You knew it had to happen eventually, right?

I didn't get the latest podcast done tonight, mostly because I got distracted farting around with sound effects in the best cheezy-AM-morning-radio-circa-1968 manner, and then realized it was nearly 3:00am. However, prior to this, I had spent an entire day (and most of yesterday) distracted by a variety of interesting things.

Where to start?

Well, to sum it up, I destroyed yet another Saab cylinder head, lost $60 at the track, had amazing, rambunctious late-night sex with someone I met very recently, replaced the starter in the old Ford tractor, and found someone who might actually be The One.

In no particular order.

Yeah. It was that kind of day.

So, what do you want to hear about first? The Saab? The horse track? The tractor?

Oh... the SEX.

And probably a few of you romantics want to hear about The Possible One.

I'm not going to go into all the details, but suffice to say that a late-night IM session with a nice, witty schoolteacher I met quite recently ended up with one of those late-night phone calls... "come over and cuddle with me. I'll leave the door open."

I knew... I knew what was going to happen. I'm not stupid. I took a quick shower, put some stuff in my travel bag and drove over. The lady in question (we'll call her Theresa) lives perhaps 25 miles from here, and I found my way over there and let myself in. In less than two minutes, we were all over each other and it was loads of fun. I really, really love being with someone who knows herself and lets things fly as they might. Theresa's rather patient border collie rested on the rug next to the bed, sighing patiently in that way dogs have. I guess I was in her spot.

No, Theresa is not The Potential One, though she's a terrific person and we talk really easily and rather hyperactiv ely with each other. She's newly-separated, for one, and for another, she has two teenage children living with her. It just happened that this week, they were across town with their father, and Mom had her heart set on sex, I suppose. She's the sort of woman I'd love to have as a lifelong friend, much like my friend Mary, but I suspect we'd drive each other nuts in a serious relationship.

The tractor now has a new starter and a new battery, and it and I spent the evening demolishing a lot of field grass that had grown up. I was amazed to see that where last year at this time, I had a sort of scrubby thicket of locust trees, this year, that same area near the barn is now a forest. I drove the Ford among trees that are now far too big to run over even by accident, even if I wanted to, which I don't. I'd like to have a good portion of my land go back to forest, actually... pastures just don't feel right here.

I am currently driving the Saab-o-matic, since the blue Saab has a trashed head gasket after it overheated in traffic backups caused by some dildo killing himself in a traffic accident he caused on I-70. The other white Saab is also laid up, waiting for a new exhaust system. It farted the old one away as I was coming down the hill near Harper's Ferry on the way back from losing sixty bucks at the track.

Oh, you're still waiting for The One, are you?

OK, OK.

Here's how it goes, and you know this had to happen to me eventually, right?

She's an artist. She's a terrific dancer and has gorgeous calves. She writes remarkably quickly and captivatingly well. She likes cats, though she doesn't have one. She doesn't have and doesn't particularly like children. She has a staggering knowledge of jazz. She's heartbreakingly pretty. She likes me.

She lives in San Francisco.

Fuck.