I like to think that I am Dr. Ugazi, Prof. of Anthropological Studies at the prestigious Palomar University, located a stone’s throw from Penny Lane Pub in San Marcos, California.

Dr. Ugazi* had been a wealth of information in regards to people watching and, among other topics, death. “Gavestones, grave sights… all stupid” is what he once said. He also said that watching other people was good for the soul…if there is such a thing.

There is. And I am proof. My soul today is like a smog rating on your television in the morning: * * * out of * * * * * acidic rain clouds/smog smokestacks. aka “Level Good” .

This morning, as I slowly peeled my body out of bed, gathered myself after what was a hauntingly sad night (remember, I have days where I rise above the scene and days where I wallow in self pity— im only human) I looked at the electric blue fence and drew a deep breath in. WTF am I still doing here? I thought. Then I looked over at my suitcases. I remembered. I am here until I am not here anymore. I am almost through this. 

London Jean popped over, knocking on the front door. I walked through the living room and quitely noted and moved beyond the couch where he didnt come back to last night. I hate that I even acknowledged it.

“Hello Mate. Can we chat?” Jean asked. 

Her daughter and son-in-law are both from London and desperately needed help with the home they are building. Long of the short is that there was a HUGE pile of sand that needed moving. The builders wouldnt do it— drama. In the end, Jean needn’t even ask. She has been beyond sweet and helpful and I said yes intstantly.

I strapped on dirty clothes, had a cuppa, and headed over. I was doing hard labor today and it felt amazing. I shoveled 6 feet of sand and wheeled it away. In the end, I listened to all these strong english accents and heard phrases like, “Oi, dont pull your plums out, mate”.

Afterwards, Steve, the son in law who is a roughneck to the max, cracked a beer and said, “I know about your situation. He is a fuckhead prick…” etc. this went on and made me have much more gratitude for strangers. Jean chimed it with, “Youre too good for him babes” and it totally reminded me of patsy and eddy from ABFAB.

It was a jolly good day. They were all lovely and reminded me that joe is a smudge of a human stain and that, on the whole, people are good. Especially the ones who stood on their front porch and waved at me as I drove off saying, “CHEERIO!”

cheerio! awesome.