Anybody figure out yet the stupor bowl is in NJ, not NY? And you have to take the worst train system on the planet to get there?
This morning, when it was 30-something degrees and not precipitating, not doing anything, really, just on the train line I use to get to work, we had two broken down trains, a faulty switch, a few more trains cancelled, and an hour delay in getting to NYC.
If they can't run a train system in decent weather, with normal traffic, what's going to happen when the weather is lousy (right now they expect rain on Sunday for the Big Game (TM)) and the traffic is ultra-busy/crazy/drunk?
I'm glad I don't need to go to work on Sundays. Weekdays are bad enough around here.
One good thing, tho - the Facebook thrashing of Long Branch mayor Adam Schneider got someone to actually wake up and clear the snow and ice off the streets in Long Branch around the hospital and train station. Score a big one for Facebook, and thanks for bringing up the subject, Jersey Shore Hurricane News. Good job!
Monday, January 27, 2014
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
snow for sure
Still coming down, and it started a couple/few hours earlier than scheduled, as if you can schedule such a thing. Left work early, got home around 4.00, none the worse for wear.
Cold out now, wind is kicking up, snow still falling, if you can call going sideways "falling." It does that around here, you'd think it might just keep going and land somewhere else.
It appears I still have the wind in a favorable direction, when I got home my yard was clear, as was the back deck, other than a little pile of snow at the bottom of the stairs, and a corner pile by the back door. So no back of the house shoveling required, so far. The front is a different story, there are ridges of snow and peaks and valleys, all quite picturesque. All in the way of getting my mail delivered until it either melts or I get around to moving it and shoveling a path across my front lawn for the mailman.
(The mail got delivered this morning before the snow came, and I was knee-deep on the front porch trying to retrieve it.)
Which is because the post office, in it's lack of wisdom and common sense, will not allow me to move my mailbox from the front porch, where it always has been, to the back by the driveway, where the mailman could fill it without getting out of his truck. And God forbid the mailman should actually use the sidewalk that goes from the street to the front door, where the mailbox is. No. He has to approach it from the side street, so he is always crossing the grass. And grass is not the easiest thing on earth to shovel.
Pablo came home with me and dove directly into his cave, haven't heard a peep out of him since. He's not a snow dog. And he's probably cold. But at least he's home.
Maybe in the morning I can get some pics of the snow piles upstairs. The wind shapes them in interesting ways, but you can't see them at night. I'll be staying home tomorrow in any event, especially since the trains are running on a reduced schedule (if at all). So I need artistic things to occupy me.
Sigh. I need a new life in a warmer climate. I'm sick of this stuff.
Cold out now, wind is kicking up, snow still falling, if you can call going sideways "falling." It does that around here, you'd think it might just keep going and land somewhere else.
It appears I still have the wind in a favorable direction, when I got home my yard was clear, as was the back deck, other than a little pile of snow at the bottom of the stairs, and a corner pile by the back door. So no back of the house shoveling required, so far. The front is a different story, there are ridges of snow and peaks and valleys, all quite picturesque. All in the way of getting my mail delivered until it either melts or I get around to moving it and shoveling a path across my front lawn for the mailman.
(The mail got delivered this morning before the snow came, and I was knee-deep on the front porch trying to retrieve it.)
Which is because the post office, in it's lack of wisdom and common sense, will not allow me to move my mailbox from the front porch, where it always has been, to the back by the driveway, where the mailman could fill it without getting out of his truck. And God forbid the mailman should actually use the sidewalk that goes from the street to the front door, where the mailbox is. No. He has to approach it from the side street, so he is always crossing the grass. And grass is not the easiest thing on earth to shovel.
Pablo came home with me and dove directly into his cave, haven't heard a peep out of him since. He's not a snow dog. And he's probably cold. But at least he's home.
Maybe in the morning I can get some pics of the snow piles upstairs. The wind shapes them in interesting ways, but you can't see them at night. I'll be staying home tomorrow in any event, especially since the trains are running on a reduced schedule (if at all). So I need artistic things to occupy me.
Sigh. I need a new life in a warmer climate. I'm sick of this stuff.
Monday, January 20, 2014
snow again?
Supposedly snow is coming tomorrow. At the moment, there is nothing even close to us, so I'm not sure where this is going to come from. But we'll see. The good news, so far, is the governator hasn't declared a state of panic yet. Last time it snowed he declared a state of panic two days prior to the storm, which then didn't add up to anything near what he had everybody afraid of. His new motto: Scareder than the Storm.
