So, the decision has been made. I’ll be leaving Casa Rosenda when my lease expires in June. The landlord called today to advise that the rent would indeed be raised by 10%. His justification was that needed repairs would cost $2000, therefore higher rent was necessary. I told him I would be moving out then.

The stupidity of this situation is mind-boggling. They are going to spend two grand on repairs I never asked for. That’s fine, they should maintain their property as they deem necessary. They want to charge me an extra $100. a month to pay for the repairs and I’m not willing to do so, seeing as how I’m already overpaying for this house. When I move out I’ll be taking the appliances I purchased, including three aircon units upstairs, with me. So, they’ll need to buy replacements for those, along with a stove and refrigerator. That’s another chunk of cash they’ll be spending upfront. Had I renewed my lease in June, I’d be writing them a check for $11,000–a year’s rent. That was a sure thing for them, but they’ve chosen this path instead.

Landlord says the next tenant will pay $1000. a month (versus the $900. I currently pay). Good luck finding a sucker who will pay that for this old place. Hell, it sat vacant for YEARS before I foolishly came along and overpaid. There’s a pandemic and lockdown now, so folks are not able to move here from out of the country. It’s likely only a foreigner would be able to afford that kind of rent, and most people in a position to do so would be more likely to purchase their own place. The landlord’s family owns several other places here in the neighborhood that have been sitting vacant for the three years I’ve lived here. Good luck finding a renter to replace me. In the unlikely event it only takes a month, they won’t recoup what they lost when I moved out for six months. I expect it will be much longer than that before a replacement renter is found. Good luck with that. I’ll be up the street keeping an eye on how long this house is vacant and laughing every time I walk by.

Up the street? Yes, I’m moving into that downstairs apartment I mentioned previously. It’s not ideal, but it will do. And it is $300. a month cheaper than this house. I went and had a look yesterday. It’s only a couple of years old, has two large bedrooms with full baths, and another half bath off the entrance. The kitchen is larger and more modern than my current place, has actual cabinets, and a pantry! That’s probably what I like best about the apartment. I was surprised that it even has a nice view, from the balcony anyway. There’s also a maid’s quarters downstairs and some space for the dogs to hang out. The biggest drawback is having upstairs neighbors, but I’ll deal with it as necessary. Perhaps we will all just get along.

So, that’s my big news. Stand by to see what the future holds. In the meantime, we can take a look back into the past courtesy of Facebook memories.

And neither did the marriage. Jee Yeun left this on my Facebook page ten years ago:

I love you baby!!! So happy about you were always next me and take very good care of me!!!! My baby…Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm….

Oh, well. Everything changes, but life goes on.

You should never argue with a crazy mind
You oughta know by now
You can pay Uncle Sam with the overtime
Is that all you get for your money?

And if that’s what you have in mind
Yeah, if that’s what you’re all about
Good luck, moving up, ’cause I’m movin’ out

I’m movin’ out

I was thinking in the wee hours of the morning about how the body and mind adapt to the rhythms (or ruts) that make up our daily life. I guess it’s no big epiphany, but for a retired guy with no place to be and no one to answer to, I pretty much reliably adhere to a set schedule. It goes something like this:

0430ish–wake up, let the dogs out, have coffee, catch up on current events through the magic of the internet.

0615–feed the dogs

0645–take my meds, log my blood pressure and vitals, get dressed

0700–take the dogs for a 30-minute walk.

0730–breakfast, either at home or out

0830–morning walk, usually for 1.5 hours. Monday/Wednesday/Friday are group hikes, so the schedule varies. Tuesday is shopping day, so I take the day off from walking.

1100–daily one hour nap

1230–afternoon walk (/Thursday/Saturday/Sunday) usually one hour.

1400–I spend an hour or so with my faithful readers here at LTG.

1630–Head out for my daily dose of beers. Tuesday/Wednesday/Friday/Saturday I’ll throw some darts into the mix.

2000–Rarely get back home later than this. Will come home earlier if I don’t eat out. Usually have a smoothie and a little internet.

2100–I’m almost always in bed by nine o’clock these days.

0130–It is weird that every night I wake up about the same time with congestion, cottonmouth (I breathe through my mouth because of the congestion), and the need to pee. It usually takes an hour or more of processing random thoughts or suppressing memories before I can get back to sleep.

And that’s pretty much my life. And no, I’m not complaining. It beats the hell out of the alternative!

