Relax everyone (revised)

I will only move back to Creston if I live on Kev's property in a shack for one (1). With running water hopefully and perhaps a bed and of course a computer hook-up. And maybe a hot plate. And a toaster. A microwave oven wouldn't be bad. And a deck so I can wave to Kev and Anita as they go work in the morning. And a coffee maker. I need that.

And if Anita and Kev, once in a while, invited me to their home, or Ger and Karri invited me over, or Jim and Brenda perhaps wanted me, I probably would accept the invitation (I can't even the imagine the good food I would get). And when they tired of me, I'm not too worrried. Col, Justin and Ty will look after me. Especially Colin. Of course he'll have to borrow money from his Dad to buy the beer so he can visit me. Or maybe not. Ger and Kev sure brought up good kids.

When I fly out there annually, I'll bring one 2 by 4. In 2075, I'll have a deck.

Thank you God, it worked.

Kev

I'm not saying that Kev spends a lot of time indoors, but I've seen ghosts with more colour. And don't look at his legs.

If one blots out one's imagination, he could be cute. Maybe not. One thing he has going for him is his kneecaps.

He annoyed me. I thought I was paddling towards the unknown and quite often he wouldn't let me. Once in a while he would, but not near enough.

I wish I was kidding about this, but I'm not. I'm not participating in the canoe trip again unless I have death defying feats. Col and me, or Ty and me would have fun, but Kev (has he applied for old age benefits yet?) is perhaps over the hill. It's not his fault. One does get aged.

A great one is no more. Everyone in the Storm Clan has stories to tell about Kev. He is (sorry, was) the standard of craziness for The Storm Clan. He would do anything. If one ever said: "kev, I bet you can't ski down that" hello. Everyone followed Kev: Neil, Robin, Ger, Jim, everyone. No fear.

Not anymore alas. He eats his campbells soup, and pretends to live out life. Too bad.

Ger

Ger didn't send me a pic of himself clothed, so I have to use an oldie but goldie. Completely ignore everything about this picture except Ger sitting, patiently, in a canoe with Karri as they are starting out on Saturday morn. "honey?" "yes honeybunch?" "isn't it a beautiful day, look at that bald eagle, we will have a nice, stressless weekend won't we?" "we will, and I'm starting to fish" hello.

In unison, everyone give Ger a hand: clap, clap, clap.

Coitus Interuptus

Hello. I sometimes write without thinking. And I did that last night. Jesse Green, of the NYT, is a dear friend and he flew to Hollywood last week to interview 'personalities' for five days. And what do I do? Tell him that I'm not interested in any of it and I hope he survives that hell.

He is not happy with me. He said I'm 'unkind'. He is a great writer and I sure didn't mean to demean him. At this very moment, he is flying from L.A. to New York and he is mad at me (he was e-mailing me from his laptop in LAX, I presume). I've never been accused of being unkind before. Maybe it suits me. Where is the whip?

I do write to other writers but I really haven't paid much attention to the words that I write to them. And of course I only laud them. But with Jesse, I let my guard down and told him what I really think. Not a good idea. The Storm Blog is one of the only places I can tell it like it is.

And the most amazing thing is, I had no idea that other people even remotely care about what I write. It's kind of scary because I've got a few sci-fi writers that enjoy hearing from me. But comparing Jesse and sci-fi writers is like apples and oranges. Jesse is a friend and I hope he has forgiven me when he lands in New York.

Jim

Jim actually doesn't care if he looks 'cool' anymore obviously. What a nice picture. The up and coming Great Grand Poobah relaxing. With an Aussie hat on. I can't think of anything better, although heartburn comes to mind.

Isn't he cute? In unison, clap, clap, clap.