Spitball Army

One bittersweet discovery was a cardboard box of cassette tapes that must have been in the trunk of my car at one time. There was a Sting mix tape without even one Police song (huh!?!) and a Fats Waller mix tape (hooray for Fats!!), and four really mixed-up mix tapes titled “Fred FM,” volumes 1, 2, 4 and 6.

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During an overhaul of the basement this past weekend, I found a lot of junk. Most of it had been there for so long that it was irreparably damaged by moisture – moisture in the air, primarily, though there was some ground water damage on a few things. The majority of this stuff made its way into garbage bags and hit the road this morning when the trashmen made their rounds.

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4:14 p.m. CST
Election Day
4 November 2008
Birmingham, Alabama

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The following sight greeted me as I made my morning trek through the backyard, and I could only imagine the drama that had occurred in this spot during the night.

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With this classmate in mind, I had programmed Mick Jagger’s “Old Habits Die Hard” instead of other possibilities, which could have included ELO’s “Evil Woman” or The Rolling Stones’ “Bitch.”

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I received an e-mail from a daily reader of this blog. In it, the reader complained of this blog’s recent infusion of political content. The reader’s note referred to it as a “disgusting trend.”

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It is easy to see that this challenge smacks of the dieter’s challenge. “Maybe I’ll have just one extra slice/bite/drink…” Is it truly just a matter of will? How old will I be before I realize that I no longer need that deluxe DVD edition of The Lion King?

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Just recently, I heard – on one of the reality shows I occasionally watch (I think this might have been Bravo’s Top Design) – someone exclaim, “Oh, travertine,” through a grimace. Has travertine become a sign of poor taste?

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Popping up seemingly overnight, as if from earth’s oven, was this blossom of mushrooms in my backyard, looking invitingly like a generous cluster of Nilla Wafers.

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“Isn’t It Nice to Be Home Again” (1971) by James Taylor

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