Sore amazement...

... after reading this morning's OT posts from a book group I've been in. How people can blandly sit around and say we should respect our elected leaders no matter what they say and do is astounding to me. I am tired of shouting down the bottomless shaft about it, and from what I've observed on various sites, neocons, regular cons, bible-beatin' cons, throwback cons and murderous cons, they all seem to have a propensity for spewing out reams and reams of what they call "reasoned argument": blind blather. There's no reasoning with delusional humans, nor much point in trying to demonstrate facts to them. You know, I wouldn't care as much if it were just their kids being ground up in Iraq, or their institutions being eroded and destroyed by deliberate maneuvers on the part of Cheney/Bush & Co. I would stand by and watch them all wash down the bloody drain. But it's my world, and my kid's world, and my friends' world, too, and they're scraping it to the bone.
Finally got back to route setting this afternoon, and my sequencing has improved. Oh, wall...

Hours devoted to beautification

It's never my favorite, but every three months I hie myself and my huge head of hair off to a salon for pruning and maintenance. I'm not trying to maintain a Barbie beauty standard, but rather avoiding the crazy cat lady look. It takes a while to adjust the color, and then cut it. I do get some color added, since otherwise it would be a very boring brown hue. Highlights... yeah, that's what I get. So I have to sit for about two hours, and though I always bring some form of literature to read, I usually wind up reading the dumb ass magazines they have stacked up on their tables. It's akin to not being able to not look at the scene of an accident, having to look at these rags. Who are they for? Do people, by dint of walking into a hair salon, lose grip on their intelligence and have to go for People Magazine? Well, one day I shall rise up and stop getting someone else to deal with my hair, and I'll never even glance at another one of those wastes of trees.
A miracle occurred while I was in the hair joint: The sun came out, and though pretty cold, it was perfect walking and running weather. As I ran up the hill after a workout, I passed a house which has long fascinated me; it has the ugliest cement fountain in its side yard, complete with myriad pissing cherubs. There was a rustle in the hedgerow, and it warn't no spring clean for the May Queen, it was a big old dark pitbull in a striped sweater! Right at throat level! I didn't scream or make any sudden accelerations, and it just sort of glanced at me as I passed by. It inspired me to get home very quickly.

Late-breaking music

Perhaps not such a wise thing to do, but we left the house around 9:00 last night to go hear a friend play bass in a little club on Lower Queen Anne. When we walked in, we were the only two patrons in the room, and in sole possession of the huge disco ball and dizzying little lights. The waitress brought us a couple of beverages, and laughed, telling us we were also in possesssion of the only two martini glasses in the joint; the rest had inexplicably vanished. The musicians played a bit, warming up, took a food break, then started a set. It was very good, and as if we had them all to ourselves, despite a trickle of a few other people into the place.
They only did one set, since it was unusually quiet for a Sunday night, according to all involved; I'm thinking, wha....??? It gets busy LATE on Sunday? People in denial of the workweek's beginning, I suppose. Well, 11:30 was late enough for me, as we didn't get to bed until even later.
It made me grouchy and not very good at climbing today in the gym, which I did with our beloved son. He had his own personal reasons for feeling not up to par, having to do with a bit of pub crawling in Leavenworth, Washington. We managed a sufficiently tiring workout, and vowed, each to our needs, to get enough sleep and watch the beer intake, each to his own vow.

Porque?

One of the bloggers I read is questioning his raison d'etre in this medium, and seems to suggest that many bloggers do it just to fill space. Another put forth a lovely photo which had been altered by photoshop with a disclaimer that it wasn't the real thing, real art. These two items have been bumping against one another in my thoughts: To the photographer, I say, it's art because you have made the choice of imagery, and may choose whatever medium you like to present it. One doesn't have to be a painter or draftsman for it to be real art. Which brings me back to the first item: Many people like the idea of writing, but it is a difficult medium of expression for most of us. So these blogs are a fairly harmless way to make an effort in the art of writing. I am not a professional writer, nor do I aspire to be, but I have read for the past 52 of my 55 years, steadily, avidly, greedily, primarily fiction, and grow increasingly fascinated with the art of wordsmithing. I've had plenty of experience with visual arts, and thus I am trying to see how to work with words. It is, in my opinion, much harder to write than to draw.
While running home today around 3:30, a huge cloud floated over and flung tiny snow pellets around; it was windless, there was lovely clear sky around it.
Later we may go out to hear music.

