I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

I was reading a bit of Thoreau's Walden, and his discription of a man, whose old family home--several years abandoned--had burned to the ground, as the village fire brigade stood by.

Thoreau was out on one of his walks the next day, when he chanced upon the last remaining son of the family that had lived there, leaning over the cellar hole, now filled with smoldering ash and blackened beams, moaning with grief.

The man greiving did not turn away at Thoreau's approach--as the writer, instead of judging, offered his sympathies. Thoreau was shown the well the man's father had dug, fifty years before...the old well sweep, the hand-forged iron hook for the bucket. Which, as Thoreau pointed out to his readers, was now the only tangible thing the man had, to remind him of his former life at the abandoned home.

Now some would not have understood why someone would grieve for a home long abandoned...but it's not the building one grives for--but the last tangible proof of the life that had once lived within those walls. The loss of memories, the loss of childhood security, of a piece of land that was beloved--just for it's being, that can wound the soul, every bit as much as fire can burn the walls into ash.

If Sunday was lovely, Monday was the opposite: it was the pits.

I got an e-mail at work from the office manager, over the weekend. It said that casual dress was off, for Monday, and we were to dress in our posher "professional" attire. So, I planned on wearing my nicest dress (well, not the evening gown, obviously)..but, in mid-afternoon, I went to pull my last pair of stockings out of the drawer, and...huge hole just below the knee!

Oh dear. So, it was trundle off to Walmart for a cheap pair of black pantyhose..took my film with me, while I was at it.

It was a muggy, moderately warm day, and the store had its air conditioning turned off. I dropped off the film--to the "one-hour" photo place, and had an hour to kill. I stopped at the in-store McDonalds for a cold sweet tea, then "window shopped through the store, stopping to pick up a quart of milk and a packet of instant mashed potatoes, and my pantyhose...wouldn't you know?

They only had "off-black" colour-- whatever the hell that's supposed to be..sort of a cross between black and grey? Well, it was only a dollar, so I bought it, in the hopes that no one would notice that my pantyhose didn't exactly match my black and cream dress.

about half-past two, I got hit with a stomach virus, or possibly a particularly bad side effect from my metformin--without going into detail, I barely made it to the ladies...and suddenly felt very hot, weak and rubbish. So, I go to the one-hour photo....

....only to be greeted with, "there's been a problem." Oh, but of course there has been.

Well, the pics all came out, but the photo person didn't run the machine right, and they had to redo some things, so my pics would be another half-hour. Which didn't please me...it can easily take upwards of 45 minutes (or more) to get the 2 miles via city bus from Walmart to my apartment in the city...and it was getting on towards 3pm, and I had to be at work at 4pm. It would be cutting it very close--rushing home, showering, changing into the dress and stockings, makeup, etc...all while I was having stomach cramps, sweating and feeling really rotten.

I got to work, and...half the staff was dressed casual (jeans and tees)--in fact, a couple had come in, wearing holey frayed jeans and wrinkled shirts. So, I'd gotten off the bus, bolted upstairs, showered and changed, for NOTHING.

At work, the people I was calling were ALL a bunch of ill-mannered misery guts. Two hours of living hell. I destest coming in contact with these ill-mannered nasty proletarian Americans--yech! What a bunch of mean little cardboard people...they should be banned from swimming in the gene pool.

And, last night, there was the crap with my computer suddenly deciding to mess up my toolbars on its own...and then I had insomnia and couldn't sleep until almost 4am.

If Sunday was perfect, Monday sucked.

Car Park of Magic Forest children's theme park, home to the last remaining diving horse show, in the entire United States:

Looking towards the paddocks of Wild West Ranch, from the back of a horse:

An Adirondack mountain bridle path, as seen through the horse's ears. That's my trail guide, "Bob," in front. He's a native Adirondack redneck, complete with a Fu Manchu style 'tache.

The last time I posted this pic of the twee pony, it was cut off, cos' it was too big for the blog page. I edited it, so this is what the photo really looks like:

North Korean dictator Kim Jong Ill is said to be dying of cancer. Sources say he also wants to lob a missle at either South Korea, Japan or the United States, before he dies. He said he wants to go out "with a bang."

Tardisgurl e-mailed me, saying she thought perhaps somehow my computer had slipped into "full screen" mode. She said to hit "f11" Well, I'd tried all the "f" keys, several times, last night. But, figured this morning it wouldn't hurt to try just one more time--So, I hit f-11 and...it worked!

Both my bottom and top tool bars are back!

I'll have to buy a new keyboard, probably. This one seems to be developing a mind of its own, of late. I got it used, from a co-worker, and it's just a cheap one ($10) from Walmart, so I'll nip in there and get a new one, some time this month. Meh, I can't complain, really, I only paid $5 for the keyboard, and have had it almost 8 months.

Thanks for the help, Tardisgurl!