hand, there is a certain freedom that comes with anonymity. It may sometimes appear that I write as if no one is reading, and sometimes it does feel that way. So, I’m always surprised when I encounter an LTG reader in person, especially here in my little town. A reminder that I’m not as anonymous as I choose to believe. And then, yesterday, someone (one of my readers) sent me a link to this post on Facebook:

Now, there was a time I would post links to my blog on Facebook, but I stopped doing so several years ago. I post things here about my life that I wouldn’t dream of doing on Facebook. Even so, I’ve gotten negative feedback from family members saying my lifestyle here in the Philippines is inappropriate reading for my grandchildren, who are now old enough to Google my name and discover their perverted grandfather. Well, I guess I can always serve as a bad example. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disconcerting to know my local community may be reading my rantings and ravings. That won’t stop me from writing the truths as I see them, but I will strive not to invade the privacy of the people I know. So, as I go forward, I’ll be changing the names of people like “Pam” and may alter some details without changing the factual basis as necessary in future posts.

Back in the real world, at 4:30, I gave up on power restoration, sprayed on some extra cologne, and went out unbathed last evening.

I assuaged my hunger by ordering a plate of honey barbeque chicken wings from Foodies, the restaurant downstairs from Cheap Charlies.

The wings were good; the drinks were cold, and the company was thirsty. Everyone was happy!

Later, I dashed across the highway and had a couple more at Wet Spot. Then headed home, where I was relieved to see that the power had been restored but distraught when I discovered that the water pump was not functioning. Nothing to be done about it in my drunken condition, so I went to bed. This morning before the hike, I gave my helper some money to have someone repair it. When I returned from the hike, I once again had running water. The helper told me she had remembered how to reset the pump. I’m lucky to have her! (I hope she doesn’t read that and ask for a raise!)

And that should just about cats u up. I’ll be back tomorrow with more!