Washed away

All the polluted air that was trapped under an inversion layer; got up to see a clear frosty morning. Mother got in a sweet 8 block walk, enjoying every sunny moment. Later in the afternoon, beloved spouse and I took off on our own walk, down our hill, up through Lower Woodland Park, past the zoo, then down south of 46th through a mostly industrial area which strangely enough, was very pleasant, owing to all the pavement absorbing the sunlight, radiating it, and warming an otherwise chilly day. We headed up Old Ballard Avenue to a recreational equipment store called Second Ascent to look for a medium weight jacket for Him. Such plunder we found, socks, jacket, shells and approach shoes. I assured beloved spouse he needed these garments for a practical update of his wardrobe. And they were at good prices, being end of the year models. We don't need no stinkin' fashions!
As we walked back up and down hill and dale to home, our appetites grew. Finally, at the top of the biggest hill, we discovered we were in a no food available zone, and our best options for dining pleasure lay back in Ballard, but we did not go back, but presed onward, past the zoo again, where some kind of wacky turkey-goose-crazybird was whooping out for...something. Probably Birdy Happy Hour in there, as the hordes of families were streaming out.
Well, turkey en mole and a margarita sufficed for us.

Pie for breakfast!

The wonderful thing about leftovers is, leftovers is a wonderful thing! After a humble bit of toast - with just a smidge of maple syrup on it to make it moist - apple pie with whipped cream went well with my cafe latte. Just a smidge of maple syrup helped the pie, too. Fine fuel to do laundry.
Such a gloomstruck day; rainy, chilly, and the front porch is rampant with forlorn felines. Both our adorable-looking cats have been guilty of spraying in the house, and are banished for the nonce. I think it may have been the change of kitty litter, from clay to piney bits that triggered this awful spray-a-thon. How stupid can a cat be, to anoint its master's best pair of shoes? A master who is not really all that enamored of cats? And further, to mark a pile of computer cables and assorted connective wires and bundles, each of which had to be cleaned and dried, by a once-besotted mistress who is now reconsidering their fates? 11 1/2 years they've been darlings; now they are approaching Damned status.

The bird is the word

The aforementioned pie turned out fine, from all appearances and a little custard cupful of its filling baked on the side. We tasted it, and it was nice and sweet, spicy and dark from the organic pumpkin filling, molasses and brown sugar. No sweetened condensed milk - I only tolerate that goo in dream bars, and infrequently. I have pretty much decided not to stuff the bird this time, but rather to fill its cavity with fresh herbs from our yard. I made some cornbread which will go into a side dish of stuffing.
There was some sun around 8:30 this morning; it's been swathed again with fog. During our 8 block turkey trot, we heard horrible howling and yelling, and a strange metallic pounding. I espied a small boy, maybe 3 or 4 years old, sitting on his front steps by himself, beating on an upside down metal pan, yelling unintelligibly except for the occasional utterance of " I don't want to be ANYWHERE! " Well, dang, kid, I sure as hell wouldn't take you anywhere right now; early Thanksgiving meltdown, perhaps?
It's 3:30, the stuffing which I'm not putting inside the turkey is ready, and so tasty I could eat it right out of the bowl: cornbread, potato bread, olive oil, butter, onions, shallots, our own dried sage, rosemary and oregano, salt and pepper. Bread dough is rising into adorable little rolls and a large free form thing, and the organic cranberries cooked into a really delicious sauce. Now we must wait for the bird...
Some young friends dropped by and she gave us a wonderful apple pie she'd made. They are vegans, and weren't staying for turkey; they had dinner reservations at a vegetarian/vegan restaurant for a four-course vegan Thanksgiving feast. The woman in this couple is a talented vegan cook herself, so it will be fun to hear her postgame analysis.
Dinner was very good, and after just samples of our two pies, I needed to get out for a walk, rain or no. Beloved spouse, Beloved son and I suited up and headed down the hill to Lake Union, to view the distant cityscape in the rather heavy mist that was presenting itself.
Nice uphill walk back home, and the tryptophan was at last kicking in.

