Shower. Walk. Breakfast. Chores. Pack. Mad neck-breaking scramble to get out the blasted door.
Mad neck-breaking scramble home through [non-rush hour, i.e., left work early] traffic to the Landfill.
Change clothes. Pack. Argue with GG about what food to take. Get stuff out of the refrigerator. Put it back. Get it out again. Mad neck-breaking scramble to get out the door into the Frog Hopper. Oops. Didn’t lock the Ninja. Back inside. I was driving so the GG got that loverly duty.
Drove three hours up the I75 SUV Speedway. Roads dry and traffic not tooooo terrible but not quite rush hour yet. Five speed traps. Three vee-hickles stopped for speeding in the West Branch area. Not me. I know better. And no, I’ve never been stopped. I know from watching people get stopped in the West Branch area over and over and over and over again for about a billion years. I go 70 or even a bit under from mile marker 190 until I get off at 227, the HL exit (yes, someone got stopped there tonight). And then they set speed traps on 55 (a 55 mph two-lane) after you get off the dern speedway. I *definitely* think we need highway cops because I have seen some crazy stuff on the freeways but I agree with the GG that having speed traps where cops are sitting around trying to catch people going maybe 80 on a lightly traveled stretch of freeway is not a good use of tax-payer dollars… … …
Sundown shortly after we got off the I75 SUV Speedway. Cold here at the cabin. Snow but not enough snow to ski. Didn’t bring skis. Think I need some new skis. I never have quite gotten along with my boots and I *hate* my bindings. Anyway, there’s not enough snow to ski. I will walk instead. I have my YakTrax.
Bar food at the North Shore. Friday night fish fry in honor of Grandpa Garth. Greasy but too
busy lazy to organize better food ahead of time. Utility food.
Apple TV on the Group Home’s big-ass TV. No Beverly Hillbillies. I watched a Beverly Hillbillies movie last night. Randomly. I mean it was *on* so I watched it. It was made in maybe the 1990s? Cloris Leachman was playing Granny. It was all pretty stupid but I laughed my you-know-what off. When I was in third grade, I was allowed to stay up until 9:30 one night a week to watch TV. I picked the night the Beverly Hillbillies were on. Oh, the GG just put Lesley on for me. There were some scary moments during the 2012 campaign when Lesley’s anthem was about all that kept this baggy old feminist type person going. That and throwing things at whatever media I was reading / watching / listening to. (Oh, I’m just kidding, you guys. Sorta.) Now it’s Crimson and Clover. Memories of 9th grade. I think our “class colors” were crimson and silver. I suppose clover isn’t a color? Like a lot of the songs on the radio in those days, I never really listened to or understood that song’s lyrics. Although I never mistook the lyrics “Leaving on a jet plane” for “Lincoln on his death bed”. Nope. The Commander, listening to a girl singer / guitarist during the “talent” part of a church mother-and-daughter banquet in about 1970: “Why is she singing about Lincoln on his death bed?”
I was skeptical about Apple TV at first but, heck, if the GG wants a new toy, he can have one, especially if it’s one that doesn’t take up a lot of space (this is just little connectors and things). Now I hear that it may allow us to give up cable TV? Hmmm… Then we could get rid of the big-ass TV in the Landfill back room. And by big-ass, I mean one of those trenormous old Sony Trinitrons. Truly a big ass. Anyone want it?
I think I have hit new heights of random blather tonight. I am sorry. I am toadily roto (ducking so Mouse doesn’t hit me). When I started writing this, I was thinking in monosyllables. Now I am deep into diarrhea of the keyboard. Alas, I am still thinking in monosyllables.
G’night from the C Fam’s Group Home at Houghton Lake,