Spitball Army

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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Yesterday, I dropped off some mail at the P.O. and asked the nice lady if any new commemoratives had been issued yet this year.

“Yes!” She sounded almost as excited as I was.

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This year I pledged to make good on my internet yapping and mail Christmas cards, something I haven’t done for many, many years. It turned out to be a pleasantly satisfying experience.

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I drove to the pool at 5:00 a.m., despite the cold and wind. By the time I arrived, the sky had begun to express itself with intermittent spittles of rain. I had nearly completed half a mile in the outdoor pool when the lifeguard shut it down.

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Turning west off the interstate, he drove straight toward the beach, a mere ten or so blocks from the highway, where the sun was beginning to sink into the ocean. The sight was stunning and humbling.

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Yep, I’ve gone back to shcool to learn how to spel!

But, really…My nephew Nicholas’ 8th grade class in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, is fundraising this weekend by gift-wrapping at their local Barnes & Noble store.

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I also have a really soft spot for Cornershop’s “Good Shit,” if only for its unabashed positive vibe. “Good shit’s all around, good people / Don’t let it get you down, good people / Good shit’s all around, it’s all around.” Repeat. Repeat. And if four-letter words aren’t your thing, the song’s got a groovy cross-cultural shang-a-lang beat going on that I know you won’t be able to resist.

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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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Diane and Walter, my new travelling companions, are married and live just south of Birmingham. It takes me fifteen to twenty minutes to extract this information from them. Good thing I’ve brought a book with me.

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