Moved back to California.
Well, things didn't work out in Abilene. I guess I blame Chamorro Jim. The guy thinks that as soon as he's repaired a couple TV sets or dishwashers, he can knock off and just drink Coors for the rest of the day. Would that it were so. Some of us are trying to establish slightly grander foundations for our twilight years, thank you very much.
It's a good thing we never actually closed on the old house in San Carlos. We moved back in essentially overnight (actually, I moved back in, because Liz and the baby hadn't yet left) and I'm sitting at my desk now, writing this down. It's so nice not to have Chamorro Jim aggressively drinking Coors at me while I try to get work done.
At any rate, I've been getting the Christmas list bug lately, and I thought I'd jot down the things I'm interested in. It's always fun to write down lists. For example, here's a little list I'll throw out there before I even get on with the Christmas list:
That is a list of STDs which are hard to spell. Why are they all so hard to spell?
Without further ado, here is my Christmas list:
1. That Weber Q small propane gas grill. I have the mesquite Weber and it's too wasteful for everday cooking. It's like turning on the Space Shuttle to broil a shrimp. This one I could keep right outside our bedroom door, on the deck, and flick on at a moment's notice. I might even set it up in the kitchen, depending on whether or not I am the only one home at the time.
2. 168 Finger Ave, Redwood City. This is an incredible 1930s structure on .6 acre, with a creek. It needs a fair amount of restoration, but I figure we could set up Sheik Yerbouti City (tents) and camp in the backyard until all the renovations were complete. A deal for 1.6m fell through in October, so if you're in the market to drop around 1.4m on a house for me, it's probably yours for the taking (and giving).
3. "The Winding Sheet," new historical detective fiction by H. Maude Cummings (I go through this stuff like crazy)
That's about it. I have to go to bed, because I am about to have a dream where my arm falls asleep so bad that Robert DeNiro yells at me for being a "shmuck."