rootbeer1

And here I am on Dreamwidth ... Now to figure out how to migrate all my old LJ posts ...

Bizarre dream last night: I was living out a sitcom about an ensemble of a dozen wacky characters who worked and socialized together, and when we all went out for nude disco bowling, and everyone, men and women alike, wanted to be my teammate, I realized that I had the role of "the stud" on this show -- that, or I was a better bowler than everyone else.

Jack flies up to SF later today, and we're heading to Hawaii for a long-overdue vacation on Wednesday. It'll be my 50th state!

heypyro, in town for Coachella, stopped by today, and we caught up and then went out for lunch. Yesterday, an Alaska Airlines flight attendant who lives near us stopped by and we chatted for close to two hours, about Alaska's work rules and culture, and how she would like to see Virgin's comparative looseness and sense of fun find a home at Alaska. I think my recent fame (google "Virgin America gate signs" if you don't know what's happened) may go a small way toward making Alaska higher-ups aware that people appreciate Virgin's sense of fun. So, a win.

Well, as expected, Virgin America was sold to Alaska Airlines on Monday. What this means to me is that I'll be leaving before too long, since Alaska doesn't allow the flexible schedule that has enabled me to work in San Francisco every other week, and then spend a week off at home in Palm Springs with Jack and Moochie.

But I'm not quitting just yet. I'll wait and see if there's a buyout, and/or a retirement option. And if it turns out that Alaska really is a great place to work, I'll see about possibly transferring to the Palm Springs station.

Not sure how it will affect me, because it's totally out of my influence, but looks like Alaska Airlines and JetBlue are both trying to buy Virgin America. By this time next month (or in several months) I may be employed by a different airline.

We're flopped on the bed, watching TV, and our cat Moochie is meowing to attract attention, jumping over the bed and then hiding under the covers. Then he scratches the rug and turns over and stretches, so we can rub his belly. I think that's unusual for a cat -- usually when you go to pet their belly when they're on their backs, they grab you with their front paws and kick you with their rear legs. And he sometimes does that too. But mostly he's the most affectionate, purring cat either Jack or I have ever had.

Photos:
http://www.bearcooks.com/galleryphotos/Moochie2015/Page.html
http://www.bearcooks.com/galleryphotos/Moochie3D2015/Page.html (in 3-D)

We're in shock ... one of my oldest friends, Keating DuGarm, passed away of a heart attack over the weekend. He visited us in 2011 and always called me the old man, because I was ten days older than him. We spent a lot of time together in the '80s and '90s, shopping for CDs and attending concerts, eating Thai food and nachos, seeing arty films, reading comics, collaborating on writing, going to ballgames, drinking beer ... we even vacationed together, attending the Quebec City wedding of our friend Bert, and a driving trip through Pennsylvania Dutch country in search of microbrews and offbeat Amish buffets. He'd visited Jack Garceau and me in San Francisco a few times, and I'd visited him in Minnesota in 2008, when I was on a cross-country driving trip with Raymond Kampf.

He wrote to me three weeks ago with a short review of the Bob Mould concert at the Minnesota State Fair. A huge music fan, Keating and I (and other friends like Christopher Cavett, Jim Chadwick, Jim Bierbaum, Patrick Lusk, Meloney Crawford, Pete Wilson, Scott Wasserman, etc.) would often talk about music and exchange mix tapes to turn each other on to new sounds. Some of my happiest memories of the '80s and early '90s were of us visiting each other (me in Connecticut, him in Delaware), record and CD shopping, then eagerly playing what we'd found for each other. Then going out for beers and the hottest Thai food we could find.

Keating, you were one of my best friends, and I'll always miss you. I'll raise a beer for you tonight, buddy.

Still battling  summer cold, or sinus infection, or whatever it is, and now Jack has it too. This morning we found some Comtrex in the medicine cabinet that expired in 2007, but darn it, after taking it, we both feel a lot better.

So I was asleep last night (of course), and dreaming that I was getting a motorcycle, which I could ride to work and ride down the Pacific Coast Highway and all that. It seemed a perfectly reasonable and desirable idea, although I remember Greg H. in my dream criticizing me for wanting some a fancy, larger BMW before starting out on a smaller street bike. I even remember in my dream thinking that once I woke up, I was going to have to start investigating how one goes about getting a motorcycle and learning to drive it.

Then I dreamed I was starting to wake up, and the whole idea seemed ridiculous, and I remember thinking in my dream that some people would dream about getting a motorcycle and hold on to the dream once they woke up, but I was already discounting it even while I was still dreaming. Which seemed very odd to me ...