Flotsam:
wool socks
hoodies
sundry unders
toothbrush
toothpaste
FLOSS
tevas
lint
magnesium
flannel jeans
I might wake up all sweaty, but at least I'll be cozy?
water clothes
poles
wood
coffee pot
blankets
more blankets
bedroll
neosporin
t-shirts
chair
I am utterly unprepared.
And still...doing things.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
A Poem
Ok, kids.
I have things to do.
I also have things to say, but I need time for them to gel inside my mind. If you're thinking I had every day since Thursday to gel, remember that school started this week, and please cut me some slack.
To tide you over, I leave you this poem, which I studied back at IU.
Cornelius Eady:
I have things to do.
I also have things to say, but I need time for them to gel inside my mind. If you're thinking I had every day since Thursday to gel, remember that school started this week, and please cut me some slack.
To tide you over, I leave you this poem, which I studied back at IU.
Cornelius Eady:
THE DANCE
When the world ends,
I will be in a red dress.
When the world ends,
I will be in a smoky bar
.....on Friday night.
When the world ends,
I will be a thought-cloud.
When the world ends,
I will be steam in a tea kettle.
When the world ends,
I will be a sunbeam through
.....a lead window,
And I will shake like the
.....semis on the interstate,
And I will shake like the tree
.....kissed by lightning,
And I will move; the earth will move
.....too,
And I will move; the cities will move
.....too,
And I will move, with the remains of
.....my last paycheck in my pocket.
It will be Friday night
And I will be in a red dress,
My feet relieved of duty,
My body in free-fall,
Loose as a ballerina
.....in zero gravity,
Equal at last with feathers
.....and dust,
As the world faints and tumbles
.....down the stairs,
The jukebox is overtaken at last,
And the cicadas, under the eaves,
.....warm up their legs.
I will be in a red dress.
When the world ends,
I will be in a smoky bar
.....on Friday night.
When the world ends,
I will be a thought-cloud.
When the world ends,
I will be steam in a tea kettle.
When the world ends,
I will be a sunbeam through
.....a lead window,
And I will shake like the
.....semis on the interstate,
And I will shake like the tree
.....kissed by lightning,
And I will move; the earth will move
.....too,
And I will move; the cities will move
.....too,
And I will move, with the remains of
.....my last paycheck in my pocket.
It will be Friday night
And I will be in a red dress,
My feet relieved of duty,
My body in free-fall,
Loose as a ballerina
.....in zero gravity,
Equal at last with feathers
.....and dust,
As the world faints and tumbles
.....down the stairs,
The jukebox is overtaken at last,
And the cicadas, under the eaves,
.....warm up their legs.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Certified Dental Patient
That's me.
In this post, you'll receive more information about what to include in your kit. Read on.
I have the benefit of four free teeth cleanings per year, and boy howdy I intend to use them up until the world ends or until I leave the great state of Nevada to return to my roots.
When your dentist has, in the past, actively yelled at you, you get the fear of dentures in your heart and you floss like you've never flossed before in your natural life.
So yesterday, when I peeled myself up from the Island of Couch, where I lounged airing the house and listening to no other soundtrack but the rain (it was a glorious day, what with the rain), it was with apprehension. I feared that Steve would make me bleed and lecture me about the floss.
When, as a teacher, I stand up in front of a group of thirteen-year-olds and tell them a classic story about my life ("Kids, as I sat in the NBC studios and watched Mike give a weather report in front of the green screen, I couldn't help but be reminded of the horse I rode up the slope of Cotopaxi in Quito..."), I am well aware that my audience is captive, and I am glad of it.
I wonder if Steve feels the same. In the past three months, he has become, in my opinion, a kinder, gentler, dentist. He used the word, "healthy" and revealed to me part of the plot of his novel-in-progress. He also writes and illustrates children's books. "If he ever takes the suction thingie out of my mouth," I thought, "I will mention that I remember that he has a son, what little crumb snatcher was running around in here playing a video game back in June." However, before I had the chance, he used the words, "court" and "custody battle," and I decided not to mention any memory of the child. The child is seven years old and enjoys the movie Wild Hogs.
