Spitball Army

So there I was, sitting at the red light at the intersection of Valley Avenue and Green Springs Highway, windows down in the post-work late afternoon in an attempt to circulate the stale hot air to the outside.

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It is easy to identify with the book’s protagonist and author Jean-Dominique Bauby, in full-body paralysis, as I am wedged between the triple-pane airplane porthole and Diane and Walter, curled up in a human ball next to me with their DVD player.

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Rain;
The library;
The Dexateens’ Singlewide

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I read the e-mail message completely, rather than deleting it immediately, as it was obviously not spam. I have been receiving e-mails for some other Fred for years, and they rarely have been of much consequence. This day I was feeling frisky, so I decided to have a little fun.

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I went over to Atlanta a few hours early last Tuesday, before dinner and the Josh Ritter concert, planning to do some exploring in the High Art Museum.

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The clickety-clack of the rear claws of one of my cats running down the hallway into the bedroom to find the source of the thud…

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I hesitated barely a millisecond before touting my yard sale coup after scoring a $3 Polaroid camera some while back. I still consider the camera a bargain, especially since, after finding some fresh film, I discovered that it works almost perfectly.

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Before he arrives at the White House, he will probably be forced to sign off. In addition to concerns about e-mail security, he faces the Presidential Records Act, which puts his correspondence in the official record and ultimately up for public review, and the threat of subpoenas. A decision has not been made on whether he could become the first e-mailing president, but aides said that seemed doubtful.

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I thought I’d get to the polling place by 6:00 a.m. and be the first in line, or close to the first. Then, last night, it dawned on me that I would have the privilege of waiting just as long at the #1 position as I would at #56. So I take my time getting to the community school polling place, arriving at around 6:20. Coffee mug in hand, I step into the line. I am indeed #56.

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Heading north on 22nd Street toward University Blvd.

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