'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

I see this site goes down for 2 hours in a little bit.

Not like I've got a lotta would-be readers this unseasonably warm Friday evening, on which I've just come in from mulching a forest-wad of leaves with Bert's mower. My hands are buzzing, as they do when you've pushed one of those a long time. I had to go really slow, cuz the leaves were deep. Next year, mental note, should there be a next year, and leaves: do 2 go-overs, one when only some of them have fallen.

It's hard to want to, though, with the lovely colors out there.

The west wind, unobstructed for some distance, hits my big trees, makes mine the harbingers, dropping oranges and yellows long before the rest of the vicinity's.

I just used the word "vicinity." Dang. That seems queer.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.... (My hands.)

I hobbled back over from returning the mower, and the leaf blower (mine died), and thought how it was like after one of those olden-days walk-a-thons, before organizers started to see that people really don't have to walk 25 miles, they're gonna get pretty much the same donation if it's 5 km. Or so I theorize organizers started to see.

There was one honkin' one in Baltimore that Denise was on. It'd gone all the way from downtown up to the old Memorial Stadium and down through the near east side, probably where that old dyke I had a crush on lived, can't remember the name of that neighborhood, Jude lived there too kinda, I think. Then it went back down to the harbor and was heading back up to, I dunno, 33rd Street or something, and it went right past our place on Charles. (913 N. Charles St., no longer a building.) There she was, a checkpoint and a half from the big finish, having already turned her money in. And there were our steps. Steps she was going to have to go up eventually anyway, and then up the two more flights. With tall ceilings, so not short flights. She could either walk 20 more blocks, get in the car, drive back, find somewhere to park, and walk up the steps, or walk up the steps. So she walked up the steps.

Hands Across America went in front of our windows. I was thinking of that recently when somebody on TV mentioned that occasion, as an example of a failed activist or charitable event.

I have a new modem. The cable guy came this afternoon. I also have some new connectors and a new line from my house to the big cables in the sky. Squirrels, he thinks.

I could have done that cable guy. Do people really do the cable guy? I always want to ask the cable guy that.

Cable guy had a twinkle in cable guy's eye.

I need to get in better shape. That yard stuff took it all out of me. I might be hard pressed to bowl tomorrow, were this a bowling weekend. Not to mention if the cable guy came back by tonight, having left some piece of equipment here. My nimbleness would be impaired.

The other day I told someone how I could have fallen in love with the CPAP guy, he was being so charming, when we talked of shaving our heads. "And you're queer!" she said. The vet I have a crush on was in the house this a.m. but I got another vet. One many people would probably consider hotter, but not me. But I'm queer.

That's three times I've said "queer" in here. (And now 4.)

So glad I didn't block up all the windows with storm windows already. Maybe this weekend, for some. I hear it's about to turn.

And this has been another mundaner for ya, Friday before the site goes down, nothing to see here, oh well.
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