When I revealed that I blog about the Impending Apocalypse, Steve admitted that he has guns and food storage. I therefore felt comfortable enough to ask him what supplies are most important for our teeth in the event there's no longer a dentist's office.
1. Start swishing with fluoride rinse now, kids, before it's too late! After Listerine and other brands like it are no longer available, rinsing with water will also go a long way towards allowing us to continue to chew our food and therefore stay alive.
2. Steve recommends a dental scaler. He says it helps to have some training in order to avoid scraping enamel off of the teeth, which would make your post-apocalypse problems worse instead of better.
3. "Ugh!" I said. "Imagine having to pull a tooth!" He said that as long as they were well-boiled...in a real pinch...and remember you have NO EXCUSE to do it before the apocalypse...pliers would do the trick.
BUT! The real trick would be to prevent needing to go to such drastic extremes by...
4. you guessed it: brushing and flossing. Brushing can be done without toothpaste.
Finally, as an afterthought as I was paying my bill, Steve mentioned that it would be good to have one of those little
5. dental mirrors.
So there you have it. Five more things with which to stock your bag.
In this post, you'll receive more information about what to include in your kit. Read on.
I have the benefit of four free teeth cleanings per year, and boy howdy I intend to use them up until the world ends or until I leave the great state of Nevada to return to my roots.
When your dentist has, in the past, actively yelled at you, you get the fear of dentures in your heart and you floss like you've never flossed before in your natural life.
So yesterday, when I peeled myself up from the Island of Couch, where I lounged airing the house and listening to no other soundtrack but the rain (it was a glorious day, what with the rain), it was with apprehension. I feared that Steve would make me bleed and lecture me about the floss.
When, as a teacher, I stand up in front of a group of thirteen-year-olds and tell them a classic story about my life ("Kids, as I sat in the NBC studios and watched Mike give a weather report in front of the green screen, I couldn't help but be reminded of the horse I rode up the slope of Cotopaxi in Quito..."), I am well aware that my audience is captive, and I am glad of it.
I wonder if Steve feels the same. In the past three months, he has become, in my opinion, a kinder, gentler, dentist. He used the word, "healthy" and revealed to me part of the plot of his novel-in-progress. He also writes and illustrates children's books. "If he ever takes the suction thingie out of my mouth," I thought, "I will mention that I remember that he has a son, what little crumb snatcher was running around in here playing a video game back in June." However, before I had the chance, he used the words, "court" and "custody battle," and I decided not to mention any memory of the child. The child is seven years old and enjoys the movie Wild Hogs.
When I revealed that I blog about the Impending Apocalypse, Steve admitted that he has guns and food storage. I therefore felt comfortable enough to ask him what supplies are most important for our teeth in the event there's no longer a dentist's office.
1. Start swishing with fluoride rinse now, kids, before it's too late! After Listerine and other brands like it are no longer available, rinsing with water will also go a long way towards allowing us to continue to chew our food and therefore stay alive.
2. Steve recommends a dental scaler. He says it helps to have some training in order to avoid scraping enamel off of the teeth, which would make your post-apocalypse problems worse instead of better.
3. "Ugh!" I said. "Imagine having to pull a tooth!" He said that as long as they were well-boiled...in a real pinch...and remember you have NO EXCUSE to do it before the apocalypse...pliers would do the trick.
BUT! The real trick would be to prevent needing to go to such drastic extremes by...
4. you guessed it: brushing and flossing. Brushing can be done without toothpaste.
Finally, as an afterthought as I was paying my bill, Steve mentioned that it would be good to have one of those little
5. dental mirrors.
So there you have it. Five more things with which to stock your bag.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
That Time Again
This short post is merely to affirm what we already knew: the Mojave Desert is not a place ideally suited for human habitation.
We learned this late last night when, upon walking into Miss Gokey's dwelling, we discovered the AC blowing wildly in an attempt to cool the house to a pre-set 85. It was blowing hot air, and the internal temperature of the house was...99.
The poor thing had to sleep over here, on the lone couch which is an island in a sea of school-paper.
I told Krista today that in the event of catastrophe, we must surely just curl up on the ground and wait to perish.
