Went last night to see the Dark Star Orchestra at the Varsit

Went last night to see the Dark Star Orchestra at the Varsity Theater,
but the line stretched around the block, and I wasn't up to that.

Time to start thinking RAGBRAI.

Am I on the bus or off the bus?
How about under the bus or on top of the bus? Bus I am on is middle
class mid life family job bus. Kind of looking to what is next bus, or
accepting that this is it bus.

Does it have to be a bus?

The really juicy stuff of course can't be discussed here. The really,
really juicy stuff? I know not. What bus that?

Yesterday, I ordered Medifast, a month supply. It is time.

Today, rented for a year a small locker at the Y. 22 40 08

Approaching a birthday and felt it honest to bump up the age parameter
on the elliptical and gasp the maximum heat rate went down one.

David
www.schons.net
www.twitter.com/davidschons
www.facebook.com/davidschons

Au début de la journée, je siège de Nina. J'involontairement écoute à

Au début de la journée, je siège de Nina. J'involontairement écoute
à quelqu'un, un homme d'âge moyen, assis à la table dans le dos de
coin par la cuisine, parler affaires, tous les Kansas City et Missouri
et "Protéines national". Vous n'êtes pas certain pourquoi il est plus
odieuses qu'autre chose. J'ai déplacé.

-- This message was composed with PhatWare WritePad.

David
www.schons.net
www.twitter.com/davidschons
www.facebook.com/davidschons

This is an experiment--posting to the blog from writing with the iPhone Notes app. Stil typing with one finger or at best two thumbs. But the input and editing is a bit better. And using this method is now possible because I fixed the outgoing mail SMTP problem. Dah. So, when I am finished, I will email this to an address that will publish to my blog. Such is the theory.

This is an experiment--posting to the blog from writing with the
iPhone Notes app. Stil typing with one finger or at best two thumbs.
But the input and editing is a bit better. And using this method is
now possible because I fixed the outgoing mail SMTP problem. Dah. So,
when I am finished, I will email this to an address that will publish
to my blog. Such is the theory.

And this next section is from the Shape Writer app. Not so nice to
edit in, or different, at least. Mostly a pain because there is no way
to copy to the clipboard. Here goes--

Yesterday, I went to the Friends meeting. It was a short meeting as it
turns out because it was a fifth Sunday and it was Family meeting and
therefore only thirty minutes.

At the end of the meeting, after adjacent people shook hands, it would
have been time to work the room, except I don't do that. Everyone that
I thought it might be good to talk to was already engaged. So, as
usual, I left. Things go quite differently, more socially, when
Dorothea is there. Her presence is rare. That day in fact she and
Madeline were church hopping over at the Minneapolis Unitarians.

On January 22, I disabled my Facebook account. I would have deleted if
I could have. The same day I deleted my Twitter account. Not sure what
the technical ramifications are of that. We'll see. But I do think
that more bloging is probably a good thing. But I gave re-enabled.

David
www.schons.net
www.twitter.com/davidschons
www.facebook.com/davidschons

Smokin'

Last night lying awake at just about midnight, I just had to have a
smoke, and though I no longer smoke, I gave in, succumbed, collapsed,
gave in to the urge, to the calling brain signal.

And so the inhaled enveloping smog is analogy, code, for something
else, real. A new phase of life is upon me, of deadbolts and caller
ID, buddies, reaching out, tension, and even more exposed and rawer
nerves.

--
David
www.schons.net

Should this be my Christmas Letter?

Snowstorm of irony. Instant winter. Snowmaggedon. Just a few days before, I'd been riding my bike to work. B with a big snow expected, the people that do these sorts of things at my work had, for first time, marked off with orange traffic cones the long walkway bisecting the parking lot. Ah ha! No one will mistakenly block the walkway by parking their snow-blinded car in its midst. Monday, cones--no snow. Tuesday, cones--no snow. Wednesday, snow--no cones. Parking lot plowed, walkway hidden; cone-less tundra of white obscures all. (There's no obscuring the approach this August of my twelfth anniversary at the bank.) 

Thursday, Madeline (Class of '11) would be needing a ride home from school. So I drove to work. Well, tried. Morning, out to the car, turned key, stepped on gas, didn't go anywhere, couldn't even get out of parking spot on street in front of house. (This August marked the house's one-hundredth anniversary.) Spin spin, wiggly wiggly, slide slide. Got the shovel from the front porch, dug out. Wasn't really even that much snow. Escaped, barely. Put the shovel in the back seat. (Grain shovel, bought while living on the farm; used to shovel grain with it.) Almost didn't make it through Fairview windrow at end of block. But did. Barely. Narrowly avoided collision. 