Going to work in any event. I need to make some actual money, for a change. I'll take my shovel, put it in the back of the car. That ought to keep the snow away. Having an umbrella in the car usually works to keep the rain away. Worth a try, anyhow.
Today was a work at home day, I actually got some stuff done, then took Pablo for his annual check up, lube and oil change. He got a shot (distemper, etc), he got weighed (7 lbs even), and he needs his teeth cleaned, which will have to wait till I have some money coming in, it costs a lot more than me having my teeth cleaned.
After the vet we went to the dog park (aka the DP), which was mobbed, it being a bank holiday and reasonably not too awful out, except it's always windy at the DP. He spent an hour avidly racing about with some buddies. When we got home, he went to sleep in his big dog cave. All tuckered out. You know what they say, a tired dog is a good dog.
And a tired Mom is a good Mom, I suppose. On which note, to bed I go. Long day ahead, judging by the weather forecast.
Going to work in any event. I need to make some actual money, for a change. I'll take my shovel, put it in the back of the car. That ought to keep the snow away. Having an umbrella in the car usually works to keep the rain away. Worth a try, anyhow.
Today was a work at home day, I actually got some stuff done, then took Pablo for his annual check up, lube and oil change. He got a shot (distemper, etc), he got weighed (7 lbs even), and he needs his teeth cleaned, which will have to wait till I have some money coming in, it costs a lot more than me having my teeth cleaned.
After the vet we went to the dog park (aka the DP), which was mobbed, it being a bank holiday and reasonably not too awful out, except it's always windy at the DP. He spent an hour avidly racing about with some buddies. When we got home, he went to sleep in his big dog cave. All tuckered out. You know what they say, a tired dog is a good dog.
And a tired Mom is a good Mom, I suppose. On which note, to bed I go. Long day ahead, judging by the weather forecast.
Friday, January 17, 2014
Something about the fog and little cat feet
This week we had the fog. There were some really cool pictures online of NYC where you could only see the tops of buildings, stuff like that.
Around here, we had the mysterious disappearing train station. Here's a picture of what I call the Traviata Wall (because it looks a lot like the Met's current Traviata set). Normally you can see things that exist on the other side. Except when the fog comes.
Uh huh, I think you get the idea.
Then when we were coming out of Newark, crossing the river:
All you could see was the bridge, there was no river, nor was there the town and buildings and whatever that ought to be in the background. If I were more skilled with Photoshop or some such program, I suppose I could insert Paris or Berlin or the Alps or something as background, and totally confuse things. But I would have just been glad to see the Passaic River and Harrison there, where they are supposed to be.
The weather has been odd here lately. It's going to be continuing to be odd for the forseeable future. At least it's interesting, at times. Much preferable to the year we had six inches (or more) of snow every Weds from mid-January thru the end of February.
Today was nice, some sun, and close to 50F. Actually enough sun so my solar light which is supposed to illuminate my back steps is working again.
My favorite part of the fog is that it gets very quiet here, and then you can hear the fog horn, wherever it actually lives, warning whoever that we're here, please don't run into us. I don't know if it's associated with one or the other of our lighthouses, or if it's on Ambrose Lightship, which is way out at the approach to NY Harbor. Or maybe somewhere else entirely. I need to research that, and find out where the horn is. The Lightship is far enough out that you can only just about see it on a very clear day, and then only if you know it is there and what it is.
As a person who doesn't do boats, this stuff is all a bit mysterious and interesting. I imagine most local boat people already know where the fog horn is, and how far out the Lightship is, and whatever other boat-y stuff I don't know and often wonder about. But wanting to know is not going to make me like boats.
Aha. Here's something about the local fog horn, I imagine it is still connected to the Sandy Hook lighthouse:
In 1867, the first primitive steam-powered fog siren was installed at the lighthouse on Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Sandy Hook reaches out almost halfway across New York Bay toward Brooklyn, and it poses a serious threat to shipping in and out of New York City.
The light served warning when it could be seen. But, in fog, Sandy Hook could not be seen. It had to be heard; and this new machine was very audible. Previously, ships were warned off the rocks by repeated cannon fire. That became hopelessly expensive and inconvenient as shipping trade increased.
