Non Sequiturs are De Rigueur
I watched a filter wash today, leaning on the cold aluminum railing while I hosed the silt-laden meringue off the top as the filter drained. If you don't, it sticks to the walls and congeals, and there's no way to get to it to scrub it off. The new polymer (8185) seems to make more suds than the old.
I have the plant all to myself for three days, all the quiet, cool, damp rooms my own. I sit by Grandpa's date palm in the lobby with the sun on my back in the mornings. The smell of Bud's cigarettes- the spice of burnt paper most noticeably - has permeated every inch of our watery world. The plants seem to like it, and I find I don't mind.
Bud is moving me to the Tuesday through Saturday schedule (and seems quite pleased with himself for arranging me a four-day weekend without using any vacation time at all, since I did ask for the 9th and 10th off). I'll enjoy working with him, but I'm a little nervous. He'll get a very good idea of what I know and what I don't, and I hope I don't disappoint him. But I'll also get to learn from him, which will be rewarding.
Tonetta called this afternoon, so bubbly and serene that the bomb she dropped is just now sinking in. Multiple Sclerosis at 27 years old. I didn't cry, and I think she was glad. I just kept thinking of the way she used to twist the gold ring on one of her long, tapered fingers, of her glossy chocolate skin and the whitest teeth I've ever seen. I wonder at us ten years ago, blissfully ignorant of the hurdles we would face in the next decade, agonizing over things so petty and inconsequential now that I can't remember them. We once ran to the Chula Vista mall together at the latest possible hour to have our upper ears pierced at Claire's, tiny metal rods shattering fragile cartilage, to celebrate some pact or other. Our bodies and their inherent failure were an afterthought in those days. (I have little gray spots where my ears never quite healed, and I can only force an earring through one of them. Our adventure made sleeping painful for a year.)
On a lighter note, I'm going on the record to say I think I've finally made up my mind about the heir to my beloved little SUV. Meet the FJ:
I have the plant all to myself for three days, all the quiet, cool, damp rooms my own. I sit by Grandpa's date palm in the lobby with the sun on my back in the mornings. The smell of Bud's cigarettes- the spice of burnt paper most noticeably - has permeated every inch of our watery world. The plants seem to like it, and I find I don't mind.
Bud is moving me to the Tuesday through Saturday schedule (and seems quite pleased with himself for arranging me a four-day weekend without using any vacation time at all, since I did ask for the 9th and 10th off). I'll enjoy working with him, but I'm a little nervous. He'll get a very good idea of what I know and what I don't, and I hope I don't disappoint him. But I'll also get to learn from him, which will be rewarding.
Tonetta called this afternoon, so bubbly and serene that the bomb she dropped is just now sinking in. Multiple Sclerosis at 27 years old. I didn't cry, and I think she was glad. I just kept thinking of the way she used to twist the gold ring on one of her long, tapered fingers, of her glossy chocolate skin and the whitest teeth I've ever seen. I wonder at us ten years ago, blissfully ignorant of the hurdles we would face in the next decade, agonizing over things so petty and inconsequential now that I can't remember them. We once ran to the Chula Vista mall together at the latest possible hour to have our upper ears pierced at Claire's, tiny metal rods shattering fragile cartilage, to celebrate some pact or other. Our bodies and their inherent failure were an afterthought in those days. (I have little gray spots where my ears never quite healed, and I can only force an earring through one of them. Our adventure made sleeping painful for a year.)
On a lighter note, I'm going on the record to say I think I've finally made up my mind about the heir to my beloved little SUV. Meet the FJ:
It recently surpassed the Honda Ridgeline and the new four-door Jeep Wrangler as the most covetable new vehicle that meets all of my demands, and there I think it's going to stay. No carpet! Not a scrap! Suicide doors! It's Toyota tough and it's got three windshield wipers. Plus it's cute as a bug's ear and so darn cool. Those of you who have been privy to my indecision and fickle automotive affections these past two years or so, feel free to tease me if I change my mind again. But I'll be surprised if I do.
It's still about a year out, though, even if I order it in December or January- according to one dealer in Salt Lake City, demand is high and supplies are limited. (For the record, this vehicle is not nearly as attractive in banana yellow or electric blue, or even pearly rich dark cherry or black, the only other color options, hence the delay in my surrender to its considerable charms. And sometimes I think it looks like a Mini Cooper on steroids.) Oh, and one more thing- it's bigger than it looks.
It's still about a year out, though, even if I order it in December or January- according to one dealer in Salt Lake City, demand is high and supplies are limited. (For the record, this vehicle is not nearly as attractive in banana yellow or electric blue, or even pearly rich dark cherry or black, the only other color options, hence the delay in my surrender to its considerable charms. And sometimes I think it looks like a Mini Cooper on steroids.) Oh, and one more thing- it's bigger than it looks.
posted by A at
10:25 PM
2 Comments:
Great choice A! I love the FJ the same way that I hate Hummers. One day I saw a new FJ parked next to a new H3, I swear I could almost envision the FJ lifting a tire to pee on the H3 the way that a dog would pee on a fire hydrant. I was in Fort Collins Colorado last night for the 4th, I saw one of the Dark Cherry ones go down the street, which looked pretty cool...
Yay! I have yet to find anyone who's not an FJ fan. It does rock the H3 off its lumbering, posturing chassis.
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