Yesterday afternoon I played the final singles league match of the season against Espie. I literally saved the best for last I guess, winning 13-3 and throwing quality darts consistently throughout the match.

So this is how the singles league finished up:

Anyway, it was a good inaugural season, and we still have the finals tournament to complete. The top three (Cristy, me, and Espie) will play head-to-head to determine the champion. Stay tuned!

After my darts match, I headed out to Cheap Charlies to spread some dollars cheer. Bargirls need love money too. Had some beers, bought some lady drinks, and watched the sun go down.

That seemed to be a signal to get my ass home as well.

I had some work to do in the kitchen; resurrecting the ribs I had cooked the night before that got preempted by the Korean chicken wings.

Bowl of rocky road ice cream for dessert, then off to bed a bit before 9:00 p.m., just like clockwork. When I woke up at 1:30 in the morning, writing this post was one of the many thoughts that were churning in my head and keeping me tossing and turning until well after 3:00. Oh well, it’s not like I had anything better to do with my time.

And now it is time to head out to Alley Cats for the Friday night dart tournament. Then we will see what happens after that, maybe some Mango’s pork chops are in my future.

I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow!

I guess I’ll decide sooner or later. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Did my weekly grocery shopping and once again dealt with the frustration of the out-of-stock syndrome that seems so prevalent here. Doubly so, because I went to two different supermarkets in search of some essentials without success. You know, I get that certain imports, like frozen food, may be tough to get these days because of shipping issues. But damn, to be out of canned dog food for two freaking weeks? I bought some at the local veterinarian for 150 pesos a can ($3) because my boys have to eat, but damn. Alright, rant over.

Small turnout for darts last night. With only seven players we did a singles tournament. That suits me fine. I made it to the finals undefeated. Nancy, who I had beaten earlier, was my opponent. You know, I play for fun and I’d had a few beers which drowned whatever competitive juices that may have been flowing (yeah, that’s a convoluted metaphor, isn’t it?). First-place money was 400 pesos and second place was 200 pesos. Nancy would have to beat me twice (win two best-of-three matches) to take first. I offered her a deal where we call it a tie and split the money (300 pesos each). She accepted my offer. That’s a win-win for everyone, right?

Speaking of spoils, the fish and chips place here in town posted on their Facebook page that they had made up a batch of pumpkin tarts, get ’em while supplies last. I sent a message asking if any were still available and they said they still had five left. I hoofed on over and bought myself two to go. They were 70 pesos each, which seemed a bit pricey, but damn, how often do you get anything close to a pumpkin pie in these parts?

It was a nice bedtime treat and a worthy reward for my outstanding darts.

Woke up this morning to this pleasant view:

There are some stray dogs that roam the neighborhood. I’ve seen other people’s trashcans raided, but this was a first for me. Shit happens I guess.

Speaking of the neighborhood, that’s my dilemma–should I stay or should I go? I spoke to the landlord and he wants to increase my rent by 5%, or about $45 a month. He says there hasn’t been an increase in three years. I pointed out that I’ve done all the repairs and maintenance here out of my own pocket and I didn’t think a rent increase was justified. He said the increase in necessary and to let him know next month what I decide.

So, I really like living in Alta Vista. I enjoy the views and the convenience of living here (except when the dogs attack my trash). It is quiet–no roosters, traffic noise, or loud videoke singing, all of which are pretty standard in most neighborhoods. My rent is currently $900. a month. When people hear that, they think I’m crazy for overpaying so much. Well, I can afford it, and truthfully, the increase is the equivalent of what I spend some nights in the bar. But I also don’t like being taken advantage of, and after three years of being a loyal tenant, this increase feels like a slap in the face.

I’ve been looking around some to see what alternatives might be available. There is one place for rent here in the neighborhood for 30,000 ($600), but there are some potential issues with the folks who live upstairs. I’ll save that story for another day. And now I’ve learned of another house that is available on the other side of town that seems to be a viable possibility. I’ve not personally been inside yet, but it is next door to a house of a fellow Hasher and has the same floor plan as his, so I’m at least familiar with the layout.

Not sure why they didn’t send any kitchen shots. I’m going to try and see the place tomorrow.

So, the negatives for me so far are that it only has two bedrooms and is unfurnished. I’ve got a bed and a desk, I’d have to buy everything else. On the other hand, I don’t really use all the space I have now. And the rent is only 20,000 pesos ($400.) a month, less than half of what I’m currently paying.

