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Sep. 18th, 2004 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickThe remains of Hurricane Ivan hit last night -- mostly heavy rain here, but the tornado warning sirens went off in Bedford last night about the time I got off work. This morning, I took some pictures of the water going over the "new" spillway, the one we added to the lake to make it more floodworthy when the goverment told us to do so in the early 1980's. Several local roads (including Route 30 and 915 at the bridge downstream from us) were closed due to flood issues but the lake spillways weren't even stressed.
La, Ash, and I went shopping for boots and incidentally ran into some flood tourism en route (Flood tourism: visible flooding conditions), mostly just pasture creeks overflowing their banks. I picked up a nice pair of outfitter-style boots with the flippy fringe on the toes that, five years ago, I would have considered way too gay for public wear. The style's grown on me, though, and thirty dollars for solid, 100% leather shoes is a steal. Factory outlet, sort of a thing. Ash picked up a pair of cowboy boots that did not have lame rounded toes. Apparently this is a style consideration of some importance, the lack of lame rounded toes.
While driving to and from Martinsburg (the shoe place), La regaled me with more tales of the not-a-Vampire romance novels, one of which I reviewed here not that long ago. La's friend Amy is apparently a big fan of the damn things and the reason La has been reading them. She asked how I liked the one she loaned me (it's still at my house) and I allowed as how I panned the hell out of it on my blog. She laughed and fessed up that she loaned me one so that I would understand the extent of their lame-i-tude. They're like a train wreck... looking isn't all that pleasant, but somehow it draws the eye anyway. She's loaned me another, this one called Dark Magic. I'm about halfway through it and when I get done, we'll take a look at the deliciously purple prose involved in these damn things.
We stopped at WalMart on the way home, where I picked up Between a Rock and a Hard Place, a nonfiction account of a kid who went out hiking and wound up taking his own hand off when it got pinned by a boulder that shifted under his weight. I'd been meaning to read it, so I got a copy, tucked it under my arm, and headed toward the pet section of the store because I also needed to buy sustenance for the felines. On my way to the Purina Cat Chow, I passed a little girl in a short-sleeved dress, the sort made out of t-shirt jersey that little girls wear in warm weather. It had a pleated skirt and a scoop neck and it was royal blue. She was blond, had a Prince Valiant haircut, and was a little chubby. I don't think she was more than seven or eight. The thing that I noticed about her first, though, was that her left arm just ended, halfway between the elbow and the wrist. I couldn't stop in the middle of WalMart and ask the girl if she, trapped when a boulder shifted, wound up having to take her own hand off at the wrist... but I thought about it.
There's a lot I think about that I do not do.
Back at La's, I watched ... part of a movie with explosions and Daddy Daycare (Eddie Murphy is a handsome man and he's got gorgeous facial expressions). I also hopped on Nick, my insane red horse whom I fully expect to take up on the mountain tomorrow. She needs mileage but she's terrified of motor vehicles, which makes riding difficult. I have no desire to die on the hard road when the horse explodes in front of a car or truck. The mountain up back of my house is steep enough to take the starch out of her and remote enough to not have motor vehicles, so we should both survive the experience. I hope. Anyway, she did fine with the being caught, bridled, and walked around the yard today. I have the rudiments of steering and brakes. These will not get better if I don't get on her more. And damn, she's cute. I can forgive a lot for cute, including "bucks like a bronc".
La, Ash, and I went shopping for boots and incidentally ran into some flood tourism en route (Flood tourism: visible flooding conditions), mostly just pasture creeks overflowing their banks. I picked up a nice pair of outfitter-style boots with the flippy fringe on the toes that, five years ago, I would have considered way too gay for public wear. The style's grown on me, though, and thirty dollars for solid, 100% leather shoes is a steal. Factory outlet, sort of a thing. Ash picked up a pair of cowboy boots that did not have lame rounded toes. Apparently this is a style consideration of some importance, the lack of lame rounded toes.
While driving to and from Martinsburg (the shoe place), La regaled me with more tales of the not-a-Vampire romance novels, one of which I reviewed here not that long ago. La's friend Amy is apparently a big fan of the damn things and the reason La has been reading them. She asked how I liked the one she loaned me (it's still at my house) and I allowed as how I panned the hell out of it on my blog. She laughed and fessed up that she loaned me one so that I would understand the extent of their lame-i-tude. They're like a train wreck... looking isn't all that pleasant, but somehow it draws the eye anyway. She's loaned me another, this one called Dark Magic. I'm about halfway through it and when I get done, we'll take a look at the deliciously purple prose involved in these damn things.
We stopped at WalMart on the way home, where I picked up Between a Rock and a Hard Place, a nonfiction account of a kid who went out hiking and wound up taking his own hand off when it got pinned by a boulder that shifted under his weight. I'd been meaning to read it, so I got a copy, tucked it under my arm, and headed toward the pet section of the store because I also needed to buy sustenance for the felines. On my way to the Purina Cat Chow, I passed a little girl in a short-sleeved dress, the sort made out of t-shirt jersey that little girls wear in warm weather. It had a pleated skirt and a scoop neck and it was royal blue. She was blond, had a Prince Valiant haircut, and was a little chubby. I don't think she was more than seven or eight. The thing that I noticed about her first, though, was that her left arm just ended, halfway between the elbow and the wrist. I couldn't stop in the middle of WalMart and ask the girl if she, trapped when a boulder shifted, wound up having to take her own hand off at the wrist... but I thought about it.
There's a lot I think about that I do not do.
Back at La's, I watched ... part of a movie with explosions and Daddy Daycare (Eddie Murphy is a handsome man and he's got gorgeous facial expressions). I also hopped on Nick, my insane red horse whom I fully expect to take up on the mountain tomorrow. She needs mileage but she's terrified of motor vehicles, which makes riding difficult. I have no desire to die on the hard road when the horse explodes in front of a car or truck. The mountain up back of my house is steep enough to take the starch out of her and remote enough to not have motor vehicles, so we should both survive the experience. I hope. Anyway, she did fine with the being caught, bridled, and walked around the yard today. I have the rudiments of steering and brakes. These will not get better if I don't get on her more. And damn, she's cute. I can forgive a lot for cute, including "bucks like a bronc".
