Monthly Archives: December 2004


Happy Hogmanay!

Here’s hoping 2005 will be one of the best years ever.



It’s time once again for Wednesday Wreck of the Week!

While not technically a WOTW, Mr. Capp took this picture of the freshly-washed 1962 pumper truck still in use by the city. Next week, maybe I’ll post the latest house fire picture published in our newspaper and you all can decide if there’s any connection.


Since I had some free time on my hands, a stack of New York Times Sunday Book Review Editions, and a lot of encouragement from Brian, I thought I’d try my hand at a cut up poem.

The Twilight Landscape

This relentlessly grim story
Is a study in anguish.
It purges us of nothing.

His melancholy visage
Exuded enigma, beauty and perfection.
Sentimental and coldly scheming,
Myths accumulated around him.

He was an image of what music might look like;
A picture of extraordinary grace.
He was a superb horseman
And a person of wealth and power.

And so she made a Devil�s bargain.
Devoted and flagrantly unfaithful,
He played her like a hooked fish;
Reeled her in with his promise of passion.

In and out of khaki.
With a quiet intake of breath,
He embraced darkness and silence.
The Devil�s party, indeed.

After the thing intended was accomplished,
His exquisitely mixed motives
Left her alone in the twilight landscape.
He walked away and never looked back.

She could not lift her eyes to watch.
Her hatred refused to provide a catharsis.
She had to forgive everyone and damn no one.


On my walk home from the Y, I found a Jamaican five dollar coin in the street. I was quite bummed to discover that it is currently worth eight US cents.


I’m off from work all this week. Mr. Capp has all sorts of stuff planned. By that I mean, stuff he wants me to get done while I should be loafing around the house.

For example:

Mr. Capp: The dishwasher isn’t working.
Me: Let me spend Sunday morning fixing it.

Mr. Capp: The sink upstairs won’t drain anymore.
Me: Let me spend Sunday afternoon snaking it.

Mr. Capp: The water pump on my truck needs to be replaced.
Me: You’re kidding, right?
Mr. Capp: You replaced the one on your Volkswagen.
Me: How is that relevant?
Mr. Capp: Are you saying that you won’t do this for me?
Me: I’m not replacing your water pump.
Mr. Capp: I’ll pay you $25.
Me: …


Mr. Capp and I went to Midnight Mass in town, since we didn’t have to make the drive to The Big City today.

Halfway through, I leaned over and asked him, “When do we all start shouting that we want Barabbas released from prison?” He replied, “At the next service you attend.”

Merry Christmas, everyone!


At the local post office, I handed two packages to the lady behind the counter. She picked up the first one, noted the local address and said, “You know, this would get there sooner if you just dropped it off yourself right now.”

I assured her that I knew this, but that then the package wouldn’t be a surprise if I showed up at their door with it in my hand. In that case, she said she’d drop it off for me when she left work.


This morning I (literally) spent an hour scraping through the inches-thick sheet of ice on my windshield. I had to borrow some de-icer from Ms. Ho’s Gentleman Friend just to get the key in the door lock. Once the key was in, it still wouldn’t turn; when it finally unlocked the door, the door wouldn’t open. I had to jack open the back passenger-side door and lean over to the front to start the car and push open the driver’s door.

If I had heat in my car, I could’ve just turned it on to defrost and gone back inside the house. Instead, I remained outside and scraped. I had hoped that whatever I didn’t remove would melt off later. No such luck, since the high temperature was in single digits this afternoon.

In other news, my mother said I didn’t “have to” drive to her house for the Mandatory Christmas Eve visit. I’d thought it was because of the heater issue, but it was because they’d received ten inches of snow and no one could get in or out of their neighborhood. I’m so happy to not be driving anywhere for the holidays, I may even try to get out and see what all the “last minute” shopping hubub is about.