Thought was to stop at Nina's on the way to work. Snelling to I-94. Lexington exit. Concordia, across Dale. Right at four-way stop with Marshall, where the Boy Scouts of America have theirs offices--up the hill. Oops. The suspicion Dorothea (one semester away from graduate degree) and I'd had last spring about the Hyundai's tires not being "aggressive" enough for snow--confirmed. I eventually slide sideways and backwards down the hill and followed a hill-less route to work, sans Nina's. 

Then, at work, texting with Madeline found out that of course she wouldn't be staying after school. After school activities cancelled--all of them, actually. She'd be taking the school bus home. (In fact, Liam-- eighth grade-- and Lou, our German student-- didn't have school. Canceled.) I was so pissed that, later, home from work when I told Dorothea that we needed new tires, stat. I said then she could move the cars the next morning for the snow emergency. Later she came back, saying she didn't care. Do whatever I wanted about tires. (Stella, cockapoo five people years old in January, noticeably stunned.) Called Tires Plus, drove over there, thinking $300, armed with Dorothea provided coupons; $500. Gleefully drove through all the spots that had given me troubles earlier. 

Told Madeline how ironic it seemed to me, the whole bit about driving so I could pick her up. She apologized, said she was sorry. But that wasn't it. Just life. Silver lining--got the tires thing taken care. Just in time, too, as it has gotten really cold. Reminiscent of weather last January for the funeral of Dorothea's mom, Bernice...........

--
David
www.schons.net

It's complicated

This week, we had "the storm," the snow of irony. Instant winter. Up until only a few days before, I'd been comfortably riding my bike to work. But before I could complete my winter transit transition to bus riding, a bit of car hell loomed.

With a big snow expected, the people that do these sorts of things at my work had, for the first time, marked off with orange traffic cones the long walkway bisecting the parking lot. Ah ha! No one will mistakenly block the walkway by parking their snow-blinded car in its midst. Monday, cones--no snow. Tuesday, cones--no snow. Wednesday, snow--no cones. Parking lot plowed, walkway hidden; cone-less tundra of white obscures all.

Then, whereas I would have contentedly ridden the bus to work, switching to my winter transit mode, Madeline needed a ride home from school Wednesday. So I drove to work. Well, tried.

Wednesday morning, didn't go anywhere, couldn't even get out of the parking spot on the street in front of the house. Spin spin, wiggly wiggly, slide slide. Got the shovel from the front porch, dug out. There really wasn't that much snow. Escaped, barely. Put the shovel in the back seat. (Grain shovel, bought while living on the farm; used to shovel grain with it.) Almost didn't make it through the Fairview windrow at the end of the block. But then did. Barely. Narrowly avoided collision.

Thought was to stop at Nina's on the way to work. Snelling to I-94. Lexington exit. Concordia, across Dale. Right at the four-way stop with Marshall, where the Boy Scouts of America have theirs offices--up the hill. Oops. The suspicion that Dorothea and I'd had last spring about the Hyundai's tires not being "aggressive" enough for snow--confirmed. I eventually slide sideways and backwards down the hill and followed a hill-less route to work, sans Nina's.

Then, at work, texting with Madeline, found out that of course she wouldn't be staying after school. After school activities cancelled--all of them, actually. She'd be taking the school bus home.

I was so pissed that, later, home from work when I told Dorothea that we needed new tires, stat, and got her expected non-commital response ("We'll be seeing Joe this weekend"--he's the brother-in-law car guy), I said then she could move the cars the next morning for the snow emergency. Later she came back, saying she didn't care. Do whatever I wanted about tires.

Called Tires Plus, drove over there, thinking $300, armed with Dorothea provided coupons; $500. Walked home, hung out. Then walked back when they called. Gleefully drove through all the spots that had given me troubles earlier. I bought the set of tires with the most aggressive tread.

Told Madeline how ironic it seemed to me, the whole bit about driving so I could pick her up. She apologized, said she was sorry. But that wasn't it. Just life. Silver lining--got the tires thing taken care. Now will have good tires for drive to Hansmeyer family Christmas gathering at Bug Bee Resort near Paynesville.

And, after dropping a wad of cash on a car, I can go back to comfortably taking the bus.

Then, it got really cold..............

Pheromone packed

Pheromone packed. Drove today. Needed to do some errands that are
bus-prohibitive--notably, stopping at Kowalski's for food for work.
Probably not a great day to pick to drive, what with an impending
snowmaggedon. But such are the wheeling gears of fate. My drive home
is inconsequential in any event. People are commenting about getting
their snowblowers going. I got some shovels out of the shed and put
them in the front porch.

The pheromone bit was inspired by the http://cracked.com piece I am
reading about apparently cute cats behaviors are driven by evil
intent. In some ways I miss having a domestic feline, and
others--allergies, the unpleasant caustic smells--I don't.

Also finding myself interested http://carnalnation.com and
contemplating family-friendliness.

--
David
www.schons.net