I told her that when she stopped by to sit on the Island of Lone Couch and behold the sea of school-paper. I've long been a fan of the drop-by, ever since my first one back in October 2000. Today, I got some souvenirs (I typed "swag" first but deleted it because let's face it, I'm not that cool) from the Harry S. Truman museum and library in Independence, MO.
Now that I as a human have become spoiled to air conditioning, it is necessary to my survival in the Mojave.
You know what state doesn't have this problem? Indiana! At least, that's what my mind tells me as I RUN back to the house from the mailbox half a block away, because I forgot to bring my Nalgene bottle with me. Last week, when I received ice trays in the mail from Wisconsin, I decided to make meals out of ice cubes made of juice.
In conclusion, I am ready to go back to school tomorrow. There's nothing like walking into a house where the air is nearly boiling to make a person appreciate the nice cool recirculated air in a building jointly supported by taxpayer and casino money. This year, I resolve to give the people what they pay for. Power to the people. And freon. Power and freon for us all.
Just so you know, loyal readers...
you are welcome to come visit, any time.
We learned this late last night when, upon walking into Miss Gokey's dwelling, we discovered the AC blowing wildly in an attempt to cool the house to a pre-set 85. It was blowing hot air, and the internal temperature of the house was...99.
The poor thing had to sleep over here, on the lone couch which is an island in a sea of school-paper.
I told Krista today that in the event of catastrophe, we must surely just curl up on the ground and wait to perish.
I told her that when she stopped by to sit on the Island of Lone Couch and behold the sea of school-paper. I've long been a fan of the drop-by, ever since my first one back in October 2000. Today, I got some souvenirs (I typed "swag" first but deleted it because let's face it, I'm not that cool) from the Harry S. Truman museum and library in Independence, MO.
Now that I as a human have become spoiled to air conditioning, it is necessary to my survival in the Mojave.
You know what state doesn't have this problem? Indiana! At least, that's what my mind tells me as I RUN back to the house from the mailbox half a block away, because I forgot to bring my Nalgene bottle with me. Last week, when I received ice trays in the mail from Wisconsin, I decided to make meals out of ice cubes made of juice.
In conclusion, I am ready to go back to school tomorrow. There's nothing like walking into a house where the air is nearly boiling to make a person appreciate the nice cool recirculated air in a building jointly supported by taxpayer and casino money. This year, I resolve to give the people what they pay for. Power to the people. And freon. Power and freon for us all.
Just so you know, loyal readers...
you are welcome to come visit, any time.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Water.
Now that the glorious seven-day weekend is drawing to a close, it's time to turn my teacher-mind toward maps.
I found a map for today's topic, but it had no key.
How utterly useless, and still somehow poetically Jakob Dylan-ish!
No map for you, readers.
If there was a map, it would have been for water use.
I returned to what Diane Raines describes in Water Wars as a "water-sucking desert nightmare" a week and a day ago. Every day since, I have averaged 96 oz of H2O. It's not sustainable. Once school starts, I will be accountable to a very strict schedule for when I can use the facilities. A first-hour prep makes this an even more glaring problem. In addition, it can't be good for the bathtub ring (image available on 'Location...' post).
Because the place where I'm currently living is what I consider to be an untenable walking distance from the lake, especially if I don't have enough water to get me there (and let's be honest kids, 64 oz. wasn't enough to get me the 1.5 miles up to Mary Jane falls, so...), water is the thing I worry about the MOST in the event of a major catastrophe.
Water is important. So, while I was gathering provisions and passed the September issue of Backpacker magazine with the teaser, "Dying of Thirst! How to find water anywhere," on the cover, I just had to buy it.
APPARENTLY, a Backpacker staff writer who calls himself Drop Dead Ted field-tested various methods of conjuring water. I had never heard of these methods. Maybe you haven't, either. I'll pass them along.
The first method Ted discusses is self-explanatory: dew harvesting. He says, "sopping up dew yielded the most water for the least effort." Done! Except...oh, wait. Mojave Desert. Right.
