Day 341: The Halloween War.

Mildred was a mean and nasty witch. She never combed her hair, never took a bath, and never tied her shoes. Her face was covered in warts. She lived up on a steep hill in a little house.

It was the night before Halloween, and Mildred was happy because she ruled Halloween. Mildred liked being in charge.

Then she looked out the window, and in the distance, she saw some faintly flickering lights. They seemed to be getting closer. Were they basket balls? Oh no, they were Jack-O-Lanterns, and they were coming fast! Mildred hated the Jack-O-Lanterns because she knew they wanted to rule Halloween.

Soon, she heard a knock at the door. She knew who it was: The Jack-O-Lanterns. Mildred opened the door and there they were. The Jack-O-Lanterns hated Mildred as much as she hated them. They said, "We challenge you to a war on Halloween night, and whoever wins gets to rule Halloween."

Mildred knew she had no choice. "Fine," she said. "I'll do it." Then the Jack-O-Lanterns left, and Mildred thought, "Halloween is tomorrow night!" She had to get ready, so she went to the Halloween store and got a new broom. Then she went to bed.

In the morning, Mildred put on her scariest outfit and got ready for war. She waited until night, then she said three magic words and set off.

When she got to Halloween Street, she saw the Jack-O-Lanterns and landed. They were ready for war. The the war began. Mildred said a magic spell and two candy bags appeared in her hands. She threw the candy at the Jack-O-Lanterns, and the Jack-O-Lanterns threw candy at Mildred.

Then the Good Ghost appeared and said, "Stop this war everyone! It's Halloween, and you're supposed to be nice like always." Mildred and the Jack-O-Lanterns stopped the war and thought about what to do. Then they said sorry to each other, and suddenly, Mildred's warts disappeared and she became nice.

Mildred and the Jack-O-Lanterns were friends forever, and lived happily ever after.

- Written by Shannon, Age 8 (Second Grade), 10-06

Images From the 'Hood:

Day 339: Farewell to a King.

Hawk 1993-2006

If I have beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons. - James Thurber


We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan. - Irving Townsend.


God sat down for a moment when the dog was finished in order to watch it ... and to know that it was good, that nothing was lacking, that it could not have been made better. - Rainer Maria Rilke

Day 337: Day of Rest.

Carefree - 2006

Day 330: Day of Rest.

Em Bat tled - 2006

Day 328: See Change.

George swings for the fences. Apparently, the end of the batting cages was just the beginning.

I can't imagine life in Los Angeles without George. I met him the first week I moved here, way back in August of 1992. Depending on the era, we've been classmates, writing partners, daily confidantes, traveling companions, stoners, opponents, neighbors - at one point, we were even estranged (I blame a particularly bad phase with the Ex).

In short, George has always been my best friend here. He's been my family. I'm not exaggerating when I say I life without him would be ... less.

I guess I'd better get used to the idea, because I found out yesterday that George is leaving Los Angeles in December. He and my housemate Jackie are moving to the Pacific Northwest to begin the next phase of their life together.

Am I happy for them? Sure, in the same way you're happy when people you love get offered their dream jobs ... in Hong Kong.

I wish I had something insightful to say about all this, but I don't. Not yet, anyway.

For now, I'm just trying to adjust, trying to accept that the world as I know it is about to change in a big way.

Sea change, indeed.

Day 327: Another Date.

I sometimes wonder when coffee conquered the market as the non-alcoholic dating beverage of choice. Where did people go before there was a coffee house on every corner?

One of these days, when someone suggests meeting over a cup of coffee, I'm going to respond with something random like, "How about grabbing a cup of guava instead?" If I'm lucky, they'll think I said "java" and it will lead to a moment of confusion. Or maybe I'll just suggest meeting over a glass of milk ...

I suppose I'd better not try this out on someone I might actually be interested in. They won't think I'm funny ... they'll just think I'm weird (or a dork, or both). They might not be wrong.

