O Solo Mio
Meredith is off again digging up the dirt on some people who have been dead for thousands of years.
So, yesterday I celebrated by firing up the Vespa and doing some bike trail recon looking for a way down from Beacon hill that doesn't involve the Holgate freeway overpass, which is steep rough and has a low (from a bicycle seat perspective, anyway) guard rail.
Scary!
Seems possible to use the Spokane St. route.
After which I scooted on up to my fave spot on Q.A. then headed home.
Partway there, I made a sudden u-turn and headed out towards Ballard and Shilshole,
then back to Q.A., making it a 45 mile jaunt.
That ought to charge it's little battery!
Meredith has the car, so the scooter is my default transportation for the duration.
(could use the van, but the scooter is more fun and gets 80 mpg).
Q.E.D. I had too much coffee yesterday
Then spent the rest of the day rebuilding my latest Duke map that I lost when I inadvertently saved it in a wrong format.
I still have it, but I can't use it.
Had to do it from memory, (the one in my head, not the computers).
Actually got to bed before 1:00 AM this time.
But the new version is better.
So, no poetry today.
Just the mundane.
So, yesterday I celebrated by firing up the Vespa and doing some bike trail recon looking for a way down from Beacon hill that doesn't involve the Holgate freeway overpass, which is steep rough and has a low (from a bicycle seat perspective, anyway) guard rail.
Scary!
Seems possible to use the Spokane St. route.
After which I scooted on up to my fave spot on Q.A. then headed home.
Partway there, I made a sudden u-turn and headed out towards Ballard and Shilshole,
then back to Q.A., making it a 45 mile jaunt.
That ought to charge it's little battery!
Meredith has the car, so the scooter is my default transportation for the duration.
(could use the van, but the scooter is more fun and gets 80 mpg).
Q.E.D. I had too much coffee yesterday
Then spent the rest of the day rebuilding my latest Duke map that I lost when I inadvertently saved it in a wrong format.
I still have it, but I can't use it.
Had to do it from memory, (the one in my head, not the computers).
Actually got to bed before 1:00 AM this time.
But the new version is better.
So, no poetry today.
Just the mundane.
posted by Lane Savant at 10:25 AM
7 Comments:
So what happens when it rains like
hell? The Vespa cam be less than
ideal in in climate weather.
How long will Meredith be gone,
and where are the digs?
I am still wrestling with my
funding sources. The Office
of Personal Management back
east has decided if I pay the
government $1,080, they will
add $65 bucks to every monthly
check for life; so in 16 months
I started slurping the gravy.
The Thrift Savings Plan 401K
people finally are sending me
a monthly check, after 10 weeks
and 5 attempts at filling out their
application "properly", but of
course, they are not taking any
income tax out of it. So I guess
I have to send them a W-4P
form and ask for married but
filing as single. Damn, ain't we
got fun? Taking a clue from
you, I changed my facebook
profile photo twice today.
Went out to see a movie at
1:50pm and found the theater
closed; no early afternoon screenings
I guess, except on week ends.
So I stopped at BLOCKBUSTER,
the last great extant video store,
and picked up 8 used DVD's
for the Buttkus Collection.
Did you get the card in the snail
mail from the new Sealth International
High School opening? When we
finally get some face time, maybe
we could buzz over there and
check it out? You did so well
with your last poem, one could
wait a day or so before unleashing
another mini-opus on the world.
Hallo, Glenn!
Sounds like the O.P.M. made you an offer you can't refuse (& not the kind Vinnie makes!)!! Unless Vinnie rubsa youze out before 16.6
months, you'll make more by accepting it than you'll lose.
With great envy,
Tschüß,
Anonomann
Yeah Anonomann, sounds like
you know your OPM stuff, 16 months
it is, and then
I will smile every month there after.
Just got off the horn with TSP
since they send me my 401K
payment sans income tax withdrawal.
The "official" side of dealing
with the accountants, clerks,
and divers others at
Social Security,
The Department of Veteran's Affairs,
Office of Personal Management,
Thrift Savings Plan.
Federal Employee Retirement System
and one's own spouse,
drove me nearly to distraction
for a few furtive months--
but now it appears to be under
a semblance of control, just blood
under the bridge, as they say.
Vinnie gave me some advice
but I chose to disregard it.
Glennface, youse a dumbass punk
for not heeding my woids der.
But den, we all hav two make
our own mis-steaks, and den
deel wid da consiequensus.
..............Vinnie
I am still so pleased that my
beloved Douglas has decided
to put his mind to poetry.
As you, Glenn, have pointed out
ad infinitum, he has always had
this capacity, he just needed someone
to urge him on, cajole him, and to
give him the confidence to compete.
............Emily
I have always pictured him as an
American Primitive, an artist with
knives, hammers, wrenches,
schematics, and his artwork first
took the form of the automobile.
Damn shame they have all been
sold or scrapped or forgotten.
What an Art Show they would
have made. The art critics
would have soiled themselves
looking at all of them in one
gallery on one night--and over
in the corner Doug could sit
carving on his hand-made musical
instruments, and selling them
as art, practical art.
.............Eddie Emerald
Well, if your pattern persists, this
being the hump of the week,
if you do not have your
music class today, or even
if you do, something new
will appear as Posting, and
this string of comments
will become as stale as
old bread left out for the
rodents, insects, and battalions
of mold cells. Still, it is what
exists, Monday's posting, and
so I find myself still pecking
away, regardless of the outcome.
I finally had the film club
Executive meeting last night
and it was well attended, and
there was a lot of "work" that
got done, a lot of laughing,
and consuming of cheese
and micro-brews, sitting
out on a members covered
patio, watching one of her
three cats bring forth a
mouse freshly caught, to
torture and kill in front of
us; kind of surrealistic during
the meeting. I got hung up
on posting more things from
FFTR over on FB notes last
night, and became exhausted
at 1 am. I wrote a haiku, sort of,
yesterday:
Exit Strategy
Is there poetry after death?
Of course there is,
death is poetry.
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