T-minus T-Day and counting

Yesterday I was considering the relatively pedestrian nature of this little bloglet. No fancy bells and whistles, graphics, visuals, animation or video clips; no clever manipulation of images, and as I made it clear on Tuesday, no rapier-like parrying and thrusting of bon mots. And people are taking peeks, and, I suspect, going away not particularly moved, thrilled, incited or amused. Well, I'm attempting this without any nets, just words alone. I have a visual arts background, and want to attempt to develop a different way of making observations.
It also gives me a record, however seemingly mundane, of my mother's life here in her twilight years. No, not going for the little violins here; rather, it'll be some kind of evidence of her existence, after she's gone. And she is diminishing, by tiny increments, every day. She can't help it, she's old, but there are days when it gets through even her Pollyanna body armor. "My mind feels as if things are curling up in there," she remarked one day. We talk about what might help; oddly, she relishes her routines, such as our walks, since she can remember the route. You'd think variety would be stimulating, but it only rattles her. She starts geting worried about where we left the car, even if it's only two blocks away. I feel as if I live with her in a state of siege; things go on calmly, boring to most everyone outside, but when something happens it is very distressing, mostly to me, since she'll forget it. Well, thus far we have won a few battles, lost a few, on her way to...whatever she considers it, rest or oblivion.
Probably I'd better go make a pie.

Now I'm in for it...so I shall take my stand

Been zipping about, posting here and there, and now some folks have showed up on my modest little site; perhaps I should consider sprucing it up a bit. I am not an erudite political analyst; in fact, I am growing increasingly impatient over would-be wise men on both sides of How America is Contributing to the Fucking Over of the Planet. This is from a poem by Herman Melville, best known as the author of the insanely fabulous novel, Moby Dick; the poem is described as an 18,000-line meditative poem, is entitled "Clarel," and based on this excerpt I want to read it in its entirety:
The Anglo-Saxons - lacking grace
To win the love of any race;
Hated by myriads dispossessed
Of rights - the Indians East and
West.
These pirates of the sphere! grave
looters -
Grave, canting, Mammonite freebooters,
Who in the name of Christ and
Trade
(Oh, buckled forehead of the
brass!)
Deflower the world's last sylvan
glade!

Arrh, Herman, I be with ye! Grab yer marlin spikes and board this sinkin', stinkin' ship o' state,
And send it to Davey Jones' locker!
I am deadly serious. And can you believe the timelessness of Melville's words? (People moan and gripe about how "boring" Moby Dick is to them, BTW, and I say, you aren't reading it deeply enough. Or go get your People magazine and ogle Paris's funny- looking tits, or FLT's; there's someWMD of one's eyesight, anyway. )
No more pulling at one's bottom lip and nodding sagely; no more egotistical Battle of the Nuances bullshit; shut up and go out and do what all these hypocrites did to get into office: create a base, only not one made up of credulous morons.
Okay. Action not merely reaction.

