It Happened on the Twenty-Third

I lied down in the grass with oil on my face. No mechanic's righteousness could guide this mower's soul back down the path to my dwelling. My beer even spilled. Surely the rest of my days of my life would feature some goodness and love and not this trouble I wouldn't wish on my enemies.

Rod came by to shepherd me to a place near Stillwater. I didn't want to go at first, but he said he had a dinner reservation at a snooty French place. The food and staff made for a comfortable night.

Even though we walked through the valley between the old buildings, we didn't fear the evil of the fios gras, for together; we had shadowy death on the run.

Looking Up With Wonder

When I see contrails in the sky I wonder if it's Al Gore.

Unresolved Storm

It was evident the weather was coming. The stop/go/stop traffic was going to make it interesting. Maybe I should have left the motorcycle in the garage today. By the time I turned east, the sky was boiling and showed its hand with lighting flashes.

Faster now in the commuter lane, past smoky buses and cell phones, putting some distance on the darkness.

Slow again, really slow, around downtown. Still have to cross the river. Some raindrops, but it's not the real thing. The sirens are wailing and swirly tails are dropping from the cloud deck. No lane is really faster than another. The sky is black behind the tall buildings in my mirrors.

Finally over the river. All lanes are occupied by the unsure and the disconnected. My exit lane is plugged with those unable to make a right on red. These people are destined to be rained upon, and not just today; but in life in general. Huge raindrops are pinging off the fuel tank and my helmet, but it's still not really raining.

Heading south. Only blocks to go. It's really starting to rain now. Left then right into the alley, and under the garage roof overhang, sort of. The sky opens. I made it with no time to spare.

And somehow it's unsatisfying.

Demons of Eastern-European Lineage

She was wearing a cape and burning the furniture; that was the last we saw of Aunt Dede.

Credit to Neko Case

Everything Under the Sun is in Tune

The new dish went up while I was at work. The installer didn't use the post on the side of the house that worked fine for the previous several years. He said that the dish had to be on a new mount, more 'out of the elements' and then proceeded to put the new one higher up on the roof where it's more exposed.

She called me to say he was gone and that the dogs were calm again. I asked how it looked, afraid that our house now looked like an NBC affiliate. "I can't find it," she said.

"Whadaya mean; the dish?"

"Yea. I don't know where he put it."

"Can you walk around the house and look?"

"I can't find it."

I didn't find it myself until after dark. The installer may not have been learned about atmospheric science but he managed by pure luck to place the new dish in such a place, at such a declination, that it's top edge gets illuminated by a street light down the alley. When I come in the back yard, I think for a second an orange moon is breaking over the roof.

Not so, just a happy accident of the complicated webs we weave.

Not Superman

Hangnails are my Kryptonite