Here, middle aged, in the middle (ish) of the year, only a micro-inch into a new century, we find ourselves (or I do) in the middle of a strange echo chamber. I keep looking for something striking, something to knock me on my ass, take my wind from me, but feel while I'm looking down for it, I should be looking up, and now flip that around, etc. Due to poor memory for actual sequence of events (and there are few) I'll just toss the last 10 weeks out there, willy-nilly.
We've been working on the electrical system for the restaurant, beefing it up I guess. I got to shimmy on my back (John could not fit at 6'3" & 235 lbs) dirt and dust falling into my nose, mouth and eyes (did I think to wear goggles ? NO!) into a rectangular tunnel about 2 feet wide and 2 feet high and maybe 14 feet long, cut into the west wall of the basement, about 7 to 8 feet up on the wall, to do something with pipes and glue and ping-pong balls, fishing line, rope and cables--the whole time wondering if an black widow spider and her newly hatched brood of children were eyeing my longish locks as a possible new venue. I struggled out (easier going in than out) unbitten and seemingly free of arachnoid passengers, only to later, above ground and picking up bits of litter and trash around the alleyway, clock the top of my head, really HARD, on the big, metal thingie that sticks out of the front of a garbage dumpster. I think I spoke in tongues. I know I saw stars. I believe the pain transported me to another plane, that unseen chamber of space where my guardian angels hang out, when not doing their jobs, playing cards or flipping through comic books, or something mildly amusing and DISTRACTING. I could hear them speaking. Chit-chatting, tossing angelic barbs back and forth. Yes, apparently I've been assigned two guardian angels, both of them males, I think, or they sounded maleish. Are all angels male? I think I read that they are, once. If you believe in the creatures. Who cares--
the point, besides the one emerging from the top of my skull at that moment, is they were NOT on duty. I suppose I should take some part of the blame, as picking up litter and pulling weeds in the back of our building
is definitely not my usual behavior. I'm sure they thought I was safe in my little office, fat ass firmly in the seat of my computer chair, doing accounts payable and accounts receivable. On the other hand, how did they not notice just 10 minutes prior I was wiggling in spider territory, inside a square hole in the basement wall? I am not the begrudging kind, no doubt they've saved me from countless mishaps and calamity, and perhaps they thought a good whack on the head was just what I'd been needing just then. So, that's what we're doing, messing around with the electrical system. If anyone is electrocuted, I will be looking for a way to file suit on those winged dudes.
What else? A brief and strange trip down to Roswell, home of the alien landing of 1949 or whenever, to support my mom and brother through a trying time. The trials seem over, everyone back to normal, whatever that is.
It has been hot as Hades in the last couple of weeks, major fires all around us in Southern CO, probably seen on the news, but cooler now, had some rain and cloud cover. Decent sleep (no a/c in the house) has been possible now, breezes coming through the windows.
Sporatic calls from the kids, Nate and Nikki, in San Diego, but they seem to be doing fine.
Mother-in-law, Bev and husband Dan returned from their two month road-trip across the country. They had a good time, brought back gifts and enough pictures to fit into 4 photo albums.
Drew, my sister Ellen's daughter, came back from her second European trip in a year and a half. Lucky girl. She loved Amsterdam--does any kid NOT love Amsterdam? Seems a given.
Work goes along about the same, gain 2 customers, lose 1 customer, something like that, a dance that keeps us one nostril above the waves of poverty.
The latest little trip made was up to Colorado Springs, aka The Springs, a half-way point for both parties, to meet with Junie and Barker, (literary nicks) Junie doing a short stint in CO, this time, but I hope she was happy she came. Of course she was, she got to see beau Barker, to use a Victorian term, even if boring old us was just a sideline event, not the main event, and good thing, too! Anyway, it was great to hang out for a couple of days with them, as always. We browsed the shops in historical district of Old Colorado City, lunched in an Indian place, drinks in an Irish Pub. When we walked into the just opened pub, the strong scent of Pinesol hit us like a wall of bricks. At least Junie, Barker and I said, "Pinesol". John, the dissenter, said "Puppydogs". So the rest of the day we referred to the place as the Pinesol and Puppydog Pub. Later that evening, Barker, in his customary kind and generous way, treated me/us for my recent birthday, to an outstanding filet of steak (he had halibut) at Outback. All in all, we shot the breeze, John and Barker talked some shop, Junie and I hightailed it to the ladies room at that point, and talked quickly of purses (?) (I was carrying a new and weird one) and the joys of watching t.v. shows and movies with our growing-more-adult children, as opposed to kid films and cartoons. Not that they're all bad. We got a little buzzed, lamented the country music playing on the patio, but found a way to enjoy that, too, went to sleep in our fine Holiday Inn rooms, also courtesy of Barker, his airline miles points, got up at dawn the next day, had some breakfast and waved bye about 9am, all heading to homes and airports, Junie having the longest travel day, to hit home about 7pm that evening.
Okay, up to date I think.
A major lightning and thunderstorm, rain blowing in thick sheets, like a small hurricane but mixed with hail, just opened on the town! Not unheard of in July, but definitely weird enough to remark upon. The hail has stopped banging the windows and door, but the rain is still pouring down, rising up over the curbs, little ice floes sailing along in the gutters. All in a matter of 10 minutes. The old adage is true, "This is Colorado, Kiddo, if you don't like the weather, wait 10 minutes and it will change!"
Asta Pasta,
Slyboots and Ally
