HOT, it is so hot today...

As I woke from my nap on the ferry going to work, I saw Mount Rainier shining with snow covered slopes reflecting the bright sunlight. So I thought about you, wanted to call you, send you an email, knock on your door and take you up on my motorcycle for a run up the mountain. This day was made for such lovely foolishness.

I didn't get your attention, you didn't ride with me, and I was one of the hard working, law abiding, responsible tax paying citizens - I went to work, finished the addition of the new purchases, got the crew organized for the changes in their jobs for next week, started on the list of recommended purchases for the new budget, and helped some people find information they had to have - I was visited by one Corrections Lieutenant, and then the weekly Friday staff visitor/inspector team - which I hold is a very good way for the lone staff working only with inmates to feel a part of the institution is around and in contact.

Finally, it was time to head back to real life, where I don't have to watch the clock, check email for requests and answer a telephone or two. Home where I will be safe. And I get to ride the Trusty Triumph to get there, one stop at Office Depot for some photopaper for the printer, my wife wants better pictures to send to her family of Keegan and his parents, okay. It is a good day for the motorcycles, one chopper is waiting beside me at a light and he comments on my bike (so much lighter than his) but it is my ride so he doesn't dis it because it isn't a Harley...

After picking up the photopaper, into the backpack, and back on the road being so cool as I ride. I notice at one light a silver CTS behind me, looks kind of like my wife's, but the license plate number isn't right, but the lady does have silver white hair. It couldn't be my wife, unless she stopped at her friend's for a haircut, or the market for Korean food. The light changes and I roar off, okay it is a meeker meow not a real roar, but I am across the intersection and switching into the next turn lane, and the lady is keeping up with me. For a couple more miles that car is stalking me, too much traffic for a real getaway, but I finally take one turn she doesn't and I am looking forward to the smooth S-curve that I would pay for to do twice (and you know how cheap I am). Finally, I am home, and put the motorcycle away in the garage. It was my wife, and she only recognized me because of my bent right turn signal and the airborne wings. I must have really looked cool, so not Earl.