May 25, 2011
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the thunder rollz
she pants double time and tries to crawl onto my bed every time the thunder rolls...it's that long rolling 'here comes the train' kind of thunder, not your typical short blasts. she's not comfortable with either kind, neither is the cat (who currently resides under the room mates bed). I can understand why Rosie is shaken by it, she was an outdoor dog for years, with only a smallish dog house (sans a door) to protect her from the elements, but why Squabber? he's not an outdoor cat. never has been, never will be. I guess maybe it's a natural animal instinct to be afraid of what we don't understand (thus, the birth of religion...as far as humans go, IMO), or it's just an unusual frequency for cats and dogs? they do have better hearing than we do. I guess there's nothing more ominous than rumblings from the sky, right? so why should I even question there scaredness (word?).
mowed the lawn yesterday. I gave the primer a couple pushes, and the first pull on the cord brings it to life. black smoke belches out for a minute, but it runs great for an old (free) mower. I'm sure I've written about it before. it was a lawn mower that my neighbor had left at the edge of the road (some three or four years ago), with a "free" label on it. I drag it home, bondo the rusty shroud, and have been using it ever since. one of the best 'free' items I've ever acquired (since that Plymouth...or was it a Chrysler[?], that my sis gave me some 20 plus years back
)I assume Brian is currently borrowing my truck. it's not in the driveway. I let him know that he can use it as long as it's back before Friday morning (my Monday, at the stalag). we did some runnin' around yesterday. first, I pick him up from his surgery. he was awake and watched the whole thing, as they cut his arm and leg to extract the blotches of skin cancer. he's got over 40 stitches in his arm alone. then we drive him to his trashed car (see earlier entry) to meet the insurance claim dude. they total the wreck, but don't give him a dollar amount (on what he'll receive by check) just yet. he ponders whether he should go the German car route again, or maybe buy himself a truck (that same 'sport/luxury vs practical' thing that I struggle with when I look at a replacement for my bomb) afterward, I stop off to my favorite beer store and pick me up a sixer of 'Dirty Bastard' (a Scotch/beer hybrid), and proceed to clean the wood-panel submarine, drinkin' said brew, and jammin' out to 'Venetian Snares' via Pandora radio...
I go thru some of Brian's reject shirts (he throws them my way as he sorts thru his old clothes stash...he's seen some of the salvation army rags that I currently wear to work
). so far, I only find a couple 3 that fit, but I haven't gone thru the whole pile yet. once I determine what fits and what doesn't, I'll can go thru my dresser drawers and throw out the worst of the worst of my work shit, and start using the replacements. then bag up what doesn't fit, and bring 'em to Goodwill (or the like). I got time right now, come to think of it. [...]
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