Historian Michael Lamm tells how, five years after that first installation, the Sandy Hook Lighthouse acquired one of the new steam sirens just patented by the Brown Brothers in New York.
The heart of their siren was a rotating
slotted cylinder alternately opening and closing a
passageway to either steam or compressed air. Its
rotation gave the desired frequency, and it sat in
the throat of a long, large horn.
Those sirens were powerful, and most were less isolated than Sandy Hook. In 1900, a newspaper called a Rhode Island siren "the greatest nuisance in the history of the state." Near a Connecticut fog siren, people found that chicks were dying before they hatched.
While people who lived by those large coastal sirens grew nervous, lost weight, and watched as sound curdled their milk, the technology raced on. An amateur organ-builder named Robert Hope-Jones created a tone generator called a diaphone for the Wurlitzer Organ Company. Then he adapted it into the classical low-frequency foghorn sound that we all know from old movies.
That design modified over the years. Meanwhile, World War II required higher-pitched sirens to operate in clear air. We needed them to warn, not of rocks, but of enemy bombers. The Chrysler Corporation built one driven by a 140-horsepower eight-cylinder automobile engine. Same basic sound production, but far more powerful -- almost twice as earsplitting as a jet engine.
The pitch of an air raid siren was near the concert A used by the oboe to tune an orchestra. But there the comparison ends. Come within a hundred feet of one, and ear-protectors give scant protection. The ground shakes, and your vision blurs.
The big, loud sirens still exist. In Hawaii, they warn of Tsunamis. Other big sirens are for other big dangers. And we think of the original Sirens. They did not repel; they attracted. Circe warned Odysseus about the legendary Sirens:
Around here, we had the mysterious disappearing train station. Here's a picture of what I call the Traviata Wall (because it looks a lot like the Met's current Traviata set). Normally you can see things that exist on the other side. Except when the fog comes.
It was one of those days when I was literally the only person waiting for a train. Which is kind of spooky all by itself.
Here's the train:
Then when we were coming out of Newark, crossing the river:
All you could see was the bridge, there was no river, nor was there the town and buildings and whatever that ought to be in the background. If I were more skilled with Photoshop or some such program, I suppose I could insert Paris or Berlin or the Alps or something as background, and totally confuse things. But I would have just been glad to see the Passaic River and Harrison there, where they are supposed to be.
The weather has been odd here lately. It's going to be continuing to be odd for the forseeable future. At least it's interesting, at times. Much preferable to the year we had six inches (or more) of snow every Weds from mid-January thru the end of February.
Today was nice, some sun, and close to 50F. Actually enough sun so my solar light which is supposed to illuminate my back steps is working again.
My favorite part of the fog is that it gets very quiet here, and then you can hear the fog horn, wherever it actually lives, warning whoever that we're here, please don't run into us. I don't know if it's associated with one or the other of our lighthouses, or if it's on Ambrose Lightship, which is way out at the approach to NY Harbor. Or maybe somewhere else entirely. I need to research that, and find out where the horn is. The Lightship is far enough out that you can only just about see it on a very clear day, and then only if you know it is there and what it is.
As a person who doesn't do boats, this stuff is all a bit mysterious and interesting. I imagine most local boat people already know where the fog horn is, and how far out the Lightship is, and whatever other boat-y stuff I don't know and often wonder about. But wanting to know is not going to make me like boats.
Aha. Here's something about the local fog horn, I imagine it is still connected to the Sandy Hook lighthouse:
In 1867, the first primitive steam-powered fog siren was installed at the lighthouse on Sandy Hook, New Jersey. Sandy Hook reaches out almost halfway across New York Bay toward Brooklyn, and it poses a serious threat to shipping in and out of New York City.
The light served warning when it could be seen. But, in fog, Sandy Hook could not be seen. It had to be heard; and this new machine was very audible. Previously, ships were warned off the rocks by repeated cannon fire. That became hopelessly expensive and inconvenient as shipping trade increased.
Historian Michael Lamm tells how, five years after that first installation, the Sandy Hook Lighthouse acquired one of the new steam sirens just patented by the Brown Brothers in New York.
The heart of their siren was a rotating
slotted cylinder alternately opening and closing a
passageway to either steam or compressed air. Its
rotation gave the desired frequency, and it sat in
the throat of a long, large horn.
