THE STONE FORMATIONS

A reader wonders how I survived the seventy six degrees Fahrenheit heatwave we had in San Francisco a day ago. Oh man, it was horrible! Dead beanie babies up and down Van Ness Avenue as far as the eye could see! The agony, the heartache!

Actually, there are still people who have entire rooms filled with beanie babies.

Twenty years ago when I left one job I discovered that one of the managers there knew the names and backstories of every one of the hundreds of damn beanie babies in her office, but couldn't remember the names of half of the people in her department. She was, of course, considered perfect for her position. Detail oriented!

Perhaps unremarkably, all of the beanie baby boobies of which I'm thinking are Chinese American women. My apartment mate is also a Chinese American woman, and there are dozens of small critters in this apartment, but I'm the guilty party in this regard, and not a single one of them is a beanie. I think the crucial difference is that those folks are married or in long-term relationships, whereas neither myself nor my apt. mate has that going on.
And I'm not a Chinese American woman. I can't even fake it convincingly.

The small critters speak largely with her voice, however.
And sometimes say the most outrageous stuff.

The academic exercise painting above was done on the computer while listening to my apartment mate go on about something family-related. Seeing as I've met just one of her siblings, once, it didn't mean much to me, and I was in pain from being on my feet all day. But I let her talk, though. She needed to get it out of her system. I suspect that all of her kinfolk are on the spectrum. Several of them are engineers. That's almost a guarantee.

No, that's not Southern Marin. Or San Francisco. It's probably closest to somewhere in Arizona, okay? Just look at those rocks. Where the wild beanie babies roam.


The Dutchman is tired. He has had a long day. And he will probably call it an early evening and retire for the night soon.


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