So, I'm here at the MacWorld Expo with Mom and my brother and a friend. Mom and brother's first time! I feel like an old hand. Last night, we watched the Steve Jobs keynote on Mom's Macbook, and it was a lot of fun. I didn't expect to be sucked into the new stuff, but now I see possibilities, as a true gearhead. The file was quick and seamless, and began playing flawlessly (with a couple pauses in between even) within seconds. So much nicer than two years ago when the Quicktime download took more than a half hour on our DSL.
Ogling all the stuff and trying hard to not pick up a lot of promo materials. I still have stuff from ten years ago...in a bag...still sitting in my room. Bleah. Don't laugh. I sometimes have a hard time throwing stuff away. I still have an old Soviet style Power Computing poster! Those were the days, when being a mac head was like being in an embattled camp. Ah, sweet revenge!!
So, it's only been an hour or so here, and already I'm a whoring my body with PR from a couple companyies: Storyist ("I stand with the writers", which I actually do as a good union worker and believer in such things), and DriveSavers, which I've never had the money to use, since none of my weeny little data was ever worth trying to save with outlays of money. :( Just shows what you can really stand to lose. But, a very good service, from my brief contact with the company years ago.
All kinds of doo-dads, which I always love. Beautiful weather outside, too! Not that we will be seeing much of it. Har. Good temp inside, feet doing ok so far. We have just enough gack between the four of us to be thoroughly entertained by the possibilities and accessories. Now I'm thinkin' I may "need" a new iPod so I can accessorize with the new stuff that's out there, because my poor little third gen, black and white, 20G iPod doesn't have a lot of "followers" with accoutrements. :( Yes, this "need" thing.
The AppleTV has my newest attention after the keynote last night. I need a life. Badly. But the couch is still one of my favorite friends. Too bad the couch doesn't have a dispenser (yet) for the medications I'm gonna have to start taking because of all the sitting about on my bum, listening to my arteries harden along with whatever is playing on the Pod.
Good times! Get out there and enjoy the show! I am!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Monday, July 30, 2007
My First Blast
I have been remiss in adding to the blog for a couple months.
Back in late May, I became the proud owner of a 2003 Buell Blast, delivered to me courtesy of the Harley Davidson dealer that did the 1K service. It was all very exciting. The seller was very nice and allowed me to test ride it around the neighborhood to be sure I wanted it. It was so different than the MSF class bikes or my Reflex. So...burbly. The Blast is a very different ride than your standard rice burner or even a UJM (Universal Japanese Motorcycle). For starters, it's American made. Buell is owned by Harley Davidson, started by a former HD guy. It is much more elemental. The term "thumper" is definitely accurate at idle and very low speeds, even at 492cc's. But, as others have noted, it smooths out in the higher gears. I'm just psyched to have "my first motorcyle," and put my newly-learned MSF skills to use finally. Great class, but, oh, how fast the skills seem to fade without use! Shocking. As they say after passing the class, "you are now qualified to ride a motorcycle at 20mph in a closed parking lot." Very true. Actually my first motocycle is technically a Honda Reflex, a 250cc scooter. But, no clutch. Automatic transmission. Alot of body fairing. Don't drop or you will be sad and your wallet will be even sadder. Super cute and cool looking and very fun to ride, but not the same. I feel guilty not riding it in favor of the Blast, but I've been trying to get out and gain experience with the manual bike.
