These blog posts are getting fewer and further between. Life just gets like that sometimes. The past week was about as busy and stressful as I expected it to be- no more, maybe even a little less- yet each night, in my traditional before-bed writing time, I didn't have the words or the energy to sum it up.
So here you go, some pictures at an exhibition of the past week. Some with even actual pictures;)
Two days on the road for work this week. Neither had court in the morning, so I didn't have all that much stress on the drive. Tuesday began with me making an overdue appointment for JARVIS to be serviced. To get to service, you of course have to go through the Smart showroom. And there, never before seen by these eyes, was my mid-life crisis car:
The Little Tykes ragtop. I freely admitted it wasn't much of a life or a crisis, and of course a wag immediately replied, Or much of a car.
I then took a detour a few miles south before making the eastbound run on the 90- onto old US 20, which in pre-interstate days was the main route from Boston to Buffalo and beyond. I just get tired of the same old sights every day; there was a certain comfort in passing through the forgotten fourlanes of generations ago, from Alden to Alexander and past Attica before rejoining modern roads just south of Batavia. (Two mornings later, when I did take the 90 eastbound, I just missed a major crash in the westbound lanes which killed a 45-year-old UB Nursing School professor.)
Wednesday was best remembered for what I didn't have to do: I got out of a drive clear across town at 8 a.m., then another downtown at 9:30. I did eventually take that latter trip around lunchtime, but it was on my schedule, plus, you know, lunch- and I also broke in the Buffalo Roam app on my phone to use for onstreet parking. No more fishing for quarters or fussing with receipts that fall into JARVIS's hungry dashboard: you click, you pay from an enabled online account, you walk away- and you can even add time remotely if your business takes longer than expected. The convenience fee for this is a modest 10 cents per use.
Eleanor had a doozy of a day at work herself Wednesday, so we kept things relatively quiet. Other than keeping up with Doctor Who, we haven't been watching all that much of late, and haven't gotten out to see Wonder Woman yet, although that will likely change this week.
Once arriving in Rochester Thursday, things went quickly, and when a 2:30 appointment stood me up, I was able to get home a little sooner to run some post-work errands in advance of an important-for-me exercise of both body and soul. For several years, local religious communities have sponsored a Walk of Abraham during Ramadan, uniting the three faiths sprouting from that Biblical tradition and any others who care to tag along. It begins at a Presbyterian church quite close to home, proceeds near (and in prior years stopped at) a reform synagogue a few blocks to the east about a mile up, and ends at the town's Islamic Center, 4½ miles from the point and place of beginning. I wasn't there in time or in clothes to begin at the beginning, plus they asked for canned-food donations, so I came home first, changed, grabbed some cans from the pantry and found a parking lot just short of the halfway mark, planning to walk back when the post-walk programs were under way.
I didn't know a soul- yet- but got to know several of them on this part of the walk- and others who joined at the designated one-mile-to-go spot for jumping in. The throng was bigger going in to the mosque-
-including the minister from my most recent congregation, back in town after a one-year exile in the wilds of Wayne County, now retired from Methodism and entering new connectional ventures. I sat with him for the speakers and presentations in the mosque's equivalent of Your Church Or Synagogue Here's Fellowship Hall, ordinary and traditional middle-class American in every respect except one- better food:
Our hosts did not formally break their fast themselves until the 8:54 p.m. moment of Ramadan sundown, but they were gracious about letting the hungry start a few moments before that. We stayed longer than I'd planned, and Rich wound up giving me a ride back to where my car was.
Yesterday, Eleanor and I continued in that spirit of inclusiveness. There's a Muslim family two doors away from us- we've seen them coming and going, and their daughter waiting for the bus, in at least partly traditional dress. There are some Trumpernutters in this neighborhood, and on days like yesterday when small bands of crazies were mounting Anti-Sharia Law protests in cities (some attended in the tens), you can't be too careful. So we went over, introduced ourselves, gave the husband our names and phone numbers and emphasized that we welcomed them and would do anything we could to make them feel welcome and safe. It was a little slow going, maybe due to awkwardness, but we ended with smiles and handshakes and I felt we were carrying on the best of the three faiths, even if neither of us is particularly connected to any of them at this point.
On Friday, I got this computer back. Did I even mention its brief absence? It needs some periodic cleanings to keep cat hair from overwhelming the fan and overheating the damn thing. A month or so ago, my friend Lisa rehabbed my backup laptop, in part by baking its motherboard, and it worked well enough so she could take her time and do the best she could at the repair of this one. I'd backed up all needed stuff to my trusty external drive and/or to the cloud, so I wasn't worried about it.... until Twobor was home, his data all restored, and that very external drive decided yesterday that it didn't want to work anymore. So I got a new one. Probably should back everything up to it again before I start putting too much more data on this one, huh.
The drive wasn't the only thing to break on Saturday. Eleanor went out for a bike ride, and while I was puttering around trying to get the old external drive to work, in came a call and a text: could I put the rack on the car and come get her? The derailleur on hers had ground to a halt and there was no getting home on it.
Did I mention we'd never put the rack onto either of the Smart cars? We wound up getting it done without instructions, but some of the connections are a little tenuous, and it's not exactly centered on the back, but it went on fine. The bike itself, not so much; since women's bikes lack the higher crossbar (for no reason other than Victorian tradition), the bike store sold her a brace that duplicates its function during transport. Which, naturally, I forgot. So on the second trip, we got the bike onto the frame, and she got it to Bert's, where "derailleuer suicide" was promptly diagnosed and promised to be repaired by 10 this morning.
That worked perfectly with my usual 8 a.m. run to the dog park, except we usually don't stay there for two whole hours. Despite fine weather and plenty of company from old friends and new, we were out by 9:15. Silly to come home, so we found us a second park- one more for people, although Ebony was still welcome on a leash.
I grabbed my breakfast later than usual and ate it under a tree while the dog just took it all in:
The breeze was delightful (even though I think it blew a bug of some kind into my eye- it's been Visined and looks and feels much better now), and we got to the bike shop just in time to wrestle the Townie back onto the rack and safely home. Since then, I've mowed the back yard, we've caught up on the Doctor, have an Orphan Black warming up in the clone pen, and the Mets are three outs away from their third straight win.
There. All put in the books.