Those sirens were powerful, and most were less isolated than Sandy Hook. In 1900, a newspaper called a Rhode Island siren "the greatest nuisance in the history of the state." Near a Connecticut fog siren, people found that chicks were dying before they hatched.
While people who lived by those large coastal sirens grew nervous, lost weight, and watched as sound curdled their milk, the technology raced on. An amateur organ-builder named Robert Hope-Jones created a tone generator called a diaphone for the Wurlitzer Organ Company. Then he adapted it into the classical low-frequency foghorn sound that we all know from old movies.
That design modified over the years. Meanwhile, World War II required higher-pitched sirens to operate in clear air. We needed them to warn, not of rocks, but of enemy bombers. The Chrysler Corporation built one driven by a 140-horsepower eight-cylinder automobile engine. Same basic sound production, but far more powerful -- almost twice as earsplitting as a jet engine.
The pitch of an air raid siren was near the concert A used by the oboe to tune an orchestra. But there the comparison ends. Come within a hundred feet of one, and ear-protectors give scant protection. The ground shakes, and your vision blurs.
The big, loud sirens still exist. In Hawaii, they warn of Tsunamis. Other big sirens are for other big dangers. And we think of the original Sirens. They did not repel; they attracted. Circe warned Odysseus about the legendary Sirens:
You will come to the Sirens, enchanters of all mankind. They sit in their meadow, but the beach before it is piled with boneheaps of men now rotted away ...None of that enchantment in today's sirens. They mean danger, just as surely as they did for Odysseus. But there is no longer any come-hither message in the few of those great, wailing sirens that still remain to be heard.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Another Sunday night....
...and I'm bored to death. Have I ever mentioned I hate Sunday nights? There's absolutely no way to live through one without being bored to tears, and wishing everything would finally please go away so I can do something new, different, and somewhere else on the planet.
I've already watched two episodes of This Old House, if you can actually call them episodes. And no, not on the tv, on the computer. Charming, I'm sure. Vaguely informative, especially when one of the homeowners mentioned in passing that the project wound up costing more than she had expected, because little things kept cropping up which were not planned on. Yeah, so what else is new? Does any home project ever wind up costing what you expect it to cost, or less? What planet have you been living on?
So the other terribly exciting thing I did this evening is put out a can of trash for tomorrow's pickup. I figure it's safe to do so, since the wind is not so horrible tonite, I'm working at home tomorrow, and there is a chance that I will still have a trash can in the morning.
Yeah, it gets REALLY exciting around here on the weekends.
Pablo went out with Grandma for a while this afternoon, so I could actually strip the bed and wash everything, thereby extracting about 15 pounds of dog hair. Yes, from a 7 pound (when he is eating regularly) dog. I don't know how he does that.
So the afternoon was also horribly thrilling. Achoo!!!
I'm finally coming to the end of the book I picked up in Berlin and started reading on the plane coming home, The Berlin Wall, by Frederick Taylor. Not bad for a history type book, though not propelling and compelling like a cold war novel. I did realize in Berlin that at the time I was growing up, all this stuff was actually happening, but we didn't get it served up to us in school. Our American history classes went as far as the end of WWI. Anything newer than that was too new to have made it into our coursework in grade or high school, and I didn't take American history in college. So while I knew it was there, I didn't know much about the how or why or how long. And while I remember sitting in a hotel breakfast buffet in NJ watching people on tv tearing the wall down, and Lennie Bernstein conducting the Beethoven 9th (at the Brandenburg Gate? Can I be remembering that right?), with slightly altered words for the final movement, I'm not sure I didn't feel like I had just walked in on the third act of a drama, having only a vague notion of what had happened in the first two.
No, the book is not in German, or I would be trying to read it for the rest of my life. And the story is told from a British-ish point of view, so Kennedy comes off as something of a fool, among other interesting twists to what one might get here domestically.
Of course in between times I've read five or six other books, mostly on the Kindle app on my tablet. I don't like carrying real books with me on the train, they tend to be rather heavy and can get crumpled or wet or otherwise messed up. I'm one of those people whose finished books look like noone has ever cracked them open. I only decided to pull this one out on the plane because I ran out of palatable films to watch. And then we got stuck sitting in Goose Bay, Labrador, for two hours or so on what was supposed to be a twenty minute refueling stop. And there's NOTHING to look at in Goose Bay, Labrador. NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH.
Remarkably like Sunday nights at home.
