Okay. I have too much oil in my car. Any suggestions as to what to do? Besides “blow a gasket”? In other news, as I was checking my oil and starting my engine (which it did nicely), I also got the bag of garbage out of my trunk and fished the grapefruit juice cans out of conveniently tucked away places. That led to a fruitless search for more trash and quick inventory of odd things in my car: there’s the 2 lb. Bowie knife I keep under my seat, my anti-theft device club (the sawed off end of a shovel…
Well, it’s a Saturday afternoon. I finally got up around noon. Alice left for parts unknown shortly after that. The Wallaces are gone for the weekend, so it’s just me, the cats, and the computer. And George Winston. I found a couple of hi CDs in the Wallaces’ collection. I’ve heard bits and pieces of his stuff now and then but never seriously listened to any of it. Paul, after hearing me play, asked if I listened to/was influenced by George Winston. I suppose what I play is closer in genre to him than anyone else I know of, but…
“Be sure to check your oil.” My dad was giving me some final words of advice before I left on my trek north. My sister’s boyfriend had told me to do the same thing. I assured them I would. That was more than three weeks back. I remembered to check it (when the engine was cool) a few days ago. It didn’t quite come up to the “ADD” line. So it was off to Kmart to get a couple of quarts at my dad’s suggestion. “Get some high quality stuff,” he told me on the phone. So I selected two…
Do I have a great job or what? I get to play with scissors, stickers, and glue. I get to practice my alphabetical skills. I get to wear jeans to work (yes!). I have a great office chair. I get to listen to… The Goon Show. Every so often as I’m typing up library of congress labels and pasting them onto book spines, my employer walks in and says, “I think it’s time for a Goon Show. What do you think? Is it that time of day?” Then he’ll select a reel of tape from off a shelf and ask…
I answered the phone today. Normally I don’t. At the Myers’, Ken or his wife Kate are there to pick it up. Out in the studio, Ken always gets it or I let the answering machine take a message. It’s more efficient than me jotting something down. At the office in Charlottesville, Jenna, Jeff, Bart, Florence, or Ken will shout, “I got it.” At the Wallaces, Doug, Joanne, or Alice answer the phone or else I let it ring and allow voice mail take care of the messaging. But today Ken went to C’ville by himself, leaving me with a…