Quo Vado?

A couple of months ago I purchased a tea cup for the office. I wanted something a little different than what everyone else was using. I’m currently passing through an anti-handle phase (when it comes do drinking containers). I usually love it when things manage to mix blue and green in an interesting way, that can appear to change just by moving my head. So, I found this larger blue/green tea cup at the local Tevana. It doesn’t have handles, but this intriguing diamond relief makes the sides good for gripping. I loved my unique mug.

Then, Bossman just had to point out how much it looked like painted rebar.

Now, I wonder why there isn’t a metallic taste to my tea - sometimes anyway.

No sooner than I finished thinking that my travel schedule between Halloween and Christmas would be light, and I had two “day-trips” booked. Last Friday I ventured down to the panhandle, and Wednesday I took a trip to Dallas. I cannot decide if I like flying to and from larger or smaller airports.

All four of the flights had plenty of space available. At the moment, I have a whole three seats to myself. I like not having to worry about accidently leaning over on someone - or snoring too loudly. Even better is not having to have the seat arms down. Nothing makes me wish I was a smaller person than a crowded plane. With elbows pulled tightly inward, I struggle not to clench my jaw as my hips cannot help but kiss those of the poor soul sitting next to me. Add to that the juggling of stuff on the too small tray table, and it all feels like I paid for the opportunity to be straight jacketed. I know they have to have so many on a flight to make money, but my mild claustrophobia makes those trips seem so much longer than they are.

The point of living and of being an optimist, is to be foolish enough to believe the best is yet to come.
- Peter Ustinov

Quiet cars suck. No, really. When strolling to gather lunch, I use the sounds of the cars to help guide my movements. I have used engine noise to keep track of traffic behind me instead of looking backwards for years. Never mind that my ear infection filled childhood deprived me of the upper range and that last week’s flights fouled up what hearing I had left, I’ve always counted on engine growls. Now, it seems, they’ve gone the way of Commodore 64s.

I’m not dead. Just mulling too many things. There will be reviews of the two episodes of Studio 60. There may be some other things forthcoming. I’m just feeling this need to be silent for the moment.