I went running yesterday morning, and on my 3 mile loop, two ladies were walking their dogs. One of these dogs, a small-ish (20-30lb) terrier-looking fellow, decided I was hostile and threatening in my activities, and so proceeded to chase me down the road. He got about 3 feet from me, barking, growling, and generally acting threatening, so I turned around and kicked him in the teeth without stopping. Needless to say, his mistress was less than pleased with me and proceeded to yell such admonishments as "He wann't gonna hurt you none!" and "If I thought he was gon' bite you, I wouldna let him go!"
Regardless of these well researched facts, I felt well justified in defending the integrity of my calf from this excessively aggressive little animal.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Things of no importance to anyone else.
Today was a good day. I mean, it was on par with saving a bus load of children from careening off a cliff at high speeds using nothing but rocket-propelled roller skates, a pneumatic grappling hook, and sheer manly courage. It was that good. I made pizza. A very thick, double deck pizza. There were too many toppings, and they simply could not be allowed to go to waste, so after assessing the situation, I decided that another layer of peppers, sausage, onion, mushroom, and pineapple could be added. When looking at that, it was determined that they would fall off unless they were held in place by another layer of cheese, so that simply had to be put on as well.
After the pizza there were cookies. So many cookies I cannot express. Chocolate cookies with mint chips and walnuts, and chocolate chip cookies with walnuts, and some with a little bit of both swirled in. I ended up eating so much that I had to be dragged across the floor, out of the kitchen, and then slowly work my way up onto the couch. There may or may not have been a brief food coma.
And I got to do all this with this strange, warped, smart, very cute girl that likes to be around me. She was even the one who dragged my fat ass out of the kitchen to the couch. By the way, if you're curious and I haven't already told you, her name is Olivia.
After the pizza there were cookies. So many cookies I cannot express. Chocolate cookies with mint chips and walnuts, and chocolate chip cookies with walnuts, and some with a little bit of both swirled in. I ended up eating so much that I had to be dragged across the floor, out of the kitchen, and then slowly work my way up onto the couch. There may or may not have been a brief food coma.
And I got to do all this with this strange, warped, smart, very cute girl that likes to be around me. She was even the one who dragged my fat ass out of the kitchen to the couch. By the way, if you're curious and I haven't already told you, her name is Olivia.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
County fair: Lancashire, England 1987
Raucous children ran about underfoot, and the smell of fried foods floated heavily on the air. The jeering taunts of the clown at the dunk tank cut through the noise and the smells like a siren: a wheedling, irritating, obnoxious siren. A sign painted in garish turquoise and magenta hung next to the tank, with the words "Dunk him and WIN!" emblazoned boldly across it in large print.
"Come on up, slugger! Have a go!"
"Hey stretch, if your ears get any bigger, you're going to blow away!"
"Muscleman! Hey, Muscleman! show that pretty lady what you're made of!"
One by one, the marks on the midway stepped up to hurl that tiny white sphere at the even tinier target of red and white in hopes of sending the abrasive fellow into the ice cold water that waited below his precarious perch.
A slender young man with barely a wisp of a beard stepped up to the table and handed the man behind the sign a wrinkled and damp one pound note, and received three small balls in return.
"Ooooh! Look out ladies and gentlemen, we got Goliath in the house this evening!"
Without responding, the young lad rolled the ball back and forth in his hand for a second, and then, without a warning or windup, he whipped it toward the far end of the range, where it rang soundly as it smacked into the minuscule target, snapping it back and sending the clown plunging into the chilled tank.
After the splashing and applause stopped, the clown climbed back out of the tank, reset the mechanism, and climbed back onto his perch.
"Lucky shot! Lucky shot! I hear lightning never strikes twice in the same spot. Let's see what you've got there, Zeus!"
Whiz! Clang! Sploosh!
The clown went swimming a second time as more cheering and laughter erupted from the onlookers.
The mechanism was reset, the ball thrown again, and for a third time, the icy water doused the red wig perched atop that heavily made-up face as the ringing sound of leather on metal echoed across the field.
The man behind the table leaned toward the rack of prizes and began to pull one of the smallest stuffed animals from the bottom shelf, but the boy shook his head, reached into his pocket, and pulled out another badly beaten one pound note and handed it to the sweaty faced vendor. He took the three balls, and one by one, used them to send the now soaked clown plunging into the water again, and again, and again.
Again, he shook his head after being offered his choice of prizes off the middle shelf, handed in another pound, accepted the three balls in return, and thrice more sent them hurtling accurately toward the target eliciting three more angry splashes from the man on the mechanism, who now had thick white make up and bright red lipstick running down his face in rainbow-hued rivulets.
Again the choice of prizes was declined, despite the offer of those elusive treasures housed on the top shelf, seldom liberated by any hand.
Again, the exchange of money for three more white spheres, and again they flashed, straight and true to their target. Silence had fallen over the gathered spectators by this point, the clown had stopped his heckling and was struggling simply to stay afloat and breathe, while the man behind the table watched with a mixture of awe and anger. After the fifth encore performance, the ire of the man behind the counter was clearly roused, and he refused to sell the young man any more missiles. He simply waved his hand toward his wares and mumbled "Whatever you want..."
The slender young man looked for a second, and carefully pointed at the old balding man's beautiful young daughter. "Her." was all anyone heard him say. The old man didn't even lift a hand to stop her as she walked toward her champion, took hold of his hand, walked past her father, past the sodden clown, past the stunned and silend onlookers, and out of the fairgrounds. They were never seen again.
"Come on up, slugger! Have a go!"
"Hey stretch, if your ears get any bigger, you're going to blow away!"
"Muscleman! Hey, Muscleman! show that pretty lady what you're made of!"
