The Sketchers emporium that we went to had the same charm, though. The top and sides of the storefront were framed by this thick black-yellow hash mark pattern, like someone had taken a slab of double yellow lines from the street and glued them there.

Walking inside you could get lost in the orgasmic pungency of new shoe. The employees were young, the music entirely alternative, a black worker in his late teens talking smack in the background with accompanying female giggles; it was like "Empire Records" with shoes and minorities. I found a pair of knobby hiking shoes and new sandals with a squishy bubble-wrap insole.

We drove back home during dusk--a golden-orange fireball exploding on the horizon to die into a russet peach--whisking by ash and elms along and around oily green hillsides.

Both of us had talked about eating out but we wanted to check with Scott. As soon as we saw him playing Hoyle poker on the computer, though, we knew he wouldn't budge. This is the same man that can stay glued to Hoyle slots for hours, pressing the same button over and over again with the sound cranked up.

But hell, we ate out at El Torito anyway. Being creatuers of habit, Mom and I got the same thing we'd had every time since we started eating there.

We ran the gambit of mother-son conversations, from advice and empathy for both of our latest relationship problems to what I was doing in Dr. Ziv's lab and my part-time job prospects. I mentioned at one point that I just wanted to date someone who wasn't emotionally or psychologically unstable, someone who was grounded. Mom quipped that between her and my gran, she was surprised I went after women at all.

All of the sudden I said, "Yeah, you're the primary reason, actually (that I want to date stable people)." Had I just said that? I meant it but shit, was that wise? The dinner had been wonderful before then and I felt like I'd fucked up.

She didn't seem upset or phased, though. She smiled and sympathized, mentioning that her outbursts and ranting were mostly because of adrenal/blood-sugar problems; she'd catch herself mid-sentences sometimes and just apologize. She reminded me that her and Scott hadn't ever fought the way they do nowadays, probably because of the death of Scott's father, the contractors and their bag of tricks and all the ensuing communication problems.

I was glad we cleared up some of that shit, that she felt as frustrated by it as I did.

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And now that the page has had awhile to load, here are some of my new shots for the end of March:

"Prodigal Son"

A path along a trail I frequently hike.

"Reflection"

"Stalking"

"Yellow leaves"

"Dong of a new day"

"Blue bells"

"Primary colors"

"Dog's best friend". That's the pot-bellied pig that I have a weird adoration of. Oh, and that's the dog that trots over, whiffles and sometimes barks if any of us look for too long at the pig.

Check out these and the rest of the photos in my March - 3rd collection folder.

P.S. As usual, all of the photos were taken with my Logitech 510 with minimal contrast and brightness tweaking.

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