Pay the bills, file the tax form, photo drop....

Busy? Not me, just hanging on, just keeping on, got to go, don't cha know?

Snow Cat visited.

I am a cabbage,

I went to church after watching CBS Sunday Morning - it was on but I wasn't. Practiced with the choir and looked at the pictures and displays for the 100 year Anniversary of the Spanaway Methodist Church, which had a circuit riding preacher for many of those years. After eating I decided that two miles to church wasn't half the fun of fifty miles going back home, not even one twenty-fifth of the fun. I pretended I had power and muscles and a girl friend waiting - the truth was more like the Trusty Triumph had power, and I went along and enjoyed the sunlight and cool, my wife would be many more hours later coming home. Lots of flashing inverted V's from other riders, save the bad dudes with bad attitudes - must have been ridin' Harleys. I get home eat a snack and fall asleep watching one network coverage of a Seahawk football game and wake to the Goodfather, and fall asleep and find myself watching the Sunday Night Football game - I have become a cabbage in the lazyboy recliner. Some one must have set me on 'day of rest' cause I have.

A Hal Day, or turning of the slug

Not wanting to be a total slug and get moldy in the moist Northwest I decide to jog and shoot today, there is a Homeowner Officers meeting in my house this afternoon and my wife is focused on finger food and cleaning for it. But me, I am a slug and I take off - jogging joyfully down the road, picking my feet up and laying them down. I am passed early in the jog by a young woman that says hello and tears off, there was a day I didn't think that fast was fast, but speed is relative or was it time? She was going so fast she missed the shiny quarter on the shoulder, I didn't and I stopped to pick it up. We put a thousand dollars in a Credit Union account on rolled up change, most from pockets and purses but considerable from roadkill. I suspect that young women and their boyfriends throw the coins out at intersections wishing for love and infertility, thinking something mystical might happen. Nothing so mystical, some old guy picks the coins up or they get ground into the dirt for the archeologists of the future. I get the normal dogs barking at me, I respond with a hello, and then a woman in a car stops to ask if I have seen a German Shepard pup, but I haven't. I always think one should walk in ever larger circles when looking for a lost pet, driving doesn't help the dog at all, scent and sound being shut inside. There are some heart walkers out, but the cold and the misty rain keep most inside today. I find a dime and then a penny. I only need to find a nickel to make it a perfect Hal day - finding one of each coin. The nickels are the hardest to find, they don't have the utility and circulation of the others when getting change for a dollar. I finally come back home, sweating a bit, puffing a bit and happy a lot - not bad for a slug, one hour seven minutes and thirty-three seconds, do deep breathing exercises on the walk to cool down. Quick, change into jeans and GorTex camo and drive down the road to Range 16. Shooting twenty-two and forty-five pistols, won't bore you with the target, I did take the final one's picture but as long as I am happy - no need to disturb you. I wonder why, since Global Terror is something our Presidential leadership fears why they haven't decreed shooting at a range at least monthly for all good citizens, and jogging down the roads daily? Wouldn't that make me a wonderful guy, instead of just a slug? They like us better as a slugs?