Downtown Pensacola; Tuesday Night

Dinner at V. Paul’s Italian restaurant. It was a delightful dining experience. I had an Absolut Cucumber Martini, the best Martini I’ve ever had, Vicki had the Limoncello Thyme Martini, which she declared “delicious.” For the entre’ I had Linguini Alle Vongole with mussels, pretty good but not spectacular; Vicki had Spaghetti & Meatballs. She said it was good, but gave her leftovers to the homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk. We shared a bottle of Reisling with dinner, which made everything blend very nicely.

The restaurant’s soft light, quiet atmosphere and marvelous service made the evening one to remember. Prices were reasonable/moderate. We will be back.

Revolver

I remember hunting whitetail deer with this .357 magnum many, many years ago. After two seasons of sitting in the snow, getting cold, bored and never seeing anything to shoot at, I gave up. Deer hunting was one of the least interesting activities in which I have ever engaged.  Retrospectly, I’m glad I never had the opportunity to kill a deer. While I’ve shot squirrels, rabbits, partridge and a few other small game animals, I never derived any great pleasure or satisfaction from the killing sports. On the other hand, I do remember some fine meals of rabbit stew, roasted partridge, and pheasant pie.

I still keep a collection of firearms, and even fire them occasionally – rarely, but only at paper targets. The cartridges in this holster belt have somewhat corroded and have over the years, undoubtedly, lost some of their explosive power. Soon, I will take them out, polish them up and replace them in those same loops, maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, the guns sit in a cabinet holding on to memories of times long past.

 

Neighborhood

Thick fog muffled outdoor sounds in the late night. No one heard the wrecker pull in and park behind the Mercedes sedan. The operator worked quickly, quietly. He jacked up the car, removed the mag alloy wheels, set the car down on cement blocks, and silently drove away.

The following day, a neighbor came home for lunch; saw the expensive, violated car sitting on blocks, knocked on his neighbors door and wondered whether anyone noticed the theft of their neighbors wheels. “What kind of neighborhood are we living in that something like this could happen?” It was near noon. He knocked on the owner’s door. She was shocked, but not entirely surprised to see her car sitting as it was.

Several months earlier, she financed the expensive wheels and tires, but failed to make payments. After many unsuccessful attempts to collect, the finance company repossessed their property.

The car owner shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t make my payments, so they came and got ‘em. I’m getting them back, I just have to go down and make a payment.”

Dark nights still bring in thick fog, the atmosphere is still eerily quiet, and there is no vigilante group to keep watch for furtive thieves. The Mercedes owner has her wheels back and all is as it should be in the Deep South neighborhood.

Abandoned

Abandoned cabin cruiser sits in front of a derelict shrimp boat. Both have been abandoned for several years.

Along the Bon Secour River, which flows into Mobile Bay in southern Alabama, there is a large fleet of deserted shrimp boats. Some are huge, some rather small, but they all have been abandoned. Hurricanes or tropical storms have severly damaged most of them. Speculation is that they are too damaged to repair (repairs will cost more than the boat is worth). Other possible reasons are that the shrimp fishery is too depleted and competition too intense, the boats have paid for themselves and owners are no longer interested in the grueling work of shrimping, but then who knows.

Regardless, The Alabama Abandoned and Derelict Vessel Fund, established June 2018 and managed by the Secretary of the Alabama State Law Enforcement Agency, is for payment of the seizure, removal, transportation, preservation, storage, advertisement, appraisal, and disposal of a derelict vessel. Effective June 1, 2018 Act 2018-179 relating to derelict and abandoned vessels, authorizes the removal of a vessel from the waters of Alabama under certain conditions by a law enforcement officer or a private property owner.  Previously, a property owner was responsible for legal fees, and litigation required to remove a derelict vessel from his dock. The costs were prohibitive.

Cracked and peeling paint, mold, and slime shows the typical condition of the abandoned fleet.