Foggy with a chance of fog

Not as dense as it was last night, but still seeping into the house somehow; I can sense it every time the furnace cycles off. We puttered around until close to noon, went out for a 5 block walk.
Mother's back was bothering her, so I didn't press her to go farther.
Lunch, then off to pick up a friend for a climbing gym session. She wanted to take their two dogs, chihuahua puppies, to the gym to hang out with their "daddy." They rode sweetly in her lap to the gym, and went a teeny bit wild upon release, but were oohed and aahed and goo-gooed over by pretty much everyone who saw them. Pretty well-behaved little critters, really.
We had a good session, were joined by one of the women who works there. She's been training for a half-marathon, and was supposedly all worn out from a long run this morning. Sigh - these twenty-something women don't realize how much energy they possess.
Beloved spouse returns again tonight.

An oblique sort of day

Begun in mist and ended thusly. Around 2:00 the sun broke through gloriously as we did an 8 block walk. I decided to run and weightlift today to free up tomorrow for a climbing workout. As I cruised along Green Lake, gauzy screens of fog could be detected slipping across the lake. As I rounded a bend and looked back, I could see a fog bank moving towards Upper Woodland Park and the south end of the lake. The golden birch leaves were jingling coins on the branches; a fisherman had landed a huge brown carp which lay in a curl on the grassy shore, dead and lusterless.
Our beloved son got home safely from a week-long visit with friends in Boston. He seems to have enjoyed it, mostly, although he is no fan of big cities. he's going up to Index tomorrow morning with a friend to climb those cruel cliffs.

Fighting off fog

...inside and out. I finished Bowen's A World of Love last night; it was published in the early 1950's, and I am observing a little more experimenting, or playing with language in it than in the previous four of hers that I've read recently. She appears to be relaxing the formality of her language just a bit, and there are constructions which seem to have a faintly exotic flavor to them: Maybe she was dipping into her Irish background? I should find an example or two of what I mean, just for the record. She got a bit more expressionistic, or impressionistic, or poetic or something, in her descriptive passages, too. Read a bit more of Genji, and am liking it more. Just wish the damned footnotes weren't in a Tinkerbell-sized font; I am an inveterate footnote reader, and may go blind trying to read the MYRIAD of them there are in this Penguin edition of The Tale of Genji. Thye are not all worth the effort, but I don't know which ones aren't without looking at them!
Got me mum out for two 5 block walks, one fairly foggy around noon, one sunny and delightful, at about 2:00. I took a bye on route setting, thinking it'd be better to hang out with her than to leave her alone all afternoon. I went to the climbing gym around 2:45 and ran into a couple of acquaintances with whom to work out. I felt pretty worn out by 4:30 or so, and headed home.
Off to bed fairly early with Genji upon my chest like a fate.

Draggy and foggy...

So tired I went to bed last night around 9:00, read yet more of Bowen's A World of Love and about a page of The Tale of Genji. The latter is probably a work that I, as a dedicated reader of Fine Fiction should be more excited about, particularly as it is called the first novel ever written, but... over 1,000 pages of...well...archaic stuff? I suppose I shouldn't whinge about it, it's better than flogging away at Beowulf in its original form, but...sigh.
I completely forgot about my sleazy TV show, "Lost." Such a culturally superior creature I am becoming, eh? But mais oui.
The fog seems to be creeping into my joints and junctures; hard to get out of bed, hard to run, to lift weights...coming down with something, or being squashed by something? I have only to start wondering what is the matter and I go for a walk with my mother, who marvels daily over being able to go 8 blocks on her own hind legs. Today I got her two chocolate vegan min-doughnuts as a surprise for after lunch. You'd have thought I'd handed her the Hope Diamond.
The other day we watched an Oprah show, in which she featured the correct way to be fitted for brassieres. I actually took notes, on my mom's behalf. I only wear sports bras, but my mom needs a new pair of bras. Seven come eleven...

Draggy day

Fractured night's sleep; strange foggy chily weather today. Again we got an 8 block walk, and the sun almost got through. We swept and raked leaves again; this time one of our cats joined the efforts, chasing leaves as they fell from the tree, looking wild-eyed as the wind swept through the branches, then tearing away across the street in pursuit of phantoms.
I came inside and felt as if I'd been drugged, so took myself off to the store for dinner ingredients. Halibut looked and sounded good.
Beloved spouse is off to South Carolina tonight for football and home brew with his sibs and mom.