Method #2 is a solar still, whereby you still need a "motley source of moist earth (darn!)" in which to bury your bottle, which after about 4.5 hours the sun will condense into 1/4 cup of water. Even if I had access to moist earth, 1/4 cup of water = 2 oz.
Method #3: Transpiration bag. This way consists of tying a plastic bag around the branch of a tree (wait, branch of...what?), waiting 4.5 hours and then drinking your 3 teaspoons of water out of the corner of your Ziplock.
Two other gems from this one-page text-and-graphic:
- Keep your clothes on and
- Do NOT drink your pee.
But, because hope springs eternal in the human breast (thank you, Alexander Pope), I refuse to believe that I will simply lay down and die a dehydrated death.
Plan B: Hope that disaster strikes at SCHOOL. Use whatever gas remains in my car to drive to Valley of Fire and jump into Mouse's Tank. It's a pretty good plan, if I do say so myself. Mostly hidden from predators (excepting snakes and scorpions) and such.
What's your "plan B?"
A basic tenet of preparedness is to have physical, not just digital copies, of the reading material that you will need to build your life anew. So...do I recommend that you run out and get Backpacker's September issue? Nah. Mostly the magazine is ads and product reviews.
Pardon me while I attempt to navigate the synaptic pathways back into teacherspeak: you won't need recall for the information in this article. Recognition will suffice. You'll see a tree (a what?), and because you are in survival mode, your brain will whisper, "plastic bag." Like Tai Chi with the automaticity &tc.
Pardon me while I attempt to navigate the synaptic pathways back into teacherspeak: you won't need recall for the information in this article. Recognition will suffice. You'll see a tree (a what?), and because you are in survival mode, your brain will whisper, "plastic bag." Like Tai Chi with the automaticity &tc.
That "nah" answer changes, however, as most answers do, if you're a geography teacher.
Page 55 features a map called Chart of Death: Animal Attacks, which is going under my document camera here in just a few short days. If you want one, let me know.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Under the Influence
I have a built-in post for Thursday because of the auspicious coincidence that created this post. You see, a year or so ago I stumbled upon the heartwarming ABC Family show GREEK on Netflix. I watched it faithfully, and recently, my friend Dana said that she was watching it, and I vowed to watch the series again. It was originally Sara Oberle's influence that prompted Dana to watch the show.
Last night I cued up the series and the episode where I left off was propitiously titled...At World's End. The episode starts with Durer's The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse:
and the words, "The End of the World! War! Famine! Pestilence! and Death!"
Can you tell which is which? Here's what the Met has to say about the Four Horsemen:
"Transforming what was a relatively staid and unthreatening image in earlier illustrated Bibles, Dürer injects motion and danger into this climactic moment through his subtle manipulation of the woodcut. The parallel lines across the image establish a basic middle tone against which the artist silhouettes and overlaps the powerful forms of the four horses and riders—from left to right, Death, Famine, War, and Plague (or Pestilence). "
Which is weird, because on SUNDAY night, on the way back from the airport to retrieve Miss Gokey for a five-hour layover that involved the world's most delicious 2:00 a.m. dump cake, I saw giant metal sheep and horses along I-15 and said, "It's the horsemen of the apocalypse!" Akwardly googling "horse sculptures on I-15 Las Vegas" yielded this explanation.
The episode continues with Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights:
Curse you, wikipedia! If you are interested, what you need to do is grab that paper copy of the Prado's catalog of major works that you're using now to stabilize your kitchen chair, and look at the details under a magnifying glass. The Prado's website has this to say about the Garden:
"The central panel gives its name to the entire piece, representing a garden of life’s delights or pleasures. Between paradise and hell, these delights are nothing more than allusions to sin, showing humankind dedicated to diverse worldly pleasures. There are clear and strongly erotic representations of lust, along with others, whose meanings are more enigmatic. The fleeting beauty of flowers and the sweetness of fruit transmit a message of fragility and the ephemeral character of happiness and enjoyment. This seems to be corroborated by certain groups, such as the couple enclosed in a crystal ball on the left, which probably alludes to the popular Flemish saying: “happiness is like glass, it soon breaks.”