At least it feels more like normal winter now, so that's a big plus. And the heat and hot water are both working fine. And I can put my huge comforter away again. And the new ceramic heater can join the stand fan in the corner of my bedroom, to be there "just in case."
Sunday night and all is within normal parameters. I guess that's a good thing.
I've already watched two episodes of This Old House, if you can actually call them episodes. And no, not on the tv, on the computer. Charming, I'm sure. Vaguely informative, especially when one of the homeowners mentioned in passing that the project wound up costing more than she had expected, because little things kept cropping up which were not planned on. Yeah, so what else is new? Does any home project ever wind up costing what you expect it to cost, or less? What planet have you been living on?
So the other terribly exciting thing I did this evening is put out a can of trash for tomorrow's pickup. I figure it's safe to do so, since the wind is not so horrible tonite, I'm working at home tomorrow, and there is a chance that I will still have a trash can in the morning.
Yeah, it gets REALLY exciting around here on the weekends.
Pablo went out with Grandma for a while this afternoon, so I could actually strip the bed and wash everything, thereby extracting about 15 pounds of dog hair. Yes, from a 7 pound (when he is eating regularly) dog. I don't know how he does that.
So the afternoon was also horribly thrilling. Achoo!!!
I'm finally coming to the end of the book I picked up in Berlin and started reading on the plane coming home, The Berlin Wall, by Frederick Taylor. Not bad for a history type book, though not propelling and compelling like a cold war novel. I did realize in Berlin that at the time I was growing up, all this stuff was actually happening, but we didn't get it served up to us in school. Our American history classes went as far as the end of WWI. Anything newer than that was too new to have made it into our coursework in grade or high school, and I didn't take American history in college. So while I knew it was there, I didn't know much about the how or why or how long. And while I remember sitting in a hotel breakfast buffet in NJ watching people on tv tearing the wall down, and Lennie Bernstein conducting the Beethoven 9th (at the Brandenburg Gate? Can I be remembering that right?), with slightly altered words for the final movement, I'm not sure I didn't feel like I had just walked in on the third act of a drama, having only a vague notion of what had happened in the first two.
No, the book is not in German, or I would be trying to read it for the rest of my life. And the story is told from a British-ish point of view, so Kennedy comes off as something of a fool, among other interesting twists to what one might get here domestically.
Of course in between times I've read five or six other books, mostly on the Kindle app on my tablet. I don't like carrying real books with me on the train, they tend to be rather heavy and can get crumpled or wet or otherwise messed up. I'm one of those people whose finished books look like noone has ever cracked them open. I only decided to pull this one out on the plane because I ran out of palatable films to watch. And then we got stuck sitting in Goose Bay, Labrador, for two hours or so on what was supposed to be a twenty minute refueling stop. And there's NOTHING to look at in Goose Bay, Labrador. NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH.
Remarkably like Sunday nights at home.
At least it feels more like normal winter now, so that's a big plus. And the heat and hot water are both working fine. And I can put my huge comforter away again. And the new ceramic heater can join the stand fan in the corner of my bedroom, to be there "just in case."
Sunday night and all is within normal parameters. I guess that's a good thing.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Snow, but not so much
I actually had less snow on my side of the street than they got on the other side. Thank you, wind. So I had very little to shovel, and I refuse to shovel a path across the front lawn to my mailbox, so the post office is going to be pressured (I hope) to allow me to move the mailbox to a more convenient (for them and for me) location. In fact, my back deck was clear this morning, other than the corner pile of snow against the door - which was still small enough for me to shove the door open from the inside. Once or twice since I've lived here, I've had to go out the front to shovel out the back door so I could get it open. Not today.
The driveway only needed to be cleared of the stuff the plow put there, at the curb. The rest blew away, and piled up against my wall on the property line, and garage door. Not bad.
Colder than hell, tho. The house is cold, too - the heat can't keep up, the insulation in the walls of this place is inadequate to Ohio-like temperatures. Mostly we're about being cooler at the shore, not withstanding Arctic blasts. If I ever hit the lottery, I can re-side the house and maybe fix that issue. Maybe.
Supposed to be terribly cold again tonite, then more regular. It doesn't often get to the single digits here. So I dug out an extra blanket, and we'll make due. No choice, right?
The driveway only needed to be cleared of the stuff the plow put there, at the curb. The rest blew away, and piled up against my wall on the property line, and garage door. Not bad.
