Dashing One Off

The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaiety, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it.

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Sort of a challenging writing environment right now, given that I'm sitting in a deposition. Well, in fact we're waiting for the witness to show up. What a glorious thing if she doesn't, and I have this hour for something less stultifying.

I mentioned this week a desire to avoid the boring, repetitive views out the window that I usually include here. Instead, here's a view out our bedroom window, looking to the northwest.

The super cool pickup down there is mine. Our trash cans live in the shed, but the city won't take trash in a trash can, and requires us to buy very expensive blue bags at Wegman's to hold our other trash bags for Monday pickup, which never happens because we're usually not here early enough to put out the trash. This means Peggy is always riding around with trash in the back of her car, so she can dump it in a trash can when she stops for gas. It's not a great system.

We walked a few blocks yesterday after work to look at a midcentury modern that just came on the market. Why look, with such a lovely place here? The cat and I both miss being able to go outside. On days like this, with clear skies and 72 degrees, I'd normally find a way to go work on the porch. There is, however, no porch, so Slane and I sit staring out the window, wondering how the air feels.

Damn. The witness showed up. Here we go.

Anyway, the house was painfully dated--it was obvious the longtime owners were in their 80s, and hadn't upgraded the place during the 23 years they owned it. Spotless, but a pass for us.

Peg's got Canada fever again, so I'm back to trying to gather up the documents required to fly across the border. I have my Canpass, asked her to confirm hers, but the TSA docs apparently got lost in the mail last fall. This could take a few weeks to fix, so I need to get on it today lest the early winter in the Maritimes precludes the trip again this year.

Of course, the plane's in the shop for its annual right now, with no firm completion date. I expect it'll be ready in a week or so, but one never knows. They did tell me that it'll be time for a new or rebuilt engine this time next year, so P and I need to start setting aside enough money to have $100k available when the big day arrives.

This weekend, inshallah, we'll ride up to the lake after work for Friday supper at the Canandaigua Yacht Club, then lie around a bit on Saturday before going to see Alison Kraus at CMAC with friends on Saturday. I'm betting there will be some golf in there somewhere. And of course I'll carry a satchel of work with me, in my endless quest to catch up.

Things could be worse. TGIF.