But I digress. My point was going to be that I went out on a low-key date tonight, and yes, we met over coffee.

As you know by now, I have at least one red flag in advance of nearly every date I go on. This time, it was age - Justine is pretty much jailbait at 29. I decided to go anyway because she's bright, she's a writer, she lives close by, and she seemed to have a spark of personality.

I was right on all counts. We had a nice conversation, and I guess I have to admit that her laid-back British accent made it all the more entertaining (I know, I know - I'm an American cliche ... but come on, it's a nice accent).

Anyway, I was glad I went. Were there sparks? Well, I can't speak for her, but on my part, I'm not sure there were enough to overcome the part about being born in 1977.

Oh well, if we do decide to see each other again, maybe I'll try out the guava line ...

Day 319: How Cats Are Helping My Diet.

Mojo in the yard, waiting for prey.

I'm a dog person. I've never been a cat fan. The only reason I even have a cat is that when I was visiting Bambi 10 years ago, Mojo (who'd been recently saved from death at a shelter) was being abused by another cat in the house. Mojo insisted on sleeping with me while I was there, and she won me over. I took her home on the plane in a box.

It hasn't always easy for Mojo. Over the years, she's had to put up with a houseful of dogs and, for the first few years, she didn't get nearly enough attention. Then, somehow, she won me over - she's an absolutely amazing cat.

There's only one thing ... she likes to kill mice and then leave them around the house (she manages this even though her original asshole owners had her front claws yanked out). Despite the fact that dead mice in the house completely grosses me out, I reward her behavior because live mice in the house is even worse. I'm glad she keeps them away.

This morning, however, was a bit much. I'm walking to the bathroom - in bare feet - when I step on something and feel two sensations: liquid, and the crunching of tiny bones.

Yes, Mojo had left a mouse in the hall. I almost threw up on the spot, and I couldn't get the residue off me fast enough (I hope both Fantastik and 409 sprayed directly on the skin don't cause a rash ... so far, so good).

I would have gingerly collected dead mousie and thrown him away on the spot, but I must confess that I chose another route. Thanks to the influence of one of my favorite websites (www.whatjeffkilled.com), I carried him outside and took detailed autopsy photos. (Said photos are down below - do not scroll down if you don't want to see them. Seriously. They're pretty disgusting.)

Jeff is a huge orange cat who wandered into the lives of three people who live here in Southern California. He doesn't live in the house, but he considers their property his. Jeff also happens to be a killing machine who catches a wide variety of critters (mice, squirrels, snakes, lizards, even rabbits - I wouldn't be surprised if Jeff took down a coyote). After decapitating and disembowling his kills, Jeff eats everything but the head. He kills so often - and so publicly - that Jeff's caretakers started photographing him in action ... and then they made him a website.

Even better than the photos is the writer's unbridled glee. "Poor bunny," it will say under a photo of Jeff killing a rabbit. "Poor, poor bunny" it will say as Jeff begins to dismember it. "Delicious bunny," it will say as Jeff begins to eat.

I know ... it's disgusting. It's wrong. It's repulsive. It's terrible.

And it's great.

Jeff has become incredibly popular, and even has a Myspace page and an Amazon wish list (it's 100% cat products). For those who object to anything Jeff-related, there's a wonderful bit of writing in the website's FAQ that puts the entire exercise in perspective. You should read it.

For me personally, there's a delightful side benefit to all this feline carnage. After stepping on a dead mouse today and then photographing it, I couldn't even think about eating for hours. I feel the same way after looking at whatjeffkilled.com - food becomes the farthest thing from my mind.

Today was the day I chose to kick my ass back on track with the diet, and I did very well. I clocked in at 24 points (26 is my maximum), and tomorrow is going to be just as low and will also include both exercise and 64 ounces of water. I feel more excited about the diet than I have in a long time. I firmly believe the Harvest Moon had something to do with it, but so did Mojo and Jeff.

See that? Cats aren't so bad.

Day 318: Day of Rest.

Frozen Grapes Rule - 2006