The Pensacola Post-Prep Post (upd 05/17)
Posted: Tue May 07, 2013 7:49 am
Pensacola! Nice town! Lots of music down the street at the park. Marathons passing by, young kids flopping like fish, old ladies with an amazing economy of motion gliding by, some guy on a public address "here comes Margaret, come on, you can do it, yay." There are pick-up trucks . . .
I have only two weeks with one customer in Maryland hoping I make it even less than that, to finish up this section of the book, try a template for this website that will be a wholly different appearance if zabo can be sufficiently inspired (thanks, zabo!) to execute, finish up tech articles with the exploding photographs, reset the torsion bars and put in new bushings, pull engine and stick in a new front seal/flywheel o-ring and sand that clutch disk/pressure plate, install the new (old) oem fuel pump with genuine anti-percolation valve, and and and . . . all the things I can't remember but are necessary, oh yeah, help Jack install a convertible top on his '79 White on White Beetle Cabriolet, and install a new new thermostat since the new one currently installed has failed, and try a new (very old) end plate in the generator since I hate the rebuilt generator's crinkle-shimmed wallowed-out endplate on this "rebuilt" generator that I rebuilt in the National Forest above Los Alamos last summer. Is this my life?
There are other lives. This cat, for example, look in his eyes. Totally at the bottom of the heap of the pecking order. Has been beaten up time and time again by the bully orange one. Treated me like I was some sort of radioactive Godzilla dog for weeks! Slowly slowly did I try to make myself a neutral presence in his periphery. Made little kitten noises for his buried memories to consider to the point where I thought I must be going daft (you got something better to do, Colin? I THINK SO). Such skittishness, such anxiety, such a hyper-alert reaction to what has been a cruel world to this kitty, and now he has to figure out a kitten-squeaking bald man in cut-offs?
Well, after nine weeks or so, this cat now leaps for pets, nuzzles and lick and gnaws playfully, does this embarrassing shoe lick where I feel like some horrid old medieval king (don't worry, my online Visa bill straightens that out in a hurry). Now I feel the pressing responsibility for softening this cat's outlook. The orange bully looks on scornfully as this cat seeks his petting fix. God? What Hath You Wrought of Us?
Colin
I have only two weeks with one customer in Maryland hoping I make it even less than that, to finish up this section of the book, try a template for this website that will be a wholly different appearance if zabo can be sufficiently inspired (thanks, zabo!) to execute, finish up tech articles with the exploding photographs, reset the torsion bars and put in new bushings, pull engine and stick in a new front seal/flywheel o-ring and sand that clutch disk/pressure plate, install the new (old) oem fuel pump with genuine anti-percolation valve, and and and . . . all the things I can't remember but are necessary, oh yeah, help Jack install a convertible top on his '79 White on White Beetle Cabriolet, and install a new new thermostat since the new one currently installed has failed, and try a new (very old) end plate in the generator since I hate the rebuilt generator's crinkle-shimmed wallowed-out endplate on this "rebuilt" generator that I rebuilt in the National Forest above Los Alamos last summer. Is this my life?
There are other lives. This cat, for example, look in his eyes. Totally at the bottom of the heap of the pecking order. Has been beaten up time and time again by the bully orange one. Treated me like I was some sort of radioactive Godzilla dog for weeks! Slowly slowly did I try to make myself a neutral presence in his periphery. Made little kitten noises for his buried memories to consider to the point where I thought I must be going daft (you got something better to do, Colin? I THINK SO). Such skittishness, such anxiety, such a hyper-alert reaction to what has been a cruel world to this kitty, and now he has to figure out a kitten-squeaking bald man in cut-offs?
Well, after nine weeks or so, this cat now leaps for pets, nuzzles and lick and gnaws playfully, does this embarrassing shoe lick where I feel like some horrid old medieval king (don't worry, my online Visa bill straightens that out in a hurry). Now I feel the pressing responsibility for softening this cat's outlook. The orange bully looks on scornfully as this cat seeks his petting fix. God? What Hath You Wrought of Us?
Colin