I've put about 500 miles now in the last two months, and it has truly been a blast, each and every time I get it out. It is nimble, nimble, nimble and turns on a dime. Corners and curves are so much fun, it can be a little scary. Over, over, over...yes! I have yet to scrape a peg, but don't like idea of it, despite the siren call of the turns. The little thing just goes right over. Quite lovely really. I am afraid I will be spoiled for other bikes. I catch myself thinking about what my next bike will be (a Suzuki sv650, btw), but then feel guilty, as my little Blast is so cool and unusual and fun. How could I? I have yet to see another on the road, but now find that I notice every other bike out there. So I know I haven't seen one. Have gotten a few interesting reactions too. Questions, folks checking it out while parked and one fellow even backed up at a stop to check it out, then gave me a thumbs up. Entertaining and fun, to be sure.<
Back in late May, I became the proud owner of a 2003 Buell Blast, delivered to me courtesy of the Harley Davidson dealer that did the 1K service. It was all very exciting. The seller was very nice and allowed me to test ride it around the neighborhood to be sure I wanted it. It was so different than the MSF class bikes or my Reflex. So...burbly. The Blast is a very different ride than your standard rice burner or even a UJM (Universal Japanese Motorcycle). For starters, it's American made. Buell is owned by Harley Davidson, started by a former HD guy. It is much more elemental. The term "thumper" is definitely accurate at idle and very low speeds, even at 492cc's. But, as others have noted, it smooths out in the higher gears. I'm just psyched to have "my first motorcyle," and put my newly-learned MSF skills to use finally. Great class, but, oh, how fast the skills seem to fade without use! Shocking. As they say after passing the class, "you are now qualified to ride a motorcycle at 20mph in a closed parking lot." Very true. Actually my first motocycle is technically a Honda Reflex, a 250cc scooter. But, no clutch. Automatic transmission. Alot of body fairing. Don't drop or you will be sad and your wallet will be even sadder. Super cute and cool looking and very fun to ride, but not the same. I feel guilty not riding it in favor of the Blast, but I've been trying to get out and gain experience with the manual bike.
I've put about 500 miles now in the last two months, and it has truly been a blast, each and every time I get it out. It is nimble, nimble, nimble and turns on a dime. Corners and curves are so much fun, it can be a little scary. Over, over, over...yes! I have yet to scrape a peg, but don't like idea of it, despite the siren call of the turns. The little thing just goes right over. Quite lovely really. I am afraid I will be spoiled for other bikes. I catch myself thinking about what my next bike will be (a Suzuki sv650, btw), but then feel guilty, as my little Blast is so cool and unusual and fun. How could I? I have yet to see another on the road, but now find that I notice every other bike out there. So I know I haven't seen one. Have gotten a few interesting reactions too. Questions, folks checking it out while parked and one fellow even backed up at a stop to check it out, then gave me a thumbs up. Entertaining and fun, to be sure.<
The Blast is more of a naked bike. I hated the look at first. Went round and back between small cruisers, beginner sports bikes and other naked bikes. Then I had to have a Virago 525, which Yamaha no longer makes. Had to had to had to. But then I came back to the little Blast. This is the nature of obsession.
Now, if I could only find a pair of boots that inspire me and that I could walk in too...
With the weather now hot and hotter, it is a challenge to put on all the gear and take the bike out during much of the day. My new windshield that is so fabulous at freeway speeds unfortunately also keeps my jacket from thoroughly venting as it used to. I found out yesterday that if I lean to the left a bit, I get a little rush of air through the jacket vents. Ahhhhhh! But, I seem to be getting used to that hot, sweaty feeling when sitting at lights especially. It is just so much fun that I can put up with the heat. On the positive, with the windshield in the way I also don't cool down too quickly once the day's swelter begins to die. Riding at night, though dicier for visibility, it truly thrilling. Hypnotic almost. I always liked driving at night, but riding at night is extra enthralling. Fewer cars in general, of course, but, I don't know... Looking forward to the weather cooling down. Never have liked the broiling waves of endless asphalt that seem to be the rule in these parts. Blech. Trees, trees, where are my trees?! Nope, just a lot of road, which, in this case, is just as well, as I can ride onto it on the bike. Despite all the gear (and it's ATGATT, for sure: All the Gear All the Time), even short trips to the store, or Post Office are fun. Who knew?
And, to add to the fun, I managed to solve my first performance problem with the help of a truly awesome and useful Yahoo Group dedicated to the Buell Blast. A couple screw turns and some exploratory part removal later, no more stalling before warm up and occasionally (!) at lights. 'Course, the new-rider-re-start-the-stalled-bike-as-the-light-turns-green moments were, to say the least, character building. And strangely morale-building. Getting oneself out of an unfamiliar sticky situation pumps the ego (as well as the adrenaline). Considering that it sat for most of its previous life of four years with only 1K miles on it, things could have been so much worse. But no! Service manuals are great. Thank you Buell Blast Yahoo Group! I can't recommend it enough for any who are interested.
Keeping a wary eye out for the cages (cars) is the priority, of course, since so many accidents are caused by cars not looking for and not seeing bikes. So, am perfecting the Zen of Motorcycle Riding. Keepin' outa trouble and away from trouble, which is all around, it seems, courtesy of the ubiquitous cell phone, in large measure. More on that later, perhaps. Meantime, I enjoy the ride ever more each and every time I'm out. Mm!! Keep the rubber side up all!
