Ugandan discussions removed from agenda

I spent this morning wondering if my beau from California was going to make a pass at me Thursday evening. The reason for this is that last night, I decided that even though I was fond of him, I didn't want to discuss Uganda with him. I suppose I should point out that, ever since announcing his trip to Dallas, he has never said anything remotely suggestive.

Thankfully he was thinking along the same lines as I. So tomorrow night will be pleasant, but I don't have to worry about any, er, misunderstandings.

Meanwhile, back at Chez Melina, one cat has departed to a hopefully permanent new home. A nice couple who recently lost their Maine Coon cat spotted my Everton on the shelter's Web site, called about him Monday, and ended up taking him home for a test drive tonight. I was a bit sad to see him go, but he'll enjoy the added attention.

Radish time

After work today, I ended up interfacing with Rachel and another cat rescue-related friend who has a small sanctuary for unadoptable critters way out in the sticks. About halfway through biscuits and gravy at the local Cracker Barrel, we realized that although we were worried about the Fed bailout implications, we weren't as worried as we could be. This was because none of us really have any savings to speak of. I think I came in first as I have a 401K with an embarrassingly small amount of money and a big fat loan taken out of it.

The real kicker is that all three of us have college degrees.

Later I got home and almost switched on Keith Olbermann, only to realize that I really didn't want to hear about the latest on the Fed bailout, the presidential election, or anything else. I just want to hunker down and pretend to be a radish, not spend any money, and wait and see what transgresses economy-wise.

Old flame from West Coast

Except for the weekend being Delightful Date's teaching gig, it wasn't a bad weekend. I went for a longish, solitary hike on Saturday and managed to finally move some junk into storage today, so Chez Melina doesn't look quite as much like the house from Deliverance (the porch was trashed). And tonight I found out that my pre-marriage fling from California was going to be in town this week, and wanted to know if I were available for dinner Thursday night. Rachel is annoyed and jealous; she has seen his photo and she has this thing for tall Jewish guys with glasses.

The tall Jewish guy and I got together in September 2000 via the Internet, and ended up spending a week in London together a couple of months later. It was the week of the presidential elections. I still remember our watching in horror, realizing that Dubya had actually won. After his conference was over, he flew back to California.

I remember driving him to Heathrow (aka Deathrow) early the next morning. I actually found a stopping place, kissed him goodbye, watched him walk away in his expensive trench coat. It was black and a bit long, even for his tall frame, and I called him Neo. He later admitted that he'd glanced back at me as I drove away, and he was surprised to see how sad I was. Eight years later, he still claims he has never forgotten how I looked.

Later that day, the sad Melina morphed into a shameless hussy. She left her car at the Blackheath train station and walked to Morden College so she could drop in on John Savelle.

Well, I wasn't really a hussy. I wore jeans and an oversized sweater, minimal makeup, and I dropped by before lunch. How much more platonic can you get?

This last meeting with John was one of those rare events that make you wonder if synchronicity is real. Why, on this day of all days, did John's wife decide to stay an extra day with her son and his family? Her son lived a four-hour drive away.

It was one of my finer hours. After I left him at lunch, he called me and asked me to dinner. He didn't fess up about the absent wife until I arrived. He graciously offered the guest bedroom, but looked surprised and disappointed when I promptly disappeared into it for an hour.

I had eggs and toast for dinner and kept my distance. We watched television until he couldn't stand it any longer. He had to beg for permission to kiss me. Of course I turned into a total roundheels after a few minutes of snogging, but at least I held off for a little while. Remember, I didn't think I would ever pass that way again. And I haven't, some eight years down the road.

So now I'm wondering about Thursday. Do I tell Delightful Date? Although we've never demanded fidelity from each other, we've both admitted that we're not sleeping with anyone else, for the simple reason that we both think the quality would not be as nearly as good elsewhere. All in all, a sneaky way for two commitment-phobes to creep one inch closer to each other without the other noticing. (Yeah, right.)

Michael Moore's finest moment

I have a confession to make: in large doses, Michael Moore annoys me. However I enjoyed his show The Awful Truth.

One of my favorite segments was his idea for choosing the 2000 Presidential candidates: the Mobile Mosh Pit. Jump into his portable mosh pit - filled with shirtless registered voters - and you have Moore's endorsement.

You may be surprised to see who takes the dive. Unless you've seen this before, of course. The scary bit in this clip is to hear Dubya crowing about prosperity for all. Eight years on, he wants us to cough up $2,300 a head so his buds on Wall Street can carry on as before. Fuck that for a panto, as my beloved ex-boss from Huddersfield would say.

McCain " I did not have sex - I mean speak with - that woman"

After the last couple of days, I am beginning to seriously doubt John McCain's sanity.

Before I go further, I should point out that until recently I didn't have a big problem with him. I rather liked his short-temperedness (don't ask me why, I just did). My sole bone of contention was Iraq. But recently he seems to be in Flip Flop Heaven.

There is also the problem of lying candidates. People who are trying to decide who to vote for in November don't like it when one tells stupid whoppers. Like the one McCain told yesterday. Instead of heading straight to Washington after cancelling his visit to David Letterman, he headed straight over to the NYC studios where Katie Couric was waiting for him. And of course Letterman found out and barbecued him in his absence - with the help of Keith Olbermann. Did McCain really think Letterman wouldn't find out? It's like stealing someone's hubcaps without waiting for the car's owner to get out of the vehicle.

Of course, Craig Ferguson joined in the fun afterwards. I finally figured out why I think Ferguson looks familiar: he's a brunette version of my ex-husband. Plus, my ex sounded English, not Scots.

Now all we have to do is wait and see if we have a Presidential debate tomorrow night. Hope McCain can fit it in - I mean, hell, in this video, he insists how he campaigns 24/7.

I suppose I could fly to the debate venue and ask Obama a few questions; since the press is all over McCain's latest faux pas, I really don't know what he's been up to this week.