DARK AND LIGHT

There was something of a light show on the rocks in the Granite Dells yesterday afternoon.  As the sun peeped out of some angry clouds to the south, a shaft of light would illuminate sections of the rocks while the rest were dark.  Imagine an early prospector seeing this as a sign of where to look for riches.

And here's the sky filled with clouds that occasionally allowed a bit of light to peep through.

It looks promising for moisture but as far as I know only a bit of rain came down.  Nice view, though.

TJ'S UPDATE

Since I happened to be in the area this morning, I thought I'd take a couple of pictures and give you an update on the construction of the Prescott area's first Trader Joe's store.  The view is from behind and above.

And in case you have any doubt, there are now a couple of signs decorating the property.

A construction sign further up the road says the store is opening in 2012.  Other spaces in the mini-strip are available for lease.

SUNDAY SERVICE



MY WHISKER THEORY

I had my big black boy-cat on my lap the other day and I was admiring his whiskers.  They seem to be very, very long to me. 



But then I was thinking as I was uploading this photo . . a cat has whiskers for a reason - to warn him when he's getting too close to something or heading into a hole that's too small for him.  They are, in essence, curb feelers.  Now Blackwell has become a very big cat, though as I was trying to weigh him the other day he seemed to be only 17 pounds, which isn't really all that big, I guess.  But if he's pretty wide, he probably needs extra long curb feelers.  I wonder if whisker length varies from cat to cat to accomodate their different sizes.

I didn't come to a real conclusion on that.  But I think my theory may be correct.  The whiskers have to be sort of like what people are saying is wrong with our economy - too big to fail.

FRIDAY NIGHTS AND WEEKENDS

(Check the calendar.)

Yup!  It's Friday night!  Yay!  Hoorah!  Pour me another!  Tequila shots!  Yeahhh!

Back when I was working for a living, Friday nights were time for unrestricted bacchannalia.  (Stop.  Check the dictionary.  Yup.  Spelled that last word correctly.  Proceed full speed ahead.)

Where was I?  Oh, yeah, Friday nights.  As many of us as were left around the t.v. station where I worked and could be convinced that this was the proper way to celebrate the end of a week would head to a bar.  First it was the Mardi Gras.  On to the Playboy Club.  Then the Spaghetti Company.  Later a place our well paid weatherman from the station was a partner in.  Can't remember the name but they poured very healthy (or unhealthy) drinks.  Then it was the Tavern on the Green.  All along Central Avenue in midtown Phoenix.  I think only the Spaghetti Company still exists.

In spite of the fact that we were the responsible journalists and television technocrats in town, we always drank just one more.  One too many in many cases.  Wow!  If I could calculate the gallons of booze that we disposed of in those days, I think even the Guinness folks might be interested.

Of course, there were some flirty Friday nights that sometimes developed into more serious encounters.  I think I'm one of only a few of that long ago gang that is still married to the same woman.

Heady times.  We ruled.  Well that was a long time ago now and since I've been fully retired, I frequently don't even remember when it is Friday night. 

When a gal at the pharmacy asked me last Monday "how was your weekend?", I was stuck for awhile for an answer.  I finally told her "y'know every day is the weekend for me these days."



You know, somethin' tells me old Jerry Lee didn't have too many Lonely Weekends.

PACEMAKER BLUES

I had a pacemaker installed after I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation a few years ago.  Since then I've had it replaced once.  Actually what I have just under the skin and above my heart is called an Implanted Cardioverter Defibrillator.  But everyone just calls it a pacemaker. 

About every three months a guy from the manufacturing company runs a check on it to make sure it's still operational.  That happened today.  No problems.  Everything intact and working correctly.  He did say that the machine indicated I had no natural heartbeat.  I responded to that with "let's be sure we keep that pacemaker working then."

Frequently the medics ask me if I feel better.  I always say the same thing.  I never even knew I had the atrial fibrillation before it was diagnosed and nothing has made me feel any better. 

The guy who checked me today said "in this business, no news is good news."

So I keep on (artificially) beating along.

All of which reminded me of this band.



I don't know whether any of those young men have ever had heart problems that caused them to have pacemakers installed. 

But they sure have gotten older.

Same band, same song . . . different era.

 

BIRD(S) ON A WIRE

I know I've used this image before.  Not this exact one.  I just snapped this one today.  But a similar one.  Or maybe even "ones".  I may keep returning to this theme.  It's just that a flock of birds . . and they're not all the same kind . . gathered on wires like this just fascinates me.

When I was a little kid, there was a big tree in an alley about a half a block from my home.  It was called "the Big Tree."  I don't remember what kind of tree it was but it was huge and was easily climbed by a young squiggler such as myself.  I could get high in the tree and not be seen from the ground because of the leaves.  And there were places where the branches formed hollows and resting places, where I could lie back and contemplate the universe.  Or maybe the hurts and insults I had been dealt on any given day.  It was my hiding place.  I can remember that there were some wires that ran through the very top of the tree.  Probably telephone wires.  But I can remember one particularly dark day when I climbed to where I could easily reach those wires and I leaned forward and took one of them into my mouth.  I had no idea what would happen.  I assumed maybe instant death.

That must have been a particularly dark day.  But what happened?  Nothing.  I think there was only about a voltage of 9 volts in those wires and low amperage.  Had they been electrical wires, I think I would have had to have instant contact with two of them at the same exact instant to do any harm.

Who knows why kids in their moments of despair . . now long forgotten . . do the things they do?

Well.  I know this.  This photo I took today and these dark thoughts gave me a reason to introduce the great K.D. Lang in a bravura performance.  Bird On A Wire.