Sultry Latin heat.

Woo! Ciete de Mayo! Woo!

I did make mayonnaise yesterday and it was guh-ross. I blame the olive oil and screw you, Ray-Ray. More to the point it is ridiculously hot and I have no AC. Well I do have AC, but I'm using it to power a forest of fans. Cold shower. Now.

Dos de Mayo!

Woooo! Cinco de Mayo is coming up fast. Cinco el Mayo, if course, is the day when St. Valentine drove the snakes out of Jesus' tomb, and when they rolled back the stone.....the flag was still there. And we celebrate this glorious occasion by getting hammered on cheap Mexican beer. Woooo!

In all seriousness, I'm of the mind that Cinco del Mayo is the new St. Patrick's day. An obscure minor holiday that morphs into an excuse to dress up and get drunk. The holiday may be Mexican in origin, but that sentiment is 100% American, baby. So to welcome Cinco la Mayo into our co-opted holiday family, I'm going to make an All-American housewarming gift. And what's more American than mayonnaise? Home-made mayonnaise suitable for use in ham sandwiches and potato and pasta salads. Just like Abuela used to make!

A winner is you!

Athena got a job interview with the American Cancer Society today. And I got a Netflix subscription. So it looks like everyone's a winner. Except for you, because you have to read this boring post.

Hey check out Posty Mcgee over here.

Okay! And we're back, guys. And by 'we' I mean 'me' and by 'guys' I mean 'also me'.

Lotta stuff happened in the past few weeks so I'll just hit the high points, in no particular order.

1. Spent a weekend with my brodelayheehoo and watched Nathan Drake explore Aztec ruins in gorgeous HD.

2. Decided that Lazenby is the best Bond.

3. Ran into the street to rescue a bird.

4. Got a brand-new shiny cast.

5. Just kidding.

6. Found a few new recipes to test.

7. Lost 3 gigs of music!

8. Nap time.

Death in the family.

There has been a death in the family, so I will be far and away for a few days. No doubt I'll feel an urge to put down some thoughts I have about the funeral and funerals in general, but I'm sure you'll understand when I don't. Just be aware-> Funerals: I have opinions.

Questions.

Coupla things.

First, you may have noticed that I skipped a day or two in my allegedly daily journal. That's because you're nosy and need to mind your own business. But it's also because I've got this crazy swing shift thing going on so Saturday-Sunday, I'm either asleep, hanging out with Athena, or at work. None of those states being conducive to a blogging-type situation. Hmmm. Have to figure something out with that.

Secondly, it occurs that even though I previously said that I don't particularly care if this journal is read by anyone else, I still write as if I'm writing to someone. So what the deal? Do I secretly desire this thing to have an audience? Am I addressing myself in the future? Is it just a habit leftover from email conversations? Is there something inherent in human communication that demands the perception of an outside participant even if that participant is imagined or internalized? Did I accidentally raise a serious question in what was meant to be the setup for a stupid joke thereby derailing my train of thought and ruining this post's entire punchline?

Hmmm. Something to think about.

7 steps to success.

So here's the plan:

1-Save money like Scrooge McDuck.

2-Wait until Athena graduates.

3-Pinch pennies like Mr Krabs.

4-Hope Athena can find a job in Savannah.

5-Hoard money like a survivalist hoards beans.

6-Hope I can find a job in Savannah.

7-Move to Savannah.

That's my to-do list. And it has to be done before Xmas. You'll notice that most of this list involves waiting. I'm terrible at waiting; it feels like nothing's happening. And then suddenly it feels like everything is happening all at once.

The big problem will be the timing. Once I've enough money to cover a deposit and first & last month's blah blah blah, then we've got to have jobs waiting for us before we make the move. It wouldn't be so much a problem if I had a car. But without the ability to commute, things get tricky. But not {Tricky}, which is unfortunate.