Friday, May 4, 2007
Bullet Proof
I have never been bullet proof or immortal (that I know). As far back as I can remember, I do not recall ever having had this feeling. Others have, I am told. Usually young guys, from what I hear. The first time I ever heard about this phenomenon was years ago from a good friend. He told me a story that included a tale of physical peril which injured him as a result. It was at that point in his life, he said, that he realized he wasn't immortal. Interestingly, this is a person who, at that point in his life, had lived through two tours in Vietnam. But that is another story entirely.
"Bullet proof" is a commonly used term for this idea. When I first heard about this feeling, I was amazed. I had never heard of such a thing, though it is supposedly common in young people of a certain age. Apparently, I slipped by this age envelope without noticing, as I have always felt an inherent sense of physical jeopardy. Indeed, I remember feeling amazed that I had made it past twelve years old, and then, twenty. Now, you would think, given this orientation, that I was a cautious individual from way back. But, you would be wrong in a way. When I think back on it, it occurs to me that this attitude came as the result of a few early experiences with physical excess and the pain that resulted. There are two that particularly stick out, mundane as they may seem.
At the age of ten, I decided to see if I could do one hundred deep knee bends, which sounded like a challenge to my young brain. Nice round number. It turned out that it was not nearly the challenge I thought it might be. At the time. The next day I could barely walk. The simple idea of it had never occured to me. The mind boggled. Delayed muscle reaction to excessive exercise.
I "threw my back out" when I was eleven. Much later, I would realize that I probably just pulled a bunch of back muscles as a result of doing a playground monkey bar maneuver that involved standing on top of the bar, swinging forwards until momentum allowed my legs to swing out and my hands release, flinging me away from the bar and landing feet first on the ground. A little scary. Super fun. Done it before. Then, one day, it just didn't work out quite right. Again, could barely walk for days. Only this time, the result was immediate. I don't know when your first muscle pulls were, but I think I was perhaps ahead of my time for a kid not engaged on parent-driven, serious, competitive sports.
I think these early experiences were formative. Pain was not good. I mean the kind of pain that resulted from just being a kid running around like a banshee, like normal. Burning energy like so many spare plastic army men. Not like being dumb and putting your finger in a light socket, or playing with matches or knives. These are the things you were warned about continuously, and they always made perfect sense to me. You could see the consequences would be undesireable. To me at least. Perhaps another symbol of my overactive imagination. That is another story by itself. But no one ever really said, "Don't do too much of that exercise!" or "Watch out! You might pull a muscle!" Even though Dad seemed to do both of these two things on a regular basis. It was said later, but not before I already had a smattering of first-hand experience. You know, how many of those darn deep knee bends constituted "too many?" Who knew? One hundred, it turned out, was too many. But fifty probably would have sufficed for the cautionary effect on a kid just messing around in the back yard. But, you know, going overboard is in the nature of being a kid, in a way. Testing the limits. I just learned those earlier than many, apparently. Having to hobble along at the age of ten as if you needed a walker was definitely not an experience I wanted to duplicate on purpose.
And, I could extrapolate from these experiences, it turned out. Many years of this continuous extrapolation (AKA How much pain and disability do I want to possibly endure?), have lead me to what I think is fairly sane risk analysis and mitigation. In fact, I am the queen of risk anticipation. When one must make a living physically, she is forced to face this nearly every day. And it does not have to be grueling or overly demanding, just physical. As in, you can't just hobble into the cubie the next day and type away all day in MS Office, then get paid.
So, when a very likeable cohort of mine was recently in a major motorcycle accident and almost killed, it particularly bummed me out. Fortunately, he will recover and has a lot of friends and family to support him as he does. But the thing that astonished me was the unquestioned anti-motorcycle sentiment that swirled about in the immediate aftermath. Now, don't get me wrong. I get it. But, then again, I got it before. As in, it's an inherently dangerous activity, and there are wacko drivers behind every hydrant. But it is a risk that you decide to take in return for the potential enjoyment of the activity. Hopefully, you also factor in a lot of risk management, but I understand that many don't. How sad is it, then, that it took a life-threatening accident to put that into perspective. It was there before. And, to be honest, I felt sort of traiterous, listening to all the "motorcycles are bad" sentiment. It just didn't seem polite to even think, "in spite of your misfortune, I'm going to ride again." But people do. Many believe that it cannot happen to them. I've never been one of those. Lots of shitty things happen every day.