One by one, the marks on the midway stepped up to hurl that tiny white sphere at the even tinier target of red and white in hopes of sending the abrasive fellow into the ice cold water that waited below his precarious perch.
A slender young man with barely a wisp of a beard stepped up to the table and handed the man behind the sign a wrinkled and damp one pound note, and received three small balls in return.
"Ooooh! Look out ladies and gentlemen, we got Goliath in the house this evening!"
Without responding, the young lad rolled the ball back and forth in his hand for a second, and then, without a warning or windup, he whipped it toward the far end of the range, where it rang soundly as it smacked into the minuscule target, snapping it back and sending the clown plunging into the chilled tank.
After the splashing and applause stopped, the clown climbed back out of the tank, reset the mechanism, and climbed back onto his perch.
"Lucky shot! Lucky shot! I hear lightning never strikes twice in the same spot. Let's see what you've got there, Zeus!"
Whiz! Clang! Sploosh!
The clown went swimming a second time as more cheering and laughter erupted from the onlookers.
The mechanism was reset, the ball thrown again, and for a third time, the icy water doused the red wig perched atop that heavily made-up face as the ringing sound of leather on metal echoed across the field.
The man behind the table leaned toward the rack of prizes and began to pull one of the smallest stuffed animals from the bottom shelf, but the boy shook his head, reached into his pocket, and pulled out another badly beaten one pound note and handed it to the sweaty faced vendor. He took the three balls, and one by one, used them to send the now soaked clown plunging into the water again, and again, and again.
Again, he shook his head after being offered his choice of prizes off the middle shelf, handed in another pound, accepted the three balls in return, and thrice more sent them hurtling accurately toward the target eliciting three more angry splashes from the man on the mechanism, who now had thick white make up and bright red lipstick running down his face in rainbow-hued rivulets.
Again the choice of prizes was declined, despite the offer of those elusive treasures housed on the top shelf, seldom liberated by any hand.
Again, the exchange of money for three more white spheres, and again they flashed, straight and true to their target. Silence had fallen over the gathered spectators by this point, the clown had stopped his heckling and was struggling simply to stay afloat and breathe, while the man behind the table watched with a mixture of awe and anger. After the fifth encore performance, the ire of the man behind the counter was clearly roused, and he refused to sell the young man any more missiles. He simply waved his hand toward his wares and mumbled "Whatever you want..."
The slender young man looked for a second, and carefully pointed at the old balding man's beautiful young daughter. "Her." was all anyone heard him say. The old man didn't even lift a hand to stop her as she walked toward her champion, took hold of his hand, walked past her father, past the sodden clown, past the stunned and silend onlookers, and out of the fairgrounds. They were never seen again.
Friday, October 2, 2009
What has Justin been up to?
Well, I'm glad you asked. Even if you didn't, the fact that you're reading this indicates that you're curious anyway. I started drawing again...kind of. At least, I've done one drawing, the first one in a very long time.
It's called "Poi at rest" if you like those boring names that describe what is in the picture. If, like me, you find those names pedestrian and prosaic, it's called "Excuse me, but your goat is in my petunias". It was drawn in honor of the Fall Wildfire going on this weekend that I am currently missing.
Also, I've been doing some hiking, some of it with a young lady of questionable taste (she's going hiking in the woods with me after all), and recently we went up the Ramsay Cascade trail, a 4 mile trip that starts out as an easy jaunt up a mild incline, and then after a mile and a half, turns into a vertical death march up a narrow trail with boulders and roots everywhere.
(Headed up the trail)
(View of the stream below the falls)
We managed to make it up in 90 minutes, eat lunch at the top of the falls, and then it proceeded to rain. Steadily.
(View from the bottom of the falls)
The trip back down was much wetter and considerably faster, but there was a certain amount of intentional puddle splashing, tree shaking (I got hit in the head with a branch), and mud.
(View in the rain from a bridge over the stream)
In addition, since it is now October, and Halloween is rapidly approaching, I went all Jack(Skellington) O' Lantern-y.
(My pumpkin)
And to finish it off, here is a view across the valley from my back porch at the new house.
(A little dark, but the colors are better)
These pictures brought to you courtesy of the new SD card reader I bought to replace the USB cable for my camera that I lost. If you Boston guys happen to have noticed a Canon USB cable, it might be mine, it's been missing since Spring Wildfire.
It's called "Poi at rest" if you like those boring names that describe what is in the picture. If, like me, you find those names pedestrian and prosaic, it's called "Excuse me, but your goat is in my petunias". It was drawn in honor of the Fall Wildfire going on this weekend that I am currently missing.
Also, I've been doing some hiking, some of it with a young lady of questionable taste (she's going hiking in the woods with me after all), and recently we went up the Ramsay Cascade trail, a 4 mile trip that starts out as an easy jaunt up a mild incline, and then after a mile and a half, turns into a vertical death march up a narrow trail with boulders and roots everywhere.
(Headed up the trail)
(View of the stream below the falls)
We managed to make it up in 90 minutes, eat lunch at the top of the falls, and then it proceeded to rain. Steadily.
(View from the bottom of the falls)
The trip back down was much wetter and considerably faster, but there was a certain amount of intentional puddle splashing, tree shaking (I got hit in the head with a branch), and mud.
(View in the rain from a bridge over the stream)
In addition, since it is now October, and Halloween is rapidly approaching, I went all Jack(Skellington) O' Lantern-y.
(My pumpkin)
And to finish it off, here is a view across the valley from my back porch at the new house.
(A little dark, but the colors are better)
These pictures brought to you courtesy of the new SD card reader I bought to replace the USB cable for my camera that I lost. If you Boston guys happen to have noticed a Canon USB cable, it might be mine, it's been missing since Spring Wildfire.
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