Frost on the pumpkin, the grape vines, the zucchini...

A little after 3:00 this morning, I wandered downstairs for cold water. There was frost on rooftops and cars, and a nearly full moon illuminated it all. Later, closer to noon, we had a wonderfully sunny 8 block walk. I got in a run and wieght session; Hairdo Day came later in the afternoon, and our usually cheerful stylist was obviously out of sorts.
Mother swept another batch of leaves off the sidewalk, once they'd dried out enough to come unstuck. I raked, and a lovely time was had by all.
Beloved spouse returns from a short trip to Arizona late tonight.

Monday maunderings

Says in the Blogger dashboard this thing's gonna shut down at 9:00. I'll just slip this in to hold my place...
Not much to not from Monday, other than the fact the weather was astoudningly gorgeous, and the renewed piles of leaves which fell from our big maple tree dried out enough for us to go out to rake them from the street and sweep them off the sidewalk. Mother did the sweeping, which she enjoyed, and I did the heavier work of raking piles out of the street and up onto the parking strip, where they shall compost all winter. I do wish we had some oak leaves, though, as they are reportedly rich in nitrogen.
Walked down to the U-District to get a copy of The Tale of Genji, a thousand year old work which some have called the first novel.
Went to bed to read more of Bowen's A World of Love. I may be reaching a saturation point with her work, so it's good to have Genji for variety.

Grim Sunday

Geeze, it wasn't until 9:45 that I got out of bed! So dark, so gloomy, so cold...a couple of hours later, a break in the rain, and Mother managed 8 blocks.
Off to the climbing gym with my friend who has recently started a new job. She made me a fabulous apple cranberry strudel for a birthday present, with what she says is a tofu Bavarian cream in it. Sounds strange to us omnivores, but this woman is a fabulous cook, and her vegan baked goods are amazing. We had fun, ran into some people we haven't seen for a while, and probably won't meet again for another week.
Early to bed, I'm really beat.

Party tonight

Awakened at about 1:30, heard stirrings below decks; beloved spouse safely returned! Received my packet of birthday cookies, stumbled back up to bed. After breakfast and a spot of OSU football for my mom, got her out for a walk. She was feeling energetic, and managed 8 blocks.
The friend's 50th birthday celebration tonight was a good deal of fun. She got the use of a climbing pal's artist's loft, which was funkily charming, albeit really chilly at first. Good food, great wine, very good little group of musicians; another friend of the birthday girl's and I started the dancing off, as I looked for someone, anyone, who knew how to salsa; alas, not a single soul admitted to it, so we just sorta faked it. SO much fun, boogying about. Definitely got us all warmed up. Another friend of hers brought in an absolutely delicious cake, full of hazelnut cream, enrobed in dark chocolate. I made off with a few extra pieces to have for breakfast with my coffee, the only time of day I drink coffee.
Home around 11:00, to bed kind of late.

How did I blow off yesterday's post?

Just a usual day, with a couple of little walks for Mother, talking to the chickens across the street; I got in a run and weights, and got to bed early to be able to get up at 3:00 to make sure beloved son caught his airport shuttle. He flew to Boston starting at 6:00 Seattle time, and may be there by now, after two layovers. Long day, but it was free with miles.
I finished Bowen's In the Heat of the Day; another fine example of her wonderful writing. At times the dialogue seemed protracted, but I couldn't find anything I would have excised; she somehow makes lengthy conversations and internal musings work beautifully. I do wonder if my occasional impatience has something to do with the declining attention span of the 21st century person. Mine is pretty good on some things, not so good on others; I'm thinking the sort of mindset of a WW II era educated Briton might involve more staying power with reading material than one from 2005...
The homemade pizza deep dished itself, via a very actively rising crust, but it was tasty.
Beloved spouse gets home after midnight. I'm crashing early, and maybe I'll wake up when he's here.