I understand that this is not the politically correct view in many ways. I also understand that it is life altering and can take the fun completely away from anything. On the other hand, a few months back, I was a moment away from being killed in a car myself by the wreckless behavior of another automobile driver. As it turned out, I sustained relatively minor injuries in the end, mostly due to some quick reactions by me and my driver at the last minute, and the safety features of the car (side curtain airbags on a VW Jetta, to be specific; I recommend these highly, both the bags and the Jetta). Let me say, that when I was healed enough to drive again, it was very spooky, to say the least. For a while. No fun at all. Nerve racking. I could have made other arrangements, taken the bus, whatever. But it is more convenient and timely to drive. The freedom it provides trumps the inherent risk. And there is inherent risk. On the other hand, I could drop dead from a brain aneurysm, like another friend from work did a few years ago.
Perhaps I would have a different perspective if I were the one in the bike crash. It could well be. But, on the other hand, crummy things happen every day to good people. Especially recently. Like a cloud hanging. In my vicinity, the under fifty crowd of folks I actually know and work with has been taking a beating in this regard. Crummy things happening en masse. Injuries and illness in a tight little cloud of blackness. A real continual downer to say the least. And yes, it makes one really appreciate what one has. But, for so many years, for various reasons: finances, work, fear, risk aversion and even just lack of available friends and cohorts, I've felt as if I never really explored things more at the edges of life. OK, some, very early on, when in my pack behavior stage. But once I began trying to scrape out a living, it dwindled precipitously. Fear took over for much of my life. Fear of a failed marriage, fear of loneliness, of what others think, fear of failure, of financial ruin, of hurting someone you love, of not being able to make a living. And on and on into the sunset.
I'm tired of being afraid. I've been tired for a while now and cannot live that way any more. It's been a slow process and has its gaps here and there. Sometimes the gaps are enormous (more on that later). But that is what life is all about, isn't it? What risk are you willing to accept in order to live life in all its aspects? Life is not short, for the most part, as the saying usually goes. Here, life is generally long. Maybe too long in too many cases, if my family's experiences are any indication. It is way too long to just languish without at least reaching out for experiences and challenges. Managing fear is a true challenge. Going with the flow and staying within the lines only takes you so far, it turns out. The rest is about managing the risks of staying alive, while still feeling alive. And they are legion.
As they say, tragedy is easy, comedy is hard.
"Bullet proof" is a commonly used term for this idea. When I first heard about this feeling, I was amazed. I had never heard of such a thing, though it is supposedly common in young people of a certain age. Apparently, I slipped by this age envelope without noticing, as I have always felt an inherent sense of physical jeopardy. Indeed, I remember feeling amazed that I had made it past twelve years old, and then, twenty. Now, you would think, given this orientation, that I was a cautious individual from way back. But, you would be wrong in a way. When I think back on it, it occurs to me that this attitude came as the result of a few early experiences with physical excess and the pain that resulted. There are two that particularly stick out, mundane as they may seem.
At the age of ten, I decided to see if I could do one hundred deep knee bends, which sounded like a challenge to my young brain. Nice round number. It turned out that it was not nearly the challenge I thought it might be. At the time. The next day I could barely walk. The simple idea of it had never occured to me. The mind boggled. Delayed muscle reaction to excessive exercise.
I "threw my back out" when I was eleven. Much later, I would realize that I probably just pulled a bunch of back muscles as a result of doing a playground monkey bar maneuver that involved standing on top of the bar, swinging forwards until momentum allowed my legs to swing out and my hands release, flinging me away from the bar and landing feet first on the ground. A little scary. Super fun. Done it before. Then, one day, it just didn't work out quite right. Again, could barely walk for days. Only this time, the result was immediate. I don't know when your first muscle pulls were, but I think I was perhaps ahead of my time for a kid not engaged on parent-driven, serious, competitive sports.