It’s a pain in the ass to move and I’d really rather not have to, but damn, how can I justify staying here and getting fucked in the ass? I’ll see how I feel after checking the place out personally.

Otherwise, life goes on in its usual fashion. I take each day as it comes and make the best of it. And I’m happy to report that I am not living in fear.

And as long as I’m in the mode of being obnoxious, how about this Hunter finding a gal and grabbing her by the Harris:

The highlight of my yesterday was a 10K hike from the Waltermart in Subic town back to Barretto on the highways and byways and backroads between there and here. I’ve got the pictures to prove it which I’ll get to in a minute.

The other thing that happened is I met the owners of the newest bar in town. Actually, it’s an old bar known to most as T-Rose. T-Rose closed several months ago and a new bar opened in that location called McCoy’s. That venture only lasted a couple of months. In fact, it is the place I was singing in just a couple of days before they closed. Not that one event has anything to do with the other.

Anyway, I was walking by last night and noticed that the lights were on, so I popped in. I met Bob and Cliff, the new proprietors, who informed me the bar was not technically open yet, they had unlocked the doors so the dart league team (from the McCoy’s days) could play their scheduled match. Still, they invited me to have a seat and a beer and that’s what I did. It’s Bob’s first time in the bar business, but something he’s dreamed about for years. He said the deal they got on taking over the lease was too good to let pass. Bob says profit isn’t his motive, he just bored with being retired and the bar will be more of a hobby project. We did share stories of our customer experiences in other places and I think his philosophy will be consistent with what I like in a bar. I also like that he will emphasize good service. One way he will do that is by motivating the waitresses by allowing them to keep the tips they receive. This shared tip jar thing most bars use has long been a pet peeve of mine. If I can’t tip the gal who serves me, I’m less likely to tip. I think this is a good strategy which will benefit the staff and the customers. We’ll see.

I asked Bob the name of the place and he responded “it doesn’t matter”. I’m thinking that of course, it matters. When he saw my look of confusion he clarified that the name of the bar is It Doesn’t Matter. Ha! I like his sense of humor and wish him well. I’m looking forward to becoming a regular there. And anytime someone asks me where I’m going to be drinking, I will enjoy matter-of-factly answering “it doesn’t matter.”

To the hike, then:

So, that’s the way it went down. As usual, thanks to Scott for most of these photos.

This afternoon I’ll be attending a birthday party out on Baloy Beach. Should be a good time.

Later, gators!

As I related in yesterday’s post, I rented a room for the homeless woman I call “mama”. The first month’s rent and a security deposit set me back 6000 pesos ($120.). A small price to pay to make a difference in someone’s life and I was happy to do it.

Late in the afternoon yesterday, I headed out for some liquid refreshment at Cheap Charlies. And lo and behold, mama was sitting under her ever-present umbrella right outside the stairs to the bar. I gave her the good news and told her to stick around for a bit. I contacted my Filipina friend who had found the place and asked her to join us. Once she arrived she contacted the woman getting extra keys made so we could take mama home. Soon enough, we were all in a trike on the way to Baloy beach.

Upon arrival, we showed mama her new place, demonstrated how the lock worked and where to turn on the lights. We also told her that in the morning we’d come back with a bed cushion, a shower curtain, a fan, and anything else needed for her comfort. My friend told her she would help give the place a good scrubbing as well. Then we invited mama to join us for dinner.

Dinner conversation was light and mostly in Tagalog. I did learn that mama is 68 and was very popular back in the days when Subic was a regular port of call for the US Navy. I think I heard her say that at some point she was married to a Marine. After we ate, we walked back to mama’s new place. I wanted to be sure she could open the door and turn on the light (you have to plug it in before hitting the switch). She managed that just fine and so we reminded her we’d be back in the morning to fix the place up some and said our goodnights.

On the way out, we saw Gerlie, mama’s new neighbor and a friend of mine. She invited us to join her for a beer, so we sat on her porch and enjoyed a cold one. Before I finished that beer, the words Kevin Kim left in a comment on an earlier post echoed in my brain:

Keep in mind that many homeless folks get so used to living on the street that, when they’re gifted with lodging, they fail to maintain their domicile and/or abandon it completely. Some habits are too deeply ingrained, and for the benefactor, the whole thing becomes a waste of money and time. I suspect that “mama” will need some constant supervision if this project is to go well and smoothly.

