Good Morning Gentle Readers,
It's for fellow wino, the Kosmik Kid who, on occasion, gets misty for another California, one that more closely resembles the mostly vanished, mostly laid-back Promised Land, where long haired free spirits like him once wrote software and lived among the Oaks and Sycamores in Silverado Canyon.
Oft times he was behind the bar (or smoking weed with the Hells Angels) at Silverado's now-defunct Alpine Inn, next door to Missy's old place, right down the road from where Evelyn's family was evac'd by helicopter during the floods (watched it on the Six O'clock news). Despite the Kevin Bacon rule, none of the three of them knew each other.
Speaking of hotter, it's been hotter than a three dollar pistola here at the Casa. No June Gloom, for once summer started before the 4th of July.
Took that boy surfing a few days ago. I love the sun but its toll is plain anymore. Tops of my feet always look dirty, gave up trying to scrub it off in the shower. Years of bare feet, Huarache's, and river trips. You don't realize how sunburnt your feet can get until it's too late. Hasn't hurt my love life though.
Now, Gentle Readers, go soak up some sun. While it's still free. I plan to do just that.
BTW, my feet don't look like hers.
For the longest time The House Blond wondered why Sheryl had her .45 on, so she could rock on. At the beach.
That's Banana Boat, not Sam Colt. Sweetie. Train up a child and all that.
Happy Two's Day.
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