Los Gatos

My poor doggie.



Apparently it was over 105 degrees in Los Gatos yesterday.



I could hear him panting while on the phone with him.

This is Oscar with this flaps extended.



I hope my sister carried him home like I asked her to, because Pugs die in extreme heat (as do most living things, with the exception of most Los Angelinos and Los Vegans- it must be a combination of all that smog and silicone).

--

I was on the phone with my Dad last night, and he creamed any hopes of me coming to LA at the end of the summer. I asked about my birthday hard drive (with the exception of my Mom, my family has virtually ignored it again this year) (I asked for a new hard drive for my computer [100GB, 7200 RPM]). My Dad was hesitant, and then said he didn't know where he'd be able to get the money. On top of this, he has my sisters tuition help request (a pathetic $300) to worry about. This means that any hopes of my parents paying for part of my travel costs from San Jose to LA have been dashed.

My parents combined income is somewhere just below 200G a year, and yet they're continually strapped for cash. I asked my Dad why he thought this was, and he said "It seems that whenever we get a raise, we buy a bigger [or more expensive] house."

Is something wrong here? When did the idea of owning a home turn away from "a place to raise a family" to "a piece of real estate to constantly trade around/ equity machine"?

I once asked my dad if he ever considered what the impact of selling their last house and moving out of Los Angeles did to my sense of "home." I worked on that house with my own hands, in fact, the only reason that they were able to sell their house before that was because I helped fix up their first house. His reply was "you were paid for the work you did, home exists wherever your family is. Love makes a home."

What love?

He doesn't get it.