The premise of the At World's End episode is an End of the World party the starring fraternity throws right before its social calendar is suspended as the result of a prank. As the brothers are choosing the theme, one of them hilariously throws his arms into the air and yells, "YEAH! ART HISTORY, BABY!" And that's one of the many reasons why I love ABC Family. Obviously, if you have not previously enjoyed the show, watching just the At World's End episode will not be enjoyable for you.
Other than the fact that this episode exists, there is not much to tell. The president of the show's starring fraternity makes a particularly moving toast: "Good riddance to the things we hate. May we not miss the things we love."
At World's End is the season finale. The season premiere for Chapter 5 is called, "The Day After."
The cast of GREEK gets a day after...will we? Muahaha. In THAT episode, the conservative roommate of the show's central character has an even better quote:
"The first rule of living every day like the world's gonna end is to make sure the world actually ends."
And on that happy note, I believe that I still have some leftover dump cake.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
The Best Reference Book Ever!
I am back in Las Vegas and I have just finished my 94th ounce of water for the day. It's a sunny 105 (but it's a dry heat!), or it WAS. It seems to be trying to rain now, but it's still like an oven outside. I'm inside under the ceiling fan with all the curtains shut tight, practicing. James Wesley Rawles says that in the event of an epic disaster, it's best not to let people know that you are alive, lest they try to take whatever you're using to keep yourself alive for their own selves.
Once again, he's right.
I managed to make it to page 95 of David Werner's Where There is No Doctor on the airplane yesterday, before conking out just like 6-year-old Jeremiah, who was sitting next to me and also conked out.
Werner's book is very entertaining thanks to advice like the following:
"Do not waste your money at 'magic centers' that claim to cure witchcraft. And do not seek revenge against a witch, because it will not solve anything. If you are seriously ill, go for medical help. (5)"
But I also recommend it because of what I have seen so far, which includes: fever charts. An attractive two-page spread describes the different fever patterns of various sicknesses.
Page 31 has an illustrated tutorial on how to read a thermometer. This reminded me that I do not even own a thermometer for my apocalypse kit. It's a good thing that I'm going to venture out into the anemic rain for provisions here in a bit.
There is a very useful page on the signs of dangerous illnesses, and page 43 has some good advice about sending for medical help: Never send a small child or a fool.
The book was originally written for villagers in the mountains of Mexico, and it is intended for use by community health educators in places like those. Sad, really, a lot of the information that is emphasized. To those of us in the developed world, it seems like common sense, or addresses problems that we just don't seem to have.
We do have our problems here in the developed world, though, and in just the beginning of the book, I have already read several times about how health problems are caused by greed and uneven resource distribution, and some health problems that people seek medicine for are actually better treated at home. That's information we can all use.
I'll have to finish it before I can say for certain, but for the moment I say that if you have $15 laying around, this one might just be worth having.
Once again, he's right.
I managed to make it to page 95 of David Werner's Where There is No Doctor on the airplane yesterday, before conking out just like 6-year-old Jeremiah, who was sitting next to me and also conked out.
Werner's book is very entertaining thanks to advice like the following:
"Do not waste your money at 'magic centers' that claim to cure witchcraft. And do not seek revenge against a witch, because it will not solve anything. If you are seriously ill, go for medical help. (5)"
But I also recommend it because of what I have seen so far, which includes: fever charts. An attractive two-page spread describes the different fever patterns of various sicknesses.
Page 31 has an illustrated tutorial on how to read a thermometer. This reminded me that I do not even own a thermometer for my apocalypse kit. It's a good thing that I'm going to venture out into the anemic rain for provisions here in a bit.
There is a very useful page on the signs of dangerous illnesses, and page 43 has some good advice about sending for medical help: Never send a small child or a fool.
The book was originally written for villagers in the mountains of Mexico, and it is intended for use by community health educators in places like those. Sad, really, a lot of the information that is emphasized. To those of us in the developed world, it seems like common sense, or addresses problems that we just don't seem to have.
We do have our problems here in the developed world, though, and in just the beginning of the book, I have already read several times about how health problems are caused by greed and uneven resource distribution, and some health problems that people seek medicine for are actually better treated at home. That's information we can all use.
