Mille Miglia
Man, I cant believe it takes a half hour just to read 2 e-mails and finally get this piece of junk machine to let me on to this page.
Phooey!
Anyway, I didn't find a cave and hibernate as I hinted yesterday.
What I did do was strike out for a 25 mile ride which ended up a 66 mile ride.
I'd tell you more, but it takes 5 minutes to type each sentence, so I'll just post the stats.
Trip - 66.3 miles.
Time - 6:33:21 hours.
Average speed - 10.0 miles per hour.
Maximum speed - 34 miles per hour.
Total miles - 1018
Phooey!
Anyway, I didn't find a cave and hibernate as I hinted yesterday.
What I did do was strike out for a 25 mile ride which ended up a 66 mile ride.
I'd tell you more, but it takes 5 minutes to type each sentence, so I'll just post the stats.
Trip - 66.3 miles.
Time - 6:33:21 hours.
Average speed - 10.0 miles per hour.
Maximum speed - 34 miles per hour.
Total miles - 1018
posted by Lane Savant at 11:23 AM
6 Comments:
Nice to read and to see that the Palmer spirit has not plummeted. On the contrary, it has sprouted sockets, sprockets, thin wheels, tiny gears, hard seats, shoe locks, and whirling noises as the valiant Fidelio is pumped for 66 hard miles; coming to his stall soaked in honest sweat, needing to be walked for a few minutes to cool down, needing the damp and dusty quiet of the Savant basement to collect its thoughts and data, and begin preparations for the next foray.
Much as I hate to admit it, I am pleased with our new Super Mac computer; for it's fast, slick, and impervious to virus and glitch. To hell with Billy'sgate, and Allentown, for it is the apple that floats my cyber self. Perhaps it is time for you to shift, to shape shift, to make a leap to the other ran, number two, and see where it leads you, sir.
Just a few ticks now before I am off on the Highway of Tears home, to put the old frayed blue collar on Taffy, and lift her up into Minnie Pearl, our hybrid, and stroke her old head, and rub her old ears, as we pull closer and closer to her lethal injection, her dirt nap. I dreamed last night that since we see "visitors" within our home, and have done for 15 years, all the years of her life, she may just awaken and still be up in the living room, or in her old dog house, or at the foot of the bed. We will pay less attention to her, but it will be nice to get a glimpse of the blond bitch once in a while.
Christ, I went totally Alexie Bonkers today too, finding a bunch of poetry out there in Freeland, and posting them one at a time. I found some zingers pics to grave them as well; lots more fun than endeavoring to find poetry in Rod Stewart lyrics, enit? Oh by the way, he considers himself both Spokane and Cour De Lane, so you were not so far off last year when I chided you.
Glenn
Damn my clumsy fingers and rushed countenance. That would be "grace" the poems and essays and interviews, not "grave" them. How dumb we all become with our flying digits, squeezing the odd moment out of our day to blog like a bastard, to comment like a putz, to be inspired, to be brought down.
Sherman Alexie is 41 now. He pretty much missed the joy of the Viet Nam war and the Summer of Love. Reading all of this poems again, I find myself heavily under his spell, my old Indian wannabe, perhaps usedtabe soul tingling with the truth of his words.
Glenn
Sad, sad, sad, is the emotion of the day. Melva and I followed through and put Taffy down last night. The vet was very kind and explained how things would go. He gave her a tranqualizer first to put her unconscious, then the lethal dose of meds. She never made a sound, just drifted off as quietly as dropping a leaf on the floor. We, of course, burst into tears, and felt like guilt-ridden assholes for doing the deed. We were left in the room with her for a few minutes to say our good byes. We will retreive her ashes in two weeks, and Melva will spread them out in her spring garden next year. We had her 15 years. Habitually, as we pulled into the garage and walked into the backyard, we looked for her. I do hope to get a glimpse of her now and then in our spirit friendly domicile. Our reward for being "kind" and doing the "right thing" was the neighbor's dog was let out at 2:30am this morning, and he barked and howled for two hours before I left for work. Hopefully the same solid citizens who complained to the authorities about our pooch will finally direct their civic duty to Buddy, the German Shepherd that needs a bullet.
Glenn
Sorry to make this the Glenn Show, but I wanted to share this:
Sadness Squared
I felt it early this morning:
Death swirls around me
at this moment.
We had to put our 15 year old Taffy down
last night,
she of the cocker ears and shelty coat,
she of the beautiful face
and adoring eyes,
she who had become lame
and deaf and disease-ridden,
she who needed to take the long nap,
to awaken somewhere warm,
somewhere without pain,
full of brightness
and cheerful sounds of children,
of other dogs,
of birds.
We held her head
as she drifted off
to eternity,
and placed it gently on the floor.
She never made a sound,
not even a whimper.
Somehow she knew it was her time.
God bless the animals who love us
unconditionally.
Glenn Buttkus October 9, 2008
Some of us feel your pain, dude, and over here we are lready enjoying the tail wagging and face licking that Taffy is putting out. We will take good care of your pooch for you. Rest assured.
..........Eddy Emerald
I have never fully understood how the white eyes can get so mushy and emotional about their dog. Dogs are great to have around on a cold night, and when the cougar comes to visit, but they move on to the animal spirit land, and regenerate as something else, like all things. Save your tears. Look around you. There is plenty to really feel sad about in every corner of your world.
...........Geronimo
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