Pair of Dice Lost
February 1, 2000
Dave,
"Well I entered your address in my address book and sent you an email, but I don't see the mail and I don't see the address, so I screwed up again. If you got the big email let me know--it was bit long. To suffice:
"Well I entered your address in my address book and sent you an email, but I don't see the mail and I don't see the address, so I screwed up again. If you got the big email let me know--it was bit long. To suffice:
I lost my
job.
I have a
month to move.
I plan to
become a Nevada citizen and live in Mexico .
I have a
lot to do in 30 days.
Rita is
puking and has the flu.
It's
raining like hell.
You can
reach me at 555 555-5988 ground line for 30 days.
555 555-4567
Nokia Cell--will monitor irregularly after 20 days don't leave a message.
555 555-1234
3-watt Motorola Mobile--to be monitored on the road.
Tomorrow I
get my radio and fan off my desk and ask the mob what it is that I am not
supposed to remember so that I will understand what it is that I have forgotten
that they are worried about. Hope the men in black didn't bother you.
Maybe you
can give me advice as to how to set up a Nevada
residency, a mail forwarding account, Nevada
vehicle registrations, etc.
You'll be
hearing from me as emergencies allow
Sorry the
other note was much longer and I don't have time to repeat it all today as I am
pushing daylight.
(charles and rita jac)
A Passing Thought
February 27, 2000
Charles:
I hope you will print this out for RITA. Thank you and good luck. When you guys settle down if you want to find me I will always be at whoami666@hotmail.com or at martinscamkars@yahoo.com.
"Mr. Washington was a HARD-CORE LAWN freak. His yard and my
yard blended together in an ambiguous fashion. Every year he was seized by a
kind of herbicidal mania. He started fondling his weed-eater and mixing up vile
potions in vats in his garage. It usually added up to trouble. Sure enough, one
morning I caught him over in my yard spraying dandelions.
"Didn't really think you'd mind." says he,
righteously.
"Mind, mind!----you just killed my flowers."
says I, with guarded contempt.
"Flowers?" he ripostes. "Those are
weeds!" He points at my dandelions with utter disdain.
"Weeds," says I, "are plants growing where
people don't want them. In other words," says I, "weeds are in the
eye of the beholder. And as far as I am concerned, dandelions are not
weeds-----they are flowers!"
"Horse manure," says he, and stomps off home to
avoid any taint of lunacy.
Now I happen to like dandelions a lot. They cover my yard
each spring with fine yellow flowers, with no help from me at all. They mind
their business and I mind mine. The young leaves make a spicy salad. The
flowers add fine flavor and elegant color to a classic light wine. Toast the
roots, grind and brew, and you have a palatable coffee. The tenderest shoots
make a tonic tea. The dried mature leaves are high in iron, vitamins A and C,
and make a good laxative. Bees favor dandelions, and the cooperative result is
high-class honey.
Dandelions have been around for about thirty-million
years; there are fossils. The nearest relatives are lettuce and chicory.
Formally classed as perennial herbs of the genus Taraxacum of the family
asteraceae. The name comes from the French for lion's tooth, dent-de-lion.
Distributed all over Europe, Asia, and North
America , they got there on their own. Resistant to disease, bugs,
heat, cold, wind, rain, and human beings.
If dandelions were rare and fragile, people would knock themselves
out to pay $14.95 a plant, raise them in greenhouses, and form dandelion
societies and all that. But they are everywhere and don't need us and kind of
do what they please. So we call them "weeds," and murder them at
every opportunity.
Well, I say they are flowers, by God, and pretty damn fine
flowers at that. And I am honored to have them in my yard, where i want them.
Besides, in addition to every other good thing about them,
they are magic. When the flower turns to seed, you can blow them off the stem,
and if you blow just right and all those little helicopters fly away, you get
your wish. Magic! Or if you are a lover, they twine nicely into a wreath for
your friend's hair.
I defy my neighbor to show me anything in his yard that
compares with dandelions. And if all that isn't enough, consider this:
Dandelions are free. Nobody ever complains about your picking them. You can
have all you can carry away. Some weed!”
by
Robert Fulghum 1989
Martins
Hole in the Jaw
March 1, 2000
The
weekend after my last workday, Rita fell and punctured her jaw. She had low potassium
levels and had to be taken to the hospital emergency ward and pumped up with intravenous
potassium.
We
spent the rest of February putting wheelbarrow loads of 'spare' stuff in the
gurney so that we would 'fit' into the motorhome; Putting the finishing touches
on the towing rig; arranging personal affairs (including) mail forwarding, and
arranging to get hold of the rest of my 401(k).
On
the last day of the month we almost pulled up stakes and headed out. Well it
was raining a monsoon by the time we were ready to hook up and Rita was
hollering at me instead of helping. If she would have helped, we would have
hooked before the monsoon hit. As it was, I got completely drenched and
sidetracked by her yelling and the great deluge, I forgot to pull the plug
(30-amp that is). I stopped just out of the stall and was extremely depressed,
what with emergency hospital bills too. I straightened the prongs with my
pliers and hoped for the best. We headed for our first monsoonal drive thru the
mountains on the way to Scott’s Valley.
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