I think these early experiences were formative. Pain was not good. I mean the kind of pain that resulted from just being a kid running around like a banshee, like normal. Burning energy like so many spare plastic army men. Not like being dumb and putting your finger in a light socket, or playing with matches or knives. These are the things you were warned about continuously, and they always made perfect sense to me. You could see the consequences would be undesireable. To me at least. Perhaps another symbol of my overactive imagination. That is another story by itself. But no one ever really said, "Don't do too much of that exercise!" or "Watch out! You might pull a muscle!" Even though Dad seemed to do both of these two things on a regular basis. It was said later, but not before I already had a smattering of first-hand experience. You know, how many of those darn deep knee bends constituted "too many?" Who knew? One hundred, it turned out, was too many. But fifty probably would have sufficed for the cautionary effect on a kid just messing around in the back yard. But, you know, going overboard is in the nature of being a kid, in a way. Testing the limits. I just learned those earlier than many, apparently. Having to hobble along at the age of ten as if you needed a walker was definitely not an experience I wanted to duplicate on purpose.
And, I could extrapolate from these experiences, it turned out. Many years of this continuous extrapolation (AKA How much pain and disability do I want to possibly endure?), have lead me to what I think is fairly sane risk analysis and mitigation. In fact, I am the queen of risk anticipation. When one must make a living physically, she is forced to face this nearly every day. And it does not have to be grueling or overly demanding, just physical. As in, you can't just hobble into the cubie the next day and type away all day in MS Office, then get paid.
So, when a very likeable cohort of mine was recently in a major motorcycle accident and almost killed, it particularly bummed me out. Fortunately, he will recover and has a lot of friends and family to support him as he does. But the thing that astonished me was the unquestioned anti-motorcycle sentiment that swirled about in the immediate aftermath. Now, don't get me wrong. I get it. But, then again, I got it before. As in, it's an inherently dangerous activity, and there are wacko drivers behind every hydrant. But it is a risk that you decide to take in return for the potential enjoyment of the activity. Hopefully, you also factor in a lot of risk management, but I understand that many don't. How sad is it, then, that it took a life-threatening accident to put that into perspective. It was there before. And, to be honest, I felt sort of traiterous, listening to all the "motorcycles are bad" sentiment. It just didn't seem polite to even think, "in spite of your misfortune, I'm going to ride again." But people do. Many believe that it cannot happen to them. I've never been one of those. Lots of shitty things happen every day.
I understand that this is not the politically correct view in many ways. I also understand that it is life altering and can take the fun completely away from anything. On the other hand, a few months back, I was a moment away from being killed in a car myself by the wreckless behavior of another automobile driver. As it turned out, I sustained relatively minor injuries in the end, mostly due to some quick reactions by me and my driver at the last minute, and the safety features of the car (side curtain airbags on a VW Jetta, to be specific; I recommend these highly, both the bags and the Jetta). Let me say, that when I was healed enough to drive again, it was very spooky, to say the least. For a while. No fun at all. Nerve racking. I could have made other arrangements, taken the bus, whatever. But it is more convenient and timely to drive. The freedom it provides trumps the inherent risk. And there is inherent risk. On the other hand, I could drop dead from a brain aneurysm, like another friend from work did a few years ago.
Perhaps I would have a different perspective if I were the one in the bike crash. It could well be. But, on the other hand, crummy things happen every day to good people. Especially recently. Like a cloud hanging. In my vicinity, the under fifty crowd of folks I actually know and work with has been taking a beating in this regard. Crummy things happening en masse. Injuries and illness in a tight little cloud of blackness. A real continual downer to say the least. And yes, it makes one really appreciate what one has. But, for so many years, for various reasons: finances, work, fear, risk aversion and even just lack of available friends and cohorts, I've felt as if I never really explored things more at the edges of life. OK, some, very early on, when in my pack behavior stage. But once I began trying to scrape out a living, it dwindled precipitously. Fear took over for much of my life. Fear of a failed marriage, fear of loneliness, of what others think, fear of failure, of financial ruin, of hurting someone you love, of not being able to make a living. And on and on into the sunset.
I'm tired of being afraid. I've been tired for a while now and cannot live that way any more. It's been a slow process and has its gaps here and there. Sometimes the gaps are enormous (more on that later). But that is what life is all about, isn't it? What risk are you willing to accept in order to live life in all its aspects? Life is not short, for the most part, as the saying usually goes. Here, life is generally long. Maybe too long in too many cases, if my family's experiences are any indication. It is way too long to just languish without at least reaching out for experiences and challenges. Managing fear is a true challenge. Going with the flow and staying within the lines only takes you so far, it turns out. The rest is about managing the risks of staying alive, while still feeling alive. And they are legion.