A smaller derelict craft lists to one side, tied to a crumbling dock.

Disaster Strikes near Richmond

Downed utility pole lies on the lawn of farm just west of Richmond, Illinois

Lightening struck and knocked down a utility pole during the late evening hours Tuesday causing widespread power outage to a farm just west of Richmond, Illinois. Richmond is a small town about 70 miles northwest of Chicago.

Both lanes of Illinois route 173 were closed nearly three hours while a utility crew cleared downed power lines. Early morning traffic was backed up nearly an eighth of a mile in either direction. As of 2:30 this afternoon power still has not been restored to the affected farm, although crews are on site working to repair the damage.

As a result of this disastrous electrical outage residents on the farm have been deprived of highly informative radio and TV political advertising campaigns more than 12 hours, just days before the critical mid-term elections. This is not “Fake News,” however, despite the far reaching implications of this natural disaster; the white house thus far has failed to respond.

Residents of the farm have returned to their fields to resume the fall harvest and have been unavailable for comment.

Late

#@%&! I’m late
No time to shower…or shave
It’s cold…put on 14 layers of warm clothing
No breakfast…or coffee
I can still make it on time
Out the door
#@%&! Frost on the windshield

A Timeline

Primordial Ooze
Life Forms Evolve
Opposable Thumbs
Competition
Greed, Power, Money
Godot Defined for one species
Knowledge Quest
War Machines
Silicon Chips
Artificial Intelligence
Knowledge Shared Among Machines
Opposable Thumbs Irrelevant
Artificial Intelligence Evolves
Cooperation, Collaboration, Communication
Godot Redefined
Higher Knowledge Unnecessary
Life Forms Irrelevant
Silicon Chips Disintegrate
Primordial Ooze

My Place in the World

That one place…a place that feels like home…the place I belong?
It’s been the quest of my adult life.
As mysterious as the darkness beyond the reach of the car’s headlights on a pitch-black night
racing to punch through into the light
maybe around the next bend
that one place…
…my place in the world?

Anticipation

Some days the anticipation of going out
Is heavily outweighed
By the laid-back comfort of all
That’s right here.

There’s no burning need to step outside
Anticipation of the unknown
Is heavily outweighed by the comfort of all
That’s right here.

Anticipation

December Leaf

There are no horizons,
New or otherwise,
For the fallen leaves of December.

New Horizon

No One Plays Here Anymore

She was a little girl then, she had dolls and tea parties. But that was then, before the door and shutters were broken, when the window boxes were tended and pretty little flowers grew. She’ll be leaving home soon, to go to college, begin a career, start her own family. Then she’ll buy a cute little playhouse for her own daughter to play in…during the summer…for a couple years.

 

September Rain

Fallen leaves
Late September rain
The last swim has been swum

A wet cherub attends the pool
supervised by
an empty chair

H2O

Morning

A nice cup of tea
A wee spot of brandy
Another fine day begins

Morning

I am Not Stubborn!

Writing socks? What a stupid idea. I have one pair of special socks – my Christmas socks. They’re about 20 years old and I’ve worn them about 20 times. I used to wear them thinking people would admire me for my wondrous Christmas spirit, my joie de vivre, my delightful sense of humor. In 20-plus years, nobody ever noticed my colorful socks. Turns out, Christmas socks, like writing socks, are a stupid idea.  I’m going to get rid of them…maybe next spring.

For a short time I did have a writing hat – stubbornly held on to it, until it started to smell bad, and it never did help my writing.  Another stupid idea.

I once had a boss who told me I was stubborn. Apparently she thought she had hired a “yes man.” I advocated for good ideas, usually my own, and held on to them until proven wrong, which even now rarely happens.

Stubborn? What does it really mean? I am not unreasonable, obstinate, inflexible or immovable, but when I’m right…I’m Right.

To label me stubborn is quite simply stubbornness in itself. Be reasonable for cryin’ out loud.

Stubborn