Back in my more bleeding-heart days, I did a lot of work with the homeless in the DC-Metro area. There’re tons of homeless folks in and around my hometown of Alexandria, Virginia. Most of them have some sort of mental/psychological condition, which is what often compels them to fuck up a good thing. As much as I’m a believer in free will and personal responsibility, I know that some compulsions are powerful and extremely hard to beat (viz. me and overeating). They CAN be beaten, but it takes time, effort, focus, and the care/support of other people to help one along.

Upshot: I’m not optimistic that giving “mama” a home will solve whatever you perceive her problems to be. I mean, I might be totally wrong, but experience and instinct both whisper that I’m probably right.

A few minutes after we left her, mama walked up and held out the key to me saying “I can’t do the lock”. I said I’ll help you with that and she responded “no, I don’t want.” I told her to keep her key (I’d put it on a necklace so she wouldn’t lose it), I’d use my key to lock up for her. She repeated, “no, I don’t want.” You don’t want to sleep there, I asked? “No, papa.” Why don’t you try it for a few days and see? “No papa, I don’t want.” She handed me the key and walked away. Alright, then.

Okay, I figured it was a 50-50 chance it wouldn’t work out. But I was surprised she didn’t even want to give it a chance. Granted, it’s a pretty crappy room, but still, you’d think it would be better than sleeping on the street. Apparently not, at least in mama’s tortured mind. Kevin’s thinking proved to be spot-on; sometimes the people you think you are helping don’t want to be helped. And really, one of the things I have always admired about mama was that she seems genuinely happy whenever I see her. Perhaps I was foolish to think I could make things better for her. Although in my defense, she did tell me when I asked that she would like a place of her own. Heh, maybe she was thinking it would be fancier. Who knows? I don’t regret trying. And if any of my readers are looking for an inexpensive place to stay close to the beach, let me know!

My dreams of upgrading my own accommodations hit a snag when the agent for that house I like advised that the owner was not interested in renting it out, only selling. Oh well. I do think I’ll email the owner directly and ask, the agent has a financial interest in making a sale. The owner might find a long-term lease more attractive than a house that has been sitting vacant for over a year now. We’ll see.

The day wasn’t a total loss though. I had a nice 8K solitary walk in the morning. I did that 1000 step photo thing again:

You can Relive that walk here if you are so inclined.

And here we are with another Hash Monday upon us. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare and he has a 7.5K trail lined up. I will be short-cutting at my discretion, but I am walking to the start which adds about 3K,. So, subtracting one of those hills should even things out some.

And so it goes.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned that fine line between helping someone in need and being scammed that exists here. It’s actually more than that–generosity is often seen as evidence that you are stupid and ripe to be taken advantage of. I’m learning these hard lessons as I go and I am getting somewhat better at saying “no” these days. When I get the pleas about not having rent money or no food for the kids instead of feeling sympathy I’m more likely to ask “and why is it my responsibility to take care of that?” It’s an ongoing process though and I guess it comes with the territory when you are perceived as being “rich”, which I guess comparatively speaking, I am. I just don’t want to be an example of a fool and his money soon being parted.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I derive satisfaction from engaging in charitable activities. In fact, I’ve made the connection that giving for me satisfies an aspect of my selfish nature. Helping someone out tends to alleviate some of the guilt that comes with living large amongst those who have so little. And as regular readers know, some of my giving has come with a transactional quid pro quo element–I do for you and you do for me. Lately though, I don’t find those arrangements quite so satisfying. Maybe that’s progress of a sort.

I guess what prompted these reflections are several recent entreaties that I dispense with some cash in the service of others’ needs. The most egregious came last night in the form of a message from Jhen. I was quite surprised to hear from her as this was the first time she had contacted me since last July. Back then she was starting her college course work remotely due to the pandemic and she needed a laptop. I told that story in a post here. To recap briefly, I needed a new computer anyway and told her I’d give her my old piece of shit. Well, acquiring my upgraded unit took longer than anticipated and Jhen was desperate because classes were starting. So, I bought her a new laptop ($400.00). When it was delivered I invited her over to pick it up and had planned a lunch and movie afternoon. When she arrived though she said she couldn’t stay. Just took the computer and left. Jhen did send a couple of messages telling me how much she loved the computer and thanking me. And that’s the last time I heard from her. Until last night:

Jhenny sent Yesterday at 5:29 PM

Im not ok John…i hope you you understand me and not thingking that im taking advantage your kindness for so long not hearing from me…but i need to take my chance….and pls hear my story first

I got pregnant just the school started…unexpected cause never been pregnant for so long….i gave birth to premature son last sunday…so broke he’s 32weeks and currently incubator with oxygen….we got helps but its not enough because he needs 3 to 4weeks under observation….i need your help John…im sorry but i need to take any chances for my son’s life…..

