I have nothing worthwhile to say

Well, not much.

If I explain how everything is wonderful, I'm lying. If I bitch, I'm whining. I'll do neither. Sooo, some random observations:

I've noticed that those Shelfers I've talked to on the phone have distinct regional accents. Am I the only one who speaks without an accent and with perfect English?

Tomorrow is a parade in town, and of course the politicians are turning out. I told both Bro. Dave and Partner Amy today to look for me on the 2nd floor carved stone balustrade of the Courthouse as they slowly drive past. And I told them that they will have to look REAL hard, because I won't be there. I think Emma has passed the Grinch Conch on to me to hold for the holidays.

I went to dinner last evening with LaElu, Tim and my mom, to a ma & pa kind of restaurant which serves various kinds of comfort food. I sat, drank my coffee and chatted, and on this occasion, the food thing wasn't very difficult. Tim is getting good experience as a rescue guy, and he and I were having a friendly argument about preparations for hazardous materials incidents. I was on the county fire departments' shit list for a good while, because when I was an emergency services director, I torpoedoed a poorly considered proposal for a hazardous materials response unit, because after consulting with buddies in the hazmat business (one of whom co-wrote the revision of the response guide that is supposed to be in every apparatus in the country) it appeared to me that there are too few incidents to justify either the danger to responders who don't get calls and experience or the considerable expense. Tim worked midnight last night, and wouldn't you know they had a hazmat incident in an adjoining county with a death from exposure to toluene triisocyanate (think cyanide and phosgene, the gas that make WWI famous), sheltering, and a y'all come to lots of departments here including his company. Son Tim is a trifle smug this evening. Sigh. My opinion remains unchanged, but I'm no longer in a position to do much about that. One of my (borrowed) rules of life is "don't let your mouth write a check that your ass can't cash." These young people are eager and think themselves invulnerable.

I have to get up early to meet a garage door installer, for the garage door (which is decades old) gave up the ghost. Hell, I offered to LaElu to get one at Lowe's and install it, but no, she had to have a professional. (Perhaps you don't realize how ridiculous such an offer is on my part. My favorite - sometimes only - tool is commonly known as the BFH Tool.)

I'm more and more leaving tracks in books - I have more stuff on my person than Batman does in his utility belt, including a yellow highlighter. When I see a phrase that strikes me, I mark it - maybe because that helps me remember it. This afternoon, I was waiting in the car reading Odyssey, by Jack McDevitt, and found one such passage: "Life is what it is. A brief stroll in the sunlight. A chance to enjoy yourself for a century or so. Love. Be loved. Have a few drinks before the fire goes out." I'm not often drawn to broad stuff like this, more so to terse, tight points. But this one just touched me. Maybe having a few (figurative) drinks is the one and True Answer.

I talked to the ladies at the diet place today - just talking about the future. My ideas in that respect aren't totally conventional, and I'm not going to do anything behind their back. I did tell them that they are important in my life, and I do love them. They were embarassed. How silly a society do we have when it's embarassing to be told that you're loved. There are as many kinds of love as their are combinations of people, and that potential changes every moment. (Sound silly or sweeping? I can live with that.)

I don't often pass along news items. On cnn.com today, though, there was an item about a high school girl who was suspended for hugging a friend who's parent had died. What kind of fucking values are we teaching kids? They watch the Dysfunctional Olympics (aka MTV and VH1) and so our collective response is to punish compassionate, human, loving behavior? Christ, I can think of cases that I've gotten ENORMOUS fees consisting solely of honest hugs at the end. What a world of trash. Hasn't anybody gotten the fucking memo? We're all in this together. (I do reserve the right to be judgmental about people who are silly, annoying and boring. If someone doesn't like that, I can live with that, too.)

November is a bad month for me generally. I'm working on the "why's" of that, but in many respects, my mind is closed. See, even I don't read the memo all the time.

Pippa passes.

Mizpah.

R