As they say, tragedy is easy, comedy is hard.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Funky, Art & Just Old Funk
So Jerome turned out to be sorta cool, if you like to cruise local artists, with creations of all kinds from prints and ceramic, to textiles and glass and a lot in between. About half the place is falling apart it appears, the other half or so is either renovated or in process. Quite a few structurally dubious buildings that appeared to be inhabited, scarily enough. Lots of Harleys driven by visitors. I didn't see anything but (well, two ancient looking Hondas that I'd guess were actually residents or employees of shops, but hey). Used to be 15K or so residents during the height of copper mining activities which peaked in the 1920's. Sort of a Hippie revival started in the 60's and 70's. Hard to imagine in such a relatively small area. "America's Most Vertical City" and "Largest Ghost Town in America". I usually think of a ghost town being unoccupied, but, with a grand 450 current residents, it most certainly is not, small as it is. But, nice and funky and old, with less pretension than those shops in Tlaquepaque, I think.
More info for the curious: http://www.azjerome.com/default.htm
Bought my first piece of art (after much searching during the year), an ultra cool photo print by Tom Narwid of a slot canyon called Antelope Canyon. Abstract looking formations in close. Hard to describe. See his site below for more info. And he mans his gallery himself, which is great because he was fun to talk to and made me an offer I could not refuse on his print. If I'd had more $$, I would have bought more (so hard to decide! Not my strong suit anyway), but this my inaugural purchase, so I didn't want to get too crazy. If you are ever in Jerome, visit the American Landscape Gallery. The day I we were there,
Check out his gallery online:
http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/american-landscape-gallery.html
Also, check out Phil Timper's work, at the Artist's Coop, for "digital media" art, which I liked a lot (nice site, btw):
http://www.jeromeartistscoop.com/artist_timper.html
His personal site is also particularly nice: http://www.philliptimper.com/pt_high.html
This is the sort of digital non-representational work that looks like it might be easy to throw together on a computer (like so many things the art neophyte thinks are possible with a mere flick of the tablet), but oh, SO is NOT! Obviously personal taste here, but, you know who you are out there.
I was sorely tempted by "Doesn't Match My Couch", the title of which made me laugh out loud (anyone who has studied art in any way will understand), and "Bagpipe Innuendo." The titles are a whole fun by themselves, I thought.
Afterwards, alas, the trip ended early with a big 'ol raging funk. Me in the decidedly unhappy crosshairs. The more things change, the more they stay the same. My interstate vacating karma had slid suddenly and precipitously into the dark side. So, goodbye AZ. Apparently, our semi-dead lawn is contributing a lot of bad Feng Shui to my life...then seeping into the house from outside and hitching a ride into another state. Sounds serious, doesn't it? Is that even possible? Who knows. Glad I'm not superstitious.
More info for the curious: http://www.azjerome.com/default.htm
Bought my first piece of art (after much searching during the year), an ultra cool photo print by Tom Narwid of a slot canyon called Antelope Canyon. Abstract looking formations in close. Hard to describe. See his site below for more info. And he mans his gallery himself, which is great because he was fun to talk to and made me an offer I could not refuse on his print. If I'd had more $$, I would have bought more (so hard to decide! Not my strong suit anyway), but this my inaugural purchase, so I didn't want to get too crazy. If you are ever in Jerome, visit the American Landscape Gallery. The day I we were there,
Check out his gallery online:
http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/american-landscape-gallery.html
Also, check out Phil Timper's work, at the Artist's Coop, for "digital media" art, which I liked a lot (nice site, btw):
http://www.jeromeartistscoop.com/artist_timper.html
His personal site is also particularly nice: http://www.philliptimper.com/pt_high.html
This is the sort of digital non-representational work that looks like it might be easy to throw together on a computer (like so many things the art neophyte thinks are possible with a mere flick of the tablet), but oh, SO is NOT! Obviously personal taste here, but, you know who you are out there.
I was sorely tempted by "Doesn't Match My Couch", the title of which made me laugh out loud (anyone who has studied art in any way will understand), and "Bagpipe Innuendo." The titles are a whole fun by themselves, I thought.
Afterwards, alas, the trip ended early with a big 'ol raging funk. Me in the decidedly unhappy crosshairs. The more things change, the more they stay the same. My interstate vacating karma had slid suddenly and precipitously into the dark side. So, goodbye AZ. Apparently, our semi-dead lawn is contributing a lot of bad Feng Shui to my life...then seeping into the house from outside and hitching a ride into another state. Sounds serious, doesn't it? Is that even possible? Who knows. Glad I'm not superstitious.
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