A bit of routesetting

Got my mom out for a short 2 block "warm up" walk late this morning; got her lunch ready and went to the gym to route set. I felt as if I was working as quickly as I possibly could to get up a route and strip one at the same time, and it still took more than an hour. Our son arrived to climb with me, but I didn't seem to have a lot of energy. He did pretty well, considering his feeling not too well, either.
The route wasn't particularly wonderful, seeing as how I put it up and stripped another one in about an hour, but next time I will endeavor to be more creative.
Beloved son not feeling well at all tonight; seems like a flu to me.

Election Day

After we get Hairdo Day accomplished, I am off to the polls. I was number 28 on the poll list, and duly marked my ballot. As I left the polling area, I heard a familiar and extremely annoying and aggrevating voice, that of our son's 4-5th grade teacher. What a tool he was, and probably still is. He was down mooching coffee from the Senior Citizens' Center. I avoided eye contact, but he saw me. He was a loathsome and incompetent fuckwit, and I'm glad our kid pissed him off. He blatantly favored girls in his classes, and didn't even try to figure out how to handle the boys. Had a good run in mid afternoon sunshine, down to the Nautilus. Observed a young woman gathering LBM's - Little Brown Mushrooms - and hoped she knew what she was looking for. Either she was successfully harvesting psillocybin 'shrooms, or was planning a mass murder...
Saw several amanita muscaria specimens, those adorable-looking fungi with red tops covered with white lumps; they are picturesque, but toxic. Some folks used to claim they were hallucinogenic, but I'd never risk trying them.
Off to read.

Last night we floated away

Around 2:30 this morning, I awoke to pouring, sluicing, pounding rain, and a wet, desperately purring cat who wasn't supposed to have been let in by my mother, via her bedroon window, but she forgot... She has had kind of a rocky couple of days. Yesterday she showed symptoms of weirdness very early in our walk, causing me to get her turned around sooner than usual. The same behavior came out today, but she wanted to do her 8 blocks, so despite my better judgement, we did. She looked at the steps to our house, and I noticed she was red-faced and sweaty. I had her sit down on the bottom step, and ran in to get our son to help me get her up into the house. Fortunately she didn't pass out, but she was panting, said she felt as if she'd just run a mile.
I have the feeling she is hitting another downward plateau in her physical capacities, and will need to take shorter walks. I'll need to help her do this, and come up with alternative activities for her.
She mentioned yesterday that she'd always enjoyed raking leaves, so we went out later this afternoon so she could sweep leaves off the sidewalk. It was lovely and sunny, the wind had died down, and she exclaimed that it was marvelous to do this. Considering the size of our maple tree, we'll have several more sessions of leaf removal in store!

Sunday went missing here

Such a fractured night, from Saturday into Sunday. Beloved spouse had to get up at 5:30 to catch a plane to Milwuakee for bidness, and we hadn't gotten to sleep until after midnight. He evidently rested while reading on his flights eastward, I sort of snoozed in the early morning hours. Went off to the gym with my longest term climbing partner and friend for a workout; came home, went running and weightlifting; finished my regimen with vigorous raking of leaves.
Was tired enough around 7:00 P.M. my mother even remarked that I looked as if I was ready for bed. She and I had a nice weather break in early afternoon for a 5 block walk; she seemed unsteady, so we didn't go longer.
To bed with In the Heat of the Day, my fourth Elizabeth Bowen novel this past few weeks.

Which of the 40 days is this?