Colder than hell, tho. The house is cold, too - the heat can't keep up, the insulation in the walls of this place is inadequate to Ohio-like temperatures. Mostly we're about being cooler at the shore, not withstanding Arctic blasts. If I ever hit the lottery, I can re-side the house and maybe fix that issue. Maybe.
Supposed to be terribly cold again tonite, then more regular. It doesn't often get to the single digits here. So I dug out an extra blanket, and we'll make due. No choice, right?
Thursday, January 2, 2014
MIA
Yah, I've been MIA for the last month plus a bit. Managed to scramble my way thru the holidays (next year someone please remind me to bring ear plugs to Christmas Eve dinner), now sitting, waiting for the snow to finally show up, dog on lap (makes it difficult to type, but what the heck, he's warm).
Until I get my head together and go thru the 700+ pics I took while in Berlin, so I can maybe put a few of them up here (don't worry, you don't get the full length travelogue), here are a couple of goodies I gleaned from FB, sort of in the holiday spirit.
All three from warm and not snowy Acapulco, where I dearly wish I could be at the moment and for the next couple of days, regardless of murderous Mexican drug cartels, or whoever the baddies are right now. Still better than (a) waiting for the snow to get here (b) watching it fill up everyplace I need to go (c) shoveling it out because I don't have the patience to wait a couple of days for the solar snow shovel to get the job done. My back hurts just thinking about it. They are promising 6-8 inches here, which means I likely will not be able to get to work tomorrow, which means another 4 day weekend, which is not so awful except I could use the money about now.
Blech. I hate winter, more and more every year. Right now, it's not doing anything here, except blowing wind off the ocean, which is by its nature damp and salty. Blowing hard enough that Pablo won't go out any farther than the back yard, and that just the part directly behind the house, so there's a bit of shelter from the wind. It's not so cold, just hovering in the low 30s F. So he wants to play, which so far has involved chasing a piece of cheese stick around the whole house, chasing a couple of chicken meatballs around the whole house, and chasing his blue squeeky toy around the whole house. Most of the chasing is predicated on the idea that I am throwing said projectiles. Except for the cheese, he was tossing that pretty competently all by himself. It's mozzarella, it bounces. Highly amusing.
So. That's the way it is. I'm tired, I really could stand to be working, so I can get money flowing in again, especially since most of it will no longer be flowing out to fix the house, the house is about as done as its going to get for now. But be that as it may, it's nice to be home, and to have a soft warm dog to keep me company, and lots of pictures to go thru. And sleep, sleep is good. Warm blankets, warm dog, sleep....
Until I get my head together and go thru the 700+ pics I took while in Berlin, so I can maybe put a few of them up here (don't worry, you don't get the full length travelogue), here are a couple of goodies I gleaned from FB, sort of in the holiday spirit.
All three from warm and not snowy Acapulco, where I dearly wish I could be at the moment and for the next couple of days, regardless of murderous Mexican drug cartels, or whoever the baddies are right now. Still better than (a) waiting for the snow to get here (b) watching it fill up everyplace I need to go (c) shoveling it out because I don't have the patience to wait a couple of days for the solar snow shovel to get the job done. My back hurts just thinking about it. They are promising 6-8 inches here, which means I likely will not be able to get to work tomorrow, which means another 4 day weekend, which is not so awful except I could use the money about now.
Blech. I hate winter, more and more every year. Right now, it's not doing anything here, except blowing wind off the ocean, which is by its nature damp and salty. Blowing hard enough that Pablo won't go out any farther than the back yard, and that just the part directly behind the house, so there's a bit of shelter from the wind. It's not so cold, just hovering in the low 30s F. So he wants to play, which so far has involved chasing a piece of cheese stick around the whole house, chasing a couple of chicken meatballs around the whole house, and chasing his blue squeeky toy around the whole house. Most of the chasing is predicated on the idea that I am throwing said projectiles. Except for the cheese, he was tossing that pretty competently all by himself. It's mozzarella, it bounces. Highly amusing.
So. That's the way it is. I'm tired, I really could stand to be working, so I can get money flowing in again, especially since most of it will no longer be flowing out to fix the house, the house is about as done as its going to get for now. But be that as it may, it's nice to be home, and to have a soft warm dog to keep me company, and lots of pictures to go thru. And sleep, sleep is good. Warm blankets, warm dog, sleep....
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