Back Track Tech

The "Allis" in the picture is still here, but both the car and truck have disappeared from the planet in their  recognizable form. Like stone and leather, the tractor remains elemental.

Reprieve

Handbag escaped his handler last year and the authorities brought him back. Some thought he would have to serve time, but instead he was released on his own cognisance. Today, a local veterinarian saved the same canine from the Catchers by sheltering him for thirty minutes until he could be picked up by his mistress. It would appear here that we have tapped into the vast network of the dog underground.

Devil in the Details

The lady in the car behind me was definitely a first responder. She was on the street, car door still open, making cell phone calls by the minute. In about three minutes, the state police, county deputies, fire trucks, and EMT units were on the scene while I was still in my car shaking my head in wonderment as to why the black car crossed into my lane and wrecked my car. I guess I will have to retract all of my comments about how useless smart cell phones are now.
Today, my trip north of the 45th parallel was quite windy, but enjoyable. I needed to begin the process of repairing the collateral  damage (my car). The spin off effect was that I got some great bargains on bulk food. For example, two pounds of raisons for $4.49

Grand Prix Down

It seems taking the backroad to the grocery store doesn't always payoff. If this were face plate, a condition contrary to fact, I'm posted. One car hit another car, then took the opportunity to eliminate another driving candidate, all in one fell swoop. 

Poem Song

It is said that Gerard Manly Hopkins intended to set this particular poem to music, but the evidence for this has been destroyed. 
Natalie Merchant does a great job anyway.

Wide Open

For me, a different trail in the forest today. To be sure, quite at peace with myself, as I'm tooling along. Suddenly, I hear heavy feet on my trail. I thought I was alone, but spin to find a huge dog bearing down. It had the silhouette of a Doberman (eight hands high and weighing ten stone). Lucky for me, the owner yelled out from a far distance, "He is a friendly dog", and the dog believed him.

Road Not Taken

I love walking, but hate walking on the side of the road. Which direction is always the question. So... today, I took an alternate route through the national forest. It turned out to be a better trip. The icon on the sign showed a hiker with a backpack, but I felt free enough to leave without it.

Roof Relief

Winter snow, summer rain, amounts to the same, if your roof leaks.

Given the slow passage of time, relief will bide its time with the patient. For the impatient, I say go with metal.

First Year Trip

Sun was warm, river was moving, perfect day for a trip. Perhaps better yet in the proper chair!

Universal Snare i.e. Fish Hook

One of my cell phone customer service representatives told me his story. Before working for the carrier, he was happy with his track phone of 200 minutes per month and didn't give it much thought. Once he became an inside man, it was clear how far folks would go to sustain cell phone stature. Customers would come to the store to pay their bill, even if their old car was broken down, and they had to walk. Eyes open wide, he quickly realized, without the cell, the environ was isolation.  To be one of the Borg, but outside the hive, is disconnect.

Close Call

I found myself in a dilemma. My smart phone was becoming an obsession. I was beginning to take it with me when I left the house. So I called Verizon with the intent of canceling. The lady suggested   suspending the service for ninety days. Well, texting had been a joy, but something had to be done about the problem. 
Then I had an idea. Why don't I just get a dumb phone to text? This move would save the $220 penalty for dropping out of the contract early. Alas and alack, the equipment was so shoddy that I couldn't force myself make the switch. 
During my suspended animation, I discovered an iPhone could text another iPhone without using a carrier. Wow! Pretty cool, a potential tool for the future, but I was still suspended with the debt hanging by a thread over my head.  

After talking to all these phone folks, I choose the conservative course and decided to just run out the clock and save the 220 large.

Immovable Object

My father, William T., was an accomplished boxer. He fought for the Golden Gloves championship of Michigan three times before he turned nineteen. One Christmas, the sons got boxing gloves. We quickly went into training in the basement. Only seven or eight years of age at the time, my record quickly advanced to zero and nine in a weeks time. Taking a jaundiced view of the game, I tossed in the towel for good. Number two contestant, Butch (JD), took to the sport with a holiday spirit, as did Mike, the oldest son.

Later, our family moved to an urban area, and JD began running the streets. One night, he climbed down the tree from the second story to further investigate night life. At the end of the evening, when he climbed back up the tree to return home, little did he suspect William T. would be waiting for him. An irresistible force met an immovable object. 

Taking a Break

Among Wm T's many accomplishments was the fact that he was a great cook. In fact, he taught Hope how to cook. "A practical man"  would teach his wife to cook, since they were coupled with the enterprise of raising twelve kids. Pictured below is William T. contemplating the "God of things as they are"

Recoup the Soup

Third time is the charm.  Second attempt miserably missed the target. I had to ramp up my efforts to achieve the missing element, flavor. The smoked ham hock in the center tipped the balance.