I'll have to finish it before I can say for certain, but for the moment I say that if you have $15 laying around, this one might just be worth having.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
One Last Adventure: Pick N Pull Photo Essay
For my last full day in Indiana until December (unless something drastic happens), I was happy to go with my Dad to the Pick-N-Pull junkyard. This was the first trip to the junkyard in my life. I think.
I thought this would be a good opportunity to take some photos of what might be an apocalyptic landscape, and to see what the junkyard will offer after our impending doom. For now (I'm sure they'll charge more when the need for their services is more acute thanks to the end of the world), there is a $2 entrance fee to try your luck and see if any of the cars in the vast lot have what you want. In our case, we were looking for a tailgate for an 03 Mazda Tribute - if anyone knows where to find one for less than $300, let me know.
The lady at the entrance checks to make sure you're wearing real shoes with real toes, takes your money and stamps your hand like nickel night at the Bluebird.
The whole place smells like burnt metal and spent fireworks and looks like this and this:
(that's my dad).
Something tells me that the Highway at the End of the Road will be far less organized.
Instead of finding insight into the apocalypse, I mostly found components that an artist could use to make some really cool installations. Items included lots of taillights (they seem to remove those and display them for easy picking) and miscellaneous bolts. I am not an artist, but anyone who is can find a lot of fodder here.
Three years ago this past April, I emptied the contents of my 1993 Subaru Impreza into a series of little plastic Carmax bags and said goodbye to the vessel that contained many of my life's most significant memories. It struck me that each of the cars in the junkyard had a similar story to Sidney the Subaru's.
(The various heartwarming bumper stickers were what drove home this sad point the most.)
And here, for no apparent reason except that it's cool, is a good(ish) view of Hammond's 9-span bridge. Check the background.
I realize that for my readers, trips to the junkyard have already been a part of life, instead of being a contemplative exercise on the End of the World, like it was for me.
The Pick N Pull keeps the cars for a set amount of days before sending them next door to be crushed into cubes-of-metal-formerly-shaped-like-cars. Hopefully, wherever Sidney the 93 Subaru is tonight, it will be a long time before she ends up in a place like this.
At the end of the morning, we did not find what we needed at the Pick-N-Pull. Maybe a similar place has some insight for you, loyal readers. In the meantime, please visit that Subaru link and take a moment to vote for a charity to take part in the Share the Love event.
Happy picking!
The lady at the entrance checks to make sure you're wearing real shoes with real toes, takes your money and stamps your hand like nickel night at the Bluebird.
Something tells me that the Highway at the End of the Road will be far less organized.
Instead of finding insight into the apocalypse, I mostly found components that an artist could use to make some really cool installations. Items included lots of taillights (they seem to remove those and display them for easy picking) and miscellaneous bolts. I am not an artist, but anyone who is can find a lot of fodder here.
Three years ago this past April, I emptied the contents of my 1993 Subaru Impreza into a series of little plastic Carmax bags and said goodbye to the vessel that contained many of my life's most significant memories. It struck me that each of the cars in the junkyard had a similar story to Sidney the Subaru's.
(The various heartwarming bumper stickers were what drove home this sad point the most.)
And here, for no apparent reason except that it's cool, is a good(ish) view of Hammond's 9-span bridge. Check the background.
The Pick N Pull keeps the cars for a set amount of days before sending them next door to be crushed into cubes-of-metal-formerly-shaped-like-cars. Hopefully, wherever Sidney the 93 Subaru is tonight, it will be a long time before she ends up in a place like this.
At the end of the morning, we did not find what we needed at the Pick-N-Pull. Maybe a similar place has some insight for you, loyal readers. In the meantime, please visit that Subaru link and take a moment to vote for a charity to take part in the Share the Love event.
Happy picking!
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Time is Running Out!
time to compose my post, that is1as you can see from the lack of capitalization and end punctuation, i am composing this post on my ailing t mobile sidekick, beezlebub.
i just cannot tear myself away from the women's individual gymnastics and now|swimming.
i also cant see any cursor communicating is going to prove difficult for me.
time is also running out because there are less than three weeks left of my seven day weekend, before i report back to the front lines of public education in america.
dare i mention it? at this point, it should be self-explanatory: time to learn the skills that will help us thrive in the upcoming New World Economy...is running out.
