I've been playing around with the digital camera the past couple of nights trying to find the optimal settings for digital night photography. I was outside in the court yard when I snapped a picture of Spodie leaping to the top of the gate.
The gate (and the surrounding fence) is as tall as I am; I find it amazing that he can jump up that high.
Then again, I found it amazing that he could balance a bowl on a pot handle.
Time passed. I lost the link. Couldn't find it again, until now. I was reading the journal of Amanda Robbins (who is the girlfriend of my friend Kurt, the high school English teacher turned plumber) when she linked to it!
Of course, the story is now finished—he ended up giving the check back to the bank, but only after they furnished him with a latter detailing their mistake in cashing it and apologizing to him. And I suspect doing such a stunt today wouldn't work.
I haven't felt much like writing the past week or so (I'm updating! I'm updating!) and I can't quite pin down why … perhaps it was the rather horrendous week I had. Or it could be some negative feedback I've had about The Boston Diaries (and for the record this is entry is not about blogs or Google; nor is it too techincal)?
It's not like I have a huge audience.
I really don't know. Perhaps I should make a concerted effort to write at least one entry per day. And avoid the batch posting like I've been doing the past few weeks (usually a weeks worth of posts posted once a week).
On the other hand, it has been rather nice getting out while the sun is up (my sleep schedule is way off lately—primarily because I may be syncing up with Spring who works third shift), sitting in the court yard making entries. The weather here in Lower Sheol is getting nice again, which means that traffic is going to get horrible but that's the trade-off one makes living here.
I've lived here in Lower Sheol for over twenty years and this is the first time I've seen an ice cream truck.
Okay, so it's more of an ice cream van than a truck. And it's not even a custom cooled ice cream van—a regular mini-van with magnetic signs on the side. And a speaker mounted on the outside to blare the very annoying childrens' tune.
But it sells Good Humor Ice Cream treats munch munch.
Okay, maybe sitting out here in the court yard of the Facility in the Middle of Nowhere isn't such a good idea. This tree that's lording over me just shed a branch and it came this close to beaning me on the head.
Bad tree! Bad tree!