Friday, August 3

And onto the new domain

The boxes are mostly packed. The scattered remains should be just thrown out, but I know I won't. They'll get thrown into bags and pillow cases and tossed haphazardly into the back of the truck. It is always more comforting to carry your shit along with you.

Come see the new home of the blog: http://www.redspud.com/epilogue

Everything else Randy, et. al., can be found at RedSpud itself.

An evening on the pier

Last night we went down to the pier to listen to the Dusty 45s, a Rockabilly sort of swing band. I hate to categorize bands. I'm so horrible at it. They play that edgier, harder swing. Is that Rockabilly?

In any event, it was a beautiful night. The rain stayed tucked in the cloud cover and the wind died away shortly into the second set. It was the first time I've been out dancing since leaving Albuquerque. It wasn't more than a handful of songs, but it was so nice to get back out on a floor at all. We ended the evening hanging with my brother's crowd who were hanging with the band. It is interesting to listen in on another world's circle. The world of local bands is going strong. No more than a few percentage points of the region will hear any of it, but that makes no difference to them.

Wednesday, August 1

There is Water at the Bottom of the Ocean

As I've been told and as I've discovered myself, this particular blog hasn't been updated in many weeks. It seems like much longer than it has actually been. I was thinking that I may go cold turkey, plead the move, an increased level of activity, and general work-related issues as the reason it is down/gone/done. But I miss it. I miss thoughts and questions to post against this slick wall.

Take this morning, ten minutes ago, for example. Does one peel a mango before eating or do you just dive on in and eat the skin and all? I can't see how you can eat the skin. It just seems too tough and bitter to chew on. I'm blending fruit, wheat germ, and yogurt these days. Smoothies they seem to be called. This morning it was the remnants of a half flat of Strawberries minus those of mold and mush, a half peeled half unpeeled Mango, two mostly skinned Kiwi, a quarter cup of Wheat Germ, and a quarter cup of plain yogurt topped with ice and a splash of aqua.

I'm moving this blog, though. My days in Albuquerque are passed and I've been paying Spinn for dial-up service that I wasn't using simply because this space was convenient. I have another ten days on this server. I'll redirect all the activity as soon as I make the firm decision, which really should be in the next day or so if I'm going to be on the ball.

Much has been happening. The northwest is still lovely and full of opportunity. I'll have some nifty show and tell. When is it my turn?

Tuesday, June 26

Spread or Dollop?

I'm beginning to prefer a dollop of jam in the middle of the English Muffin instead of spreading it edge to edge. There it sits, atop a thin layer of butter replacement product, settling into the muffin's toasted wells. Each bite teases me with more of that raspberry goodness. Little did I know what I was missing! It may not have been compulsion. Surely it wasn't. I just didn't know any better. Where is there a book discussing the educate and protocols of pastry and muffin consumption? I fear that there are dozens of food variations just waiting for me to stumble upon them. I'd like into the inner circle, please.

Wednesday, June 20

On this solstice eve

We went out to the beach. It was minus tide and we were there to play in the muck and watch our part of the sound change direction. The water becomes very still when the tide changes. At least, that is what I always think that means.

It is Lesley's birthday today. Much happiness, cake, and well thought out gifts for you. I'd give out her Amazon wish list, but I think she divulges far too much information for her own good and I won't be party to such things unless I cannot help it.

Tuesday, June 19

Is that a fold or a rift?

I think it is a fold in space. Or, it will be referred to as a fold. Calling it a rift is too destructive and people won't buy into it. People would be like Bonnie in Star Trax. They'd use it, but hate it every time.

It is an amazingly simple concept and so much less messy than discombobulating the human body into its constituents, tagging them, and then doing the Lincoln Log thing on the other side. Instead, you just take wherever you happen to be at the time (I'm at my desk) and pinch a hole big enough for you to fit through (a Randy-sized hole, to continue the demonstration). Once you have that done, just push it around a bit until your pinching is flush against the Cinerama or Sears, as the case may be, and walk on over. With a bit of a wiggle, you can close it up behind you.

Maybe that's how those Trade Guild Navigators did it. Could that be what the Spice does for you? Does it expand your awareness to the fabric of space itself and allow you to grab a hold well enough to put your shoulder against it?

Tuesday, June 12

I'm in the club now

Today I received a bill from a credit card which I haven't used for well over a year. It looked like a bill anyway. Sure enough, when I opened it I saw $18.90 as the balance due. Another yearly fee, I thought. But what a strange number. I looked down at the itemized list. I had to read it twice, but there in clear print was a charge dated the fifth of May to an upstanding company by the name of PornoTherapy.org. 

Well that is different and new, I think. I pick up the phone, dial the 800 number and listen to the lady on the other end of the phone gasp as I describe my dilemma. Perhaps she was feigning, but probably not. The card was quickly disabled and a new one is winging its way toward me as we speak.

Aside from the means by which this unused card's proper information found its way into hard-up hands, I am amazed that there is but a single item charged to it. Perhaps one charge of a subtle amount wouldn't be noticed by the owner; perhaps there were enough erotic artifacts present to distract their attention; perhaps each card is used once and then tossed aside in favor of the next fresh one. Whatever the real reason, I am now part of the defrauded mass.

What should I bring to the next potluck?

Monday, June 11

This isn't Kansas, or Albuquerque

It has been almost a week. And now that week has turned to two and I am still astounded by what can only be described as a total blockage of what Seattle and the surrounding region has to offer. And with that, I am still completely giddy at our arrival. We are somewhat settled, though the digs aren't what we expected. Rent, as rumored and feared, is horrendous and we are completely tired of paying it. The goal now is settle into some long term mortgage at the earliest moment presented.

But for now, we are adjusting to an absence of sun bathed days, adjusting to a region full of possibilities, and adjusting to trees thick enough to dance a troupe around beneath skies of far reaching clouds. Today's morning was little different from yesterday, except the drops came harder and more frequently. Now, though, the clouds have shut up for the moment and the pavement is running dry. 

These couple days have been the exception. The day we drove down Snoqualmie pass, onto the I90 floating bridge, and through the tunnel that spits you into downtown Seattle was perfect in every way. The skies were clear and bright with just enough clouds to give it great texture, the sun played on the lakes and in the Sound and off the high glass buildings downtown. It must have been in the mid 70s and the air was filled damp and alive. It was Saturday morning and the traffic was all at home enjoying a lazy morning. 

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