I think me figuring out how to effectively use
the buttons on Beezlebub to write a blog post is one of the horsemen, isn't it?
What Have We Learned?
Well, from evaluating Dana's readiness, I have learned (as if I didn't already know it)that I
............................................................................................................................................................
I couldn't take it! I had to get up from in front of the TV and switch to the real computer before my phone met with an unfortunate accident involving the bow window. >[
I have learned as if I didn't know it already that, in no uncertain terms, I am ready to move to a place within easy walking distance of a large body of fresh water so that I can not only stay alive but also to, as Miss Gokey says, "Calm my anguish." I'm just putting that fact out to the Sensei in hopes that the Sensei will send me a magic banana.
So, I've been doing that. I've also nearly finished the first skein of yarn that I wrote about so long ago, about a month ago. If the Status Quo Economy survives to the Christmas season, I think I'll be buying my scarf-presents, not making them.
I have become close to obsessed with the idea of apple cider, and I resolve to make it in the fall.
Finally, I have been practicing using a specimen of post-automobilism transportation excellence by riding around on a Collegiate bicycle from the 1970s. The blue one is mine.
So, I'm getting ready to go: down the trail, back to school, to a lake.
And you should be, too. On that happy note, I remind you to check out The Wannabe while you're trolling the blogosphere today. Krista is offering travel tips, and she should have good ones: she's composing from China!
One week from today I won't be cycling anymore, because I'll be away from the flat land.
I'll be back in Las Vegas. Between here and there is a plane ride during which I will dive into a very juicy book that I can't wait to review for you all.
See how much I love you, loyal readers, that I would tear myself away from what may possibly be the last Olympics that the world will see within our lifetimes?
Oh, and as a final note: I heard that zombies dig on the brains of people who eat lots of Chik-Fil-A because their brains are nice and fat. And that's all I'll say about that.
i just cannot tear myself away from the women's individual gymnastics and now|swimming.
i also cant see any cursor communicating is going to prove difficult for me.
time is also running out because there are less than three weeks left of my seven day weekend, before i report back to the front lines of public education in america.
dare i mention it? at this point, it should be self-explanatory: time to learn the skills that will help us thrive in the upcoming New World Economy...is running out.
I think me figuring out how to effectively use
the buttons on Beezlebub to write a blog post is one of the horsemen, isn't it?
What Have We Learned?
Well, from evaluating Dana's readiness, I have learned (as if I didn't already know it)that I
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I couldn't take it! I had to get up from in front of the TV and switch to the real computer before my phone met with an unfortunate accident involving the bow window. >[
I have learned as if I didn't know it already that, in no uncertain terms, I am ready to move to a place within easy walking distance of a large body of fresh water so that I can not only stay alive but also to, as Miss Gokey says, "Calm my anguish." I'm just putting that fact out to the Sensei in hopes that the Sensei will send me a magic banana.
So, I've been doing that. I've also nearly finished the first skein of yarn that I wrote about so long ago, about a month ago. If the Status Quo Economy survives to the Christmas season, I think I'll be buying my scarf-presents, not making them.
I have become close to obsessed with the idea of apple cider, and I resolve to make it in the fall.
Finally, I have been practicing using a specimen of post-automobilism transportation excellence by riding around on a Collegiate bicycle from the 1970s. The blue one is mine.
So, I'm getting ready to go: down the trail, back to school, to a lake.
And you should be, too. On that happy note, I remind you to check out The Wannabe while you're trolling the blogosphere today. Krista is offering travel tips, and she should have good ones: she's composing from China!
One week from today I won't be cycling anymore, because I'll be away from the flat land.
I'll be back in Las Vegas. Between here and there is a plane ride during which I will dive into a very juicy book that I can't wait to review for you all.
See how much I love you, loyal readers, that I would tear myself away from what may possibly be the last Olympics that the world will see within our lifetimes?
Oh, and as a final note: I heard that zombies dig on the brains of people who eat lots of Chik-Fil-A because their brains are nice and fat. And that's all I'll say about that.
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