Im dying everyday knowing my son is fighting his life in the incubator…i got complete medical records…again im sorry John but i dont have a choice….

What to do, what to do? I don’t think she’s lying about the baby. Still, I shared her story with a mutual friend (also a Filipina). Her response was: “you do know she’s married, right?” Um, no. I didn’t know that. Jhen’s marital status never came up during all the previous flirtatious chats we had between us. I know this for a fact because this morning I went back and read them all starting one year ago and never once did she mention having a husband. And then I did the math–even if the baby was born prematurely last week she knew or should have known she was pregnant at the time she was beseeching me for a laptop. That really makes me feel like a sucker. So, as sorry as I feel for her situation and as much as I hope the baby recovers, it ain’t my responsibility to pay the hospital bills. Take it up with your hubby, Jhen.

As if to underscore how I must be perceived, this morning I got a message from Reyna, a girl I’ve chatted with briefly through a dating site, and she begged me for some financial support because her cousin died. Well, that’s an easy one for me. I have a pretty firm rule that I NEVER send cash to anyone I’ve not met in person. I just block them and go on with my life. No big loss there.

Well, on Friday I did give money ($60.00) to someone I don’t know. An acquaintance (Irene, the woman I buy my meat from) contacted me asking if I knew anyone looking for a maid. I didn’t but said I was still looking to hire a replacement masseuse. She advised that her friend didn’t have any massage training. Oh well. Irene then explained that her friend was desperate because she had no money to feed her kids. I told Irene that if she was vouching for the validity of her friend’s needs, I would make a one-time donation on her behalf. I guess she talked to her friend and then relayed the message that her friend was willing to come and service whatever needs I might have (hint hint) in lieu of a massage. Hold on to your seats, dear readers: I declined the offer. To begin, this woman is a complete stranger to me (Irene did share a picture of her though–she’s fairly attractive), and I’m just not into getting intimate with someone I don’t know. That’s why I like the massage route–it is a legitimate way to be physical and if the chemistry is right, you can go from there. The other problem I had was that the money was allegedly for the purpose of feeding her family. It didn’t feel right to me to expect or accept something physical in return for my charitable donation. I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me! Is this leopard actually changing his spots?

Or maybe I’ve just learned Rule #1 left by Kevin Kim in the comments of the post linked above:

…remember Rule #1: don’t be a sucker when women come a-pleading. You won’t be making any real difference that way; you’re just a corpse being plucked at by crows. Making a difference should be about proceeding from a sense of self-worth, i.e., from a position of strength and dignity; it shouldn’t be about trying to find a sense of self-worth. You’re already worthy, good sir, so don’t turn your gestures of charity into a subtle form of begging.

Yeah, I’m getting there. Hopefully.

Another adventurous hike with the Wednesday walking group yesterday. We traveled out to Bataan, the province next door on the other side of the old Navy base. Our destination was the tower atop Mount Santa Rita.

These days the property serves as a weather observatory of some sort and is controlled by the Philippine military. We needed special permission to enter and make the hike. Our planned adventure proved to be quite popular, with over 30 folks signing up, including a contingent from Angeles City.

Alright, so what was I thinking to take on this trail barely a week after the nearly disastrous hike to Boton Falls on the old Navy base? Well, the situation was quite a bit different. I mean we were hiking up a paved road, there and back again. So there would be no getting lost, no sticker bushes, no stinging ants. I likened it to my days back in Korea when I’d make the climb up to Seoul Tower on pavement.

It turns out I was wrong about that. To begin, Mount Santa Rita is twice as high as Namsan. And the road leading up there was much steeper than I imagined it would be. It was 4.5K to the top, with the last 2K being at a 20% or so grade. It kicked my ass and there was some real question in my mind if I were going to be able to make it all the way up. In the end, pride would not let me bail before reaching the objective, but man oh man, were my lungs screaming. I’ve been struggling with uphills quite a bit lately but this prolonged ordeal felt like it was going to kill me. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I suspect my diminished lung capacity is not supplying enough oxygen to my poor old leg muscles. Anyway, I made it and I have the pictures to prove it.

