Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Monday, July 29, 2013

Sunday, July 28, 2013

My Virginia Home — The Illustragraphical1 Version

The old farm house. (You may recall the photograph from a little while back.) I drawred it for my momma's birthday. I like it.

1 Yes, I know that's not a word. Or wasn't a word. It is now. So say I.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Pedal-Powered Personal Party

I figured out my retirement plan. I saw a guy go past on one of those adult tricycles, all tricked out with an overhead canopy, a basket in the back, and an extra basket in the front, holding a boom-box, playing his tunes. I want to be that guy.1 What a way to way to roll (literally): a pedal-powered personal party.

1 I know I've made similar proclamations before. In particular, an adult tricycle seems to be central to the scheme.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Lament of a Thwarted Lawn Mower1

Every day it rains.
My grass is six feet high,
How can I ever cut it,
When it's never

1 I mean "lawn mower" as in "person who mows a lawn" (me), not as in "motorized lawn mowing machine". (This gets complicated. If we accept this other sense of the term, as we must — what else do you call a person mowing a lawn? — then it's perfectly sensible to say that "the lawn mower [person] was pushing the lawn mower [machine]".a Hmm... (I need more (or less) coffee.))
a I have a small plot of lawn so I just use a weed wacker: I'm a "lawn mower wielding a weed wacker". (But then when I actually use it to wack weeds, I'm a "weed wacker wielding a weed wacker". Hmm...)

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

My Old Virginia Home

As mentioned, during our sling-across-the-south, we visited the folks at our old farm in Virginia where I spent the latter half of my youth. I snapped a pic of the family home. (My room was top right.) It too has changed (yellow instead of white, and the little trees are now big) yet remained fundamentally the same.

Good night, John-Boy.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013


Sign on a wall in a in a truck stop bathroom,2 witnessed during out travels across the south.

1 It did indeed catch my attention.

2 Oh, that's why I shouldn't rub my feces on the walls.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Delilah and Flag Balloon

Thises and Thats

Uh oh. The blog fell asleep again. Time for a kick start. Something simple, just to ease back into things, maybe some photos, nothing big, just little thises and thats. To follow...

Friday, July 05, 2013

Things That Happened in the Last Week

  • We drove fifteen hours, through the night, the car full of family and luggage, to my old home in Virginia. (Again, I've got trucker genes. I find a peaceful pleasure in long hours on a long highway. And I particularly like the middle-night dark open highway, my eyes wide with coffee, as the ladies around me sleep — waking again many states away)
  • Upon arrival, we left the car, which was acting grumpy, with some hillbilly mechanics, whose fancy diagnostic computer froze up but who identified the cracked vacuum line by blowing cigarette smoke through the system.
  • I traipsed ("traipsed" is the precise word) through the old woods of my youth, crouching along deer paths and wading through thickets, everything slightly different  grown and shifted  and yet essentially the same.
  • I saw a doe and its fawn. I watched them. They watched me. I shifted. They skedaddled. I saw two more does ("doe"? "does"?) in the D field (curiously named since it's shaped more like a P).
  • I got lots of ticks (again, a harkening back to my youth).
  • We drove to western Maryland to drop the girls off, for the first time ever, at sleep-away camp: real old-school sleep-away camp where they hike and swim and sit around campfires and do all that sort of thing. And where they can't text or email, so we'll only hear from them if they actually write us a ye-olde-fashioned letter (which I suspect they won't). Aww, sh-boo-boos. I hope they're having fun.
  • We drove to eastern Maryland, Annapolis, to visit dear friends.
  • We traipsed around our old alma mater (again different and shifted and yet essentially the same).
  • We went to the National Portrait Gallery and ate a fancy meal in DC.
  • I went on an obsessive hunt for a new new baseball cap, since I'd lost my favorite battered old thing in Virginia. (A well broken-in baseball cap is, in my opinion, essential for road trip.) Sarah found an excellent replacement in a bait and tackle shop. (I immediately started the baseball-cap-breaking-in process.)
  • We spent a night in Richmond, ate dinner at a cute over-ambitious little restaurant, cruised its old neighborhoods; in the morning, we watched the James froth over its long rapids.
  • South again. We ate BBQ outside of Durham.
  • We spent a night in Asheville. We stayed in a fancy hotel with lodge-chic decor inspired by the  Vanderbilt's famous Biltmore Estate nearby. I've never seen so many decorative stag-horns in my life.
  • We drove the remaining twelve hours back home, through modest traffic jams and massive rains.
  • I sat, late in the evening, in my very own back yard, in the wet warmth, happy to have gone, happy to be home again.