Gloom gloom, cold, rain, but a nice cozy lunch with my menfolk.
I don't know where the day went. Later in the evening beloved spouse and I went to a local restaurant/pub to have a drink and chat. One of the bartenders was in the porcess of concocting a new beverage to feature. It contained apple brandy, hazelnut liqueur, and a splash of butterscotch schnapps. It was served heated, in a snifter. He let a couple of us pipette a bit out to taste; I am not one for sweet after dinner drinks, but it wasn't too bad. He then asked for suggestions as to a name. Beloved spouse chimed in with "hot buttered bum." Hilarious, but immediately rejected. I put forth "sweet dreams." The barkeep claimed he liked that, and proceeded to garnish his libation with whipped cream and a grating of nutmeg, retiring to a quiet spot to finish it.
Good night and good night.

Okay, it's letting up...

..and I was swept out into a stormy day, blown down the hill to the lake. There were white caps on the little lake, the wind making its surface rough and jagged glassy gray slag. A couple of dedicated fishermen had lines in where the wave sets were slamming into the shoreline. I wondered if they thought fish would be swept into their area; not so very far past them, I spotted a great blue heron lurking under a stand of willows, evidently using the same strategem.
My mother made it through an 8 block walk. It grew windier, colder, and we faced the fact that she needs to get out her winter coat and scarf.

Stolen afternoon

Beloved spouse and I set off to run an errand downtown around 12:30 P.M. We took the bus down, and it wsa chock full of high-decibel teens and twitching , raving loonies. The twitcher had a big old mullet, and he looked about ready to hit critical mass before he got off the bus; at least he was quiet. A large beaten-up looking fellow wearing a greasy gray watch cap got on, and immediately started going off on the teenagers behind us. At one point, we heard him loudly declare he was going to the library, "where it was quiet." Yes, except for him! Another half-crazed looking guy sitting next to Mr. Raver stoically plugged his ear for a long time, then finally shushed the raver. Man. These have to be the same loonies I had to ride the bus with to downtown Pittsburgh back when I was taking the Greyhound to Columbus, Ohio, to see my beloved spouse, who was then my beloved boyfriend. They're undead; they reek, and twitch and rave, and ride forever...
We walked to the Pike Place Market after we picked up beloved spouse's absentee ballot. It was unusually uncrowded, probably due to the truly miserable weather. We found our way up to Matt's in the Market, a scenic little nook of a place up above the market. Ordered a glass of wine, sandwiches with the most fabulous borscht, hot, I have ever tasted. Beloved spouse had a grilled tuna, I had a pulled pork which was spicy enough to make me forget the chilly day. We got a box for our leftovers, and decided to hike the 6 miles homeward. We went to Queen Anne Hill, went up the Counterbalance, what Queen Anne Avenue is called on its south side, and on down into Fremont. The sky was contrasty and dramatic, offering several photo ops for beloved spouse.
Got home and found that our son had returned from Joshua Tree, CA. From weather in the 80's, from another planet.

Missed El Dia de los Muertos

Too preoccupied with goings on in D.C. Good on Harry Reid; just wish he weren't a right-to-lifer.
We have right to life at the far end of the spectrum here, the old people whom the Republicans would happily put out on an ice flow to avoid paying for their Social Security and Medicaid. Got my mom off to Hairdo Day yesterday, where there was a quorum of LOL's - Little Old Ladies. They are such plucky individuals. There was a jolly discussion about the hideous rain bonnet my mother has. I am certain it dates from the mid 1950's, and she won't part with it. When we went over to the QFC to shop, we saw two other LOL's with the same vintage of rain bonnets upon their little heads! A septegenarian bagboy escorted us out to the car, opening the door courteously for my mother. He told us he lost his mother at a relatively early age, and never got to baby her, so he would do so for my mother. Such a sweety.
This morning I went off early to route set and climb a bit with a new friend who is going to Germany tonight to spend a couple of weeks with her grandmother in Stuttgard. Got my route up, stripped one, climbed, then test climbed one that another routesetter had just completed. Got home, walked 8 blocks with my mom, walked to the store, and that was the day. It's already dark by 5:30, especially in this gloomy wet weather.