The Lynx has returned to her winter homes in Ft. Myers (December/January) and St. Petersburg (February/March). The past couple years she has been in drydock in New Hampshire undergoing refitting and maintenance.
On February 18th I, once again, boarded her for an afternoon sail.
Until I post those pictures your assignment is to view the above video.
In one of my earliest memories, the Wombie and I snuck out of our room while everyone was sleep to watch a movie called Attack of the Crab Monsters, I suppose on Acri Creature Feature, but this is pure speculation. It scared us so much that the thought of going to our room was simply too frightening, so we went into the parents room and kneeled next to our mother, heads resting on the bed mere inches from her. I don't have the words, perhaps they don't exist, to describe the noise she made when she eventually opened her eyes and saw us.
My fun loving brother and SIL, The Wombies, like messing with me. Once last Fall they put a Scream mask out in the yard in front of my camera at the Cabin in the Woods. This past week tuned in and saw this. Yeah, it gave me a bit of a jump. First because it wasn't what I was expecting (I always have it looking out into the yard so i can watch the weather), and secondly because the apparent poltergeist in the hallway was so spookily arranged.
Nice job, Wombies.
- Is it just me or is every third movie made something about Batman?
- Is it just me or is
ComradePresident Trump starting to look a little like Liberace?
- Is it just me or is there just more and more crap on TV. I see there is reality show called World's Worse Cooks: Celebrity Edition. Honestly, if you can't find anything else to do with your time, precious time I might add, than to veg in front of this swill, then a major reset is in order? There's also some sort of survival thing where a guy gets placed in some remote locale. All the ads have him doing is screaming. Is that supposed to denote intensity? Just stupidity as far as I'm concerned.
- Is it just me or are most guy's beards anymore kind of a variation of a chinstrap? Whatever happened to the manly untrimmed beard of yesteryear?
- Is it just me or whenever a guy stands up he pulls up his pants, while a woman tugs down her blouse?
- Is it just me or is just about everyone these days unable to quietly sit amidst their own thoughts, or do we need constant electronic stimulation?
- Is it just me or is anyone else more afraid of the pissed-off Ameican who lives down the street with a concealed gun than a "radical Islamist terrorist"?
Babysitting isn't always easy. You are always torn between letting them play and giving you a rest, or letting them play and you catching Hell from a parent. I chose the former. A good scrubbing took care of the evidence.
These were a rare post on Facebook.
In my continuing effort to say thanks to our vets, I met Edwin at the grocery store the other day. Edwin was wearing an Army service hat. He was sitting in the first of three chairs, presumably, like me, waiting for the rest to check out. As I approached I asked if there was room for another and he replied "I rented all three but you can use one." I said as I sat down "Thank you for your service." And he said thank you. I usually then ask where they were stationed, knowing that many never see action yet are just as invaluable to their branch and nation. It was then those faded blue eyes began to tell me a story and I dreaded having to leave with the group. Norah joined me in a bit as I was not only wishing for more time but also entranced in his tale. I'm sorry I didn't ask to take his picture. As I look back I would rather have taken pictures of his hands. Edwin is 94 years old but has the grip of a teen.
His company was one of the first to parachute into Northern Africa. He wasn't one of them, however, he was in the second wave. After they did their business there, they then moved on to Anzio, Italy where the Allies battled long and hard and sustained 44,000 casualties but eventually won the conflict. After Anzio, he was one of 438 army soldiers to get transferred to help in the Battle of Bastogne. 68 survived. He was one of them. I again thanked him for his service, but it seemed trite and tired. I should have hugged him. I shook hands twice with him - once when we introduced ourselves, and again when I left. Man, what strength. I should have taken a picture of those strong American hands.
Barely visible, some enterprising guy used his struck for advertising his business.
And then a Phone Number
And finally, as I was walking out of Wal-Mart (yeah, my boycott is over), I noticed this scooter. It struck me as particularly ugly. It was hand painted a kind of garish blue and yellow. And not very well at that. No chrome, and everything looked pretty worn. The owner had fashioned some kind of storage thing on the back made out of maybe plastic or Styrofoam panels. What a gruesome looking thing. But then I realized that that scooter represented someones freedom and ability to go places. Yeah, it was ugly to me, but to the owner, It may be not only one of their most valuable treasures but, in their eyes, a beautiful machine.
As I walked away I thought maybe that's what wrong with us today. I judged from my point of view, my standards. Perhaps we all do that too often, and maybe we just need a bit more tolerance and less active judgementalism. Surely one couldn't have judged me fairly by my first wheels, an old VW Bug with faded paint and peeling chrome.
After I walked a bit more and took one last long look, I finally shook myself of that Hallmark moment and decided the bike was god-awful ugly and knew instinctively there are some butt-stupid
hacks in the world.
And then I thought again...
That pencil you toss on the coffee table or that wrapper you fling at the waste-basket will either roll off/hit the rim and fall to the floor in direct relationship to your level of energy.
hacks in the world.
And then I thought again...