But before I get to that I did have an interesting encounter on the hike. I noticed some of these alongside the road and there was something oddly familiar about them:

In the summer of 1972, I worked for the Rayolite company at their plant in Huntington Beach, California. Remembering that fact reminded me about a co-worker named Lisa I had a big crush on. I took her on one date, a Crosby, Stills, and Nash concert. Turns out she had a crush too, just not with me. Ah, well. Story of my as yet unlived life, right? In a sort of epilogue to that unrequited love about four years later I was a mailman in Anaheim and delivered to her house one day. Her mama told me Lisa had married her crush. I hope she had a happily ever after with him.

The other thought I had was that I may have actually had a hand in making those reflective markers. I mean, I’m sure they were installed back in the Navy days. And when I worked there they were a relatively new product line. So, it is possible that me and that Ray-O-Lite were together once again after all these years. Prove me wrong!

Anyway, remembering all that helped me forget my suffering a bit as I made my way up the mountain. Let’s go to the photos, shall we? (As usual, these photos are a group effort. Scott pulls them all together from several sources, cleans them up, then posts them on our Facebook page. Some are mine, but I steal them from there too.)

Well, I did it. Another monster hike and I lived to tell about it.

Here it is New Year’s Eve. Guess I’ll go out and do a bar crawl and see how long I last. I know it won’t be midnight though. But who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with someone.

Happy New Year everyone! I’ll be back with a full report on tonight’s adventures tomorrow.

One of my old smartass putdowns when arguing was that “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know”. I fear that it may actually be coming true, at least the forgetting part. It goes beyond mere absent-mindedness; today I walked out for my hike and forgot to put on my hat. To make that failure even worse, I had gone upstairs earlier for the specific purpose of getting the ballcap I’d forgotten earlier. Took a pee and forgot the hat again.

But what really bothers me is the parts of my life that are just fading away. Last night laying in bed and waiting for sleep to overtake me I started thinking back to my youth on Milton Avenue in Westminster, California. Heh, I remember my address (13892) but what about the friends I grew up with? I remembered some of them, like Rod McClanahan and Darrol McCue who lived on my street. There were other buddies too that I can vaguely recall but some have fallen into a black hole. I remember I drove a friend’s sports car through a brick wall. Yeah, I was high or drunk. Or both.

There were a lot of empty spots like that in my memory and I found it disconcerting. So it was rather surprising when I got a message from my high school buddy Rod Headlee this morning:

Do you remember who the members of the Ringwraiths softball team were the year we won the championship game two to one?

Are you kidding me? That would have been 1974 and I honestly hadn’t thought of those guys since the turn of the century. [UPDATE: 2010 anyway] Coincidentally, some of the names would have been the same ones I couldn’t remember from the night before. I remembered playing softball of course and our team name but had no recollection of our championship season.

Now, Rod and I are Facebook friends. But his message this morning was the first time I’d heard from him in three years. Last time I saw Rod and his wife Pat was back on New Year’s Day in 2012 on his sailboat in North Carolina. Yep, they live on the boat most of the time and travel the world from their West Coast base. Not bad for a guy who’s a couple of years older than me. Anyway, his message today out of the blue took me aback. And after I confessed I couldn’t really remember more than a couple of the players, I asked how he was doing. He responded that he had some plumbing to do and would get back to me later. Maybe another three years?

And as if to underscore the point I’m attempting to make with this post (and which I might have forgotten by now) I did a quick search of my blog archives and found this post from 2010 featuring this photograph:

So, I don’t know whether I should feel good about remembering some more names after seeing the photo or not. The “Dutch” guy was my pot supplier and my first wife’s ex-boyfriend. It’s scary to me though that I don’t recall my old post or the fact that we were league champions.

Rod also reminded me that we attended a massive outdoor rock concert that year called California Jam.

Oh well, this has been an interesting trip (and fall) down memory lane. At least for me. I forgot I’m writing for an audience that probably gave up on this post after the first paragraph. If you are still here, thank you for your indulgence!

As bad as I may be, at least I’m not China’s bitch.

Now if I could only figure out how to lose the bad memories.