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10 September 1998 |
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I was just beginning the last entry, on stolen time, when a critical task arose. Sigh. All tasks are critical these days. So, what's the big problem? There is none, just scores of tiny problems, like tribbles, in a huge pile. I'm being thunked to death here. For anyone not familiar with thunking, email me and I'll come thunk you. The Labor Day weekend was pretty good. It started with that boat cruise party thing by WRAT that I mentioned last time. The party would have been really enjoyable if two conditions had been met. If El Prez's wife and friend had not been there, and if more weird people had been. The two ladies were way out of their element. The crowd ranged from 23-36 I'd guess. I was out of my element, too. Everyone seemed mainstream. Otherwise, it was pretty good. The music was invigorating, and I felt like dancing, but everybody seemed to be in hetero pairs, and I felt obliged to keep El Prez's guests company anyway. The WRAT people were pretty nice and came round to make conversation occasionally. The solitary moments I got to enjoy the huge yellow splotched full moon over the rolling water made up for much of it. The air was full of salty life aroma, and the water, the motion, the bow slicing and peeling the surface, it made me feel very joyful to be alive. 
Saturday was a scavenging excursion, and those who read the
Gus might recognize this little tidbit found on a Fort Meade sidewalk.
Gus recently described Deya making something like this. In case you
can't tell what it is, it's a sphere, broken, made of plastic cups hot
glued together with xmas lights centered in the cups. I saw it, recognized
it immediately, and scooped it up, laughing. It needs the obvious
hot glue repairs and some replacement bulbs. We'll see.
If I thought there was a living in salvage, I'd go scavenging for a living. It is one activity that I truly do enjoy. Saturday's yield was very good: six cans of various staple goods, one large sleeper sofa, two wicker laundry hampers, a perfectly good plastic bucket, three dining chair cushions, a small cooler, one globe, and a whole bagful of new jackets of varying degrees of warmth. My treasures got wet thanks to a small hole in the tarp exploited by Monday night's ruthless storming, but they all dried out well. Sunday was picnic day at the National Mall in DC with Daveworld friends mentioned before. The original plan called for riding the Metro and meeting at the Smithsonian stop, but Lurker X decided that we needed more things than was practical hauling by hand on the subway, so we took her car and met Jeff there. The intense sun burnt me, despite my efforts to stay in the shade and putting my shirt over my head whenever not in the shade, but the burn was pretty minor. We found a nice shady spot to devour our fried tofu sandwiches and various fruits and tortilla chips. These we walked off by visiting the nearby Roosevelt Memorial, which I'd never seen before. The waterfalls are very spirit-lifting, though this particular day my spirits really didn't need it. The rocks begged to be climbed and walked on, even out into the water, so at times I obliged them. We also walked to the Vietnam and Korean War memorials before Katherine decided she'd had it and we agreed it was time to depart. Like the boat party, there were several moments of nature inspired contentment. The sun might have been harsh, but the breeze made up for it. The contrasting shadows and the lushness of the grass, the feel of the water rising up from the Potomac and into the air, it all gave me the feeling of life. Saturday and Sunday afternoons were both spent in the park. I went to Fort Meade's Burba Park to pull the truck into a nice shady spot and stretch out on the sofa in the back to read and nap. What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon! I almost miss having a sofa in my truck now; that instant leisure is a compelling concept. Monday I lolled around the Huz's house and did nothing but read, and he didn't give me flak about it. Thank you thank you thank you. We took the scenic route home. I'd decided it might be fun to explore Highway 1, since the thing runs the way I wanted to go. Unfortunately, 1 gets lost in some nasty parts of Baltimore, so I had to cut to the Beltway and pick the highway up again on the north side of town. In the process of finding 1 again, I met someone with car trouble, and tried to give him a jump from my battery. The jump didn't work, so I sighed, disconnected, and closed my hood. The hood has no springs, so when it comes down...well lots of little figures suddenly jumped in the air, their glued feet having dislodged the paint itself. Ah well. Our journey took us through lots of small towns and even over a dam. We wound around through agricultural lands and up and down hills, some of which surprised me in height as I climbed them in third gear. The stretch through Philadelphia was particularly nice, though quite long, down tree lined avenues. Before long I began to despair of finding a closer spot to cut into New Jersey, as I knew 1 did go to New York, but not how northerly a route it might be. See, I was doing all this without benefit of a map. Yes, I, the map nut. I found a junction with I-95 and took it northbound, not knowing I was too far north to do so, but I kept searching for familiar looking highway numbers and soon encountered State Highway 33. This eventually led me back into familiar territory, though the whole trip turned out to be slightly over five hours. By Interstate, it's a 3.5 hour trip. The timing was perfect. The vicious storm waited until just after we were home to unleash its tentacles of force. My entire sofa was soaked, through one very tiny hole in the tarp. Since then, I've been busy, far too busy. Last night was time out night, and I insisted on getting to bed at 9:30. Boober and I are both down with sinusitis and I've been crushing too much work into too little time. And I'm down, mostly because of this crush, but also because of a few personal issues, some of which revolve around facter. Like anything is new. It is suddenly fall now, and the air is so chilly, counteracting the bright sun. Fall is my favorite season. It nearly always brings me up. So, uh, hey, get on with it... --Spring
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