A handsome jogger ran toward me, waved hello, and then passed behind me. It was Justin from Tivoli. I wondered if he was still seeing the girl he was with when we were in Irvine at the same time in 2003.
Water is not flowing out of the lake into the dam. We must need rain. I never follow the weather, but oddly, after having this thought, back home I see, on wral.com, this article.
There is a very persistent spider at my house. S/he often builds a web somewhere around my front door, usually off to the right toward my neighbor Kathryn's house.
As much as I loved Charlotte's Web as a child, I don't like this spider, and if s/he were to weave "Help Me" in silk, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.
I hate all spiders. They make me squeal like a girl. I know they're good to have around to eat up other critters, but that doesn't help.
I looked up at that spot as I stepped outside the door today, hoping the rain would have washed the latest web away. I was pleased to be right, but while on the one hand I'm glad to see the web gone, on the other, I don't like not knowing where the spider is.
While still looking up, I stepped forward, and then hopped and skipped and twirled around flailing at the tangle around my legs. I was breathing fast, and my heart rate was up.
Seems s/he had decided to relocate, creating a sleek, silk bridge between the two shrubs on either side of the entrance to my house. I first looked to make sure there was no arachnid on my knee, and then around to make sure no neighbors had watched my wussiness.
Interestingly, www.onelook.com gives this "quick definition" of the word arachnid: air-breathing arthropods characterized by simple eyes and four pairs of legs. What about the words spider, ugly, and creepy?
After my walk, I stopped by K-Mart and I bought: dish-washing liquid, six AA batteries, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a four-pack of strawberry Jello, and some stain remover for the wash. The only other thing that I needed was syrup, but they didn't have any.
I strolled around K-Mart "just looking" and gasped when I came across the Christmas Trees -- all set up, decorated, and lit -- Martha Stewart ones. Isn't it mid-September?
I received a package in the mail today from my friend Steve Steele, with a very melancholy letter enclosed. One of his three dogs died.
The letter is reflective of life, and to some extent our relationship, which is not as good as it once was.
The package contained three books, and they are an early birthday gift.
I intended to nap, but ended up reading The Kite Runner until it was time to go to Flex. I can't tell you how much I am enjoying this book.
In some ways it reminds me of Thomas Hardy's The Mayor of Casterbridge, which I dearly loved.
If Khaled Hosseini has written any more books, I'd like to read them. If he hasn't, he will.
I got to Flex at just after 10:00. It was pretty dead in there. I spent some time talking to Rick until Kevin (av8rdude) and Eric (innoman) arrived.
It was an uneventful night of karaoke, with the usual mix of about a 60% "atrocious," 35% "okay," and 5% "pretty good" mix of participants.
At just around midnight, that guy that I always think is named Pete, but is really named Joe, and the one Brian (brianrdu) calls "Heartpussy," got up and performed a song on his acoustic guitar, which he'd brought from home.
He's not bad, but he's not great, and it's not Open Mic Night. Me, Kevin, and Eric left when he finished his song and then immediately started another.