There’s an increasing trend in denser neighborhoods of people putting up “little lending libraries”. In my neighborhood, there are two old newspaper dispensers – the kind where you’d put in some change and the handle would release, you’d open it up, and grab a paper from a stack inside – which have been unlocked and made available for book swapping. In my son’s neighborhood, which is a little more upscale, a number of people have built miniature houses with glass front doors and a couple of shelves inside. Some of them are marked “children’s books only”, and my son loves rifling through them and bringing a couple of books home when we take the dog for a walk. Some are all-purpose, and on a recent walk with my dog, I found a copy of Thomas More’s Utopia in one of them. I hadn’t read it since college, so I thought what the heck, I’m vaguely underemployed these days, let’s have a go.
SEA to PDX
I hugged my son and smiled at my ex-wife. I get extra time with my son on Tuesdays and Thursdays this summer after his morning day camp, as my ex works in her local supermarket in the floral department a few days a week. She had met our son and I at a pizza place after her shift was over, as he had requested pizza and it was way too hot to cook. I had to take a redeye to Atlanta that night, which meant I had to leave straight away to go to the airport, so our switchover was a bit hasty, also switching over the leftovers from the pizza feast.
Crows
Living in moderate climates with a dog means you spend a lot of time with crows, whether you want to or not. Dogs and crows enjoy similar things – namely, smelly rotting things on sidewalks and parks – and they are constantly engaged in a low level contest to consume such things before the other can get to it. My dog gets along with crows as well as any other dog, I suppose, which I appreciate as I enjoy spending time with crows, and if they really didn’t get along, I’d not have the opportunity to spend time with them.
Take a safety break!
Alan’s water bottle had slid off the armrest and out of reach. I was mid-Sunday morning tired, and needed some air. We had an hour to go until we got to the berry patch.
REST STOP, 1/4 Mile / Volunteer Coffee Available, said the white on blue sign (indicating “information or services” according to interstate sign iconography)
Limbo calling
I’ve been a bit on edge lately, which among my friends hasn’t been particularly surprising. The relationship I was in recently ended, I’ve been chronically underemployed, and the long days of Seattle summer mean there’s simply more time to fill. In other words, I’m bored.
I doubt anyone reading this is surprised by this revelation. After all, I’m just starting a post of my writings online, which typically is driven by a combination of boredom and narcissism that enables someone to write enough to maintain a steady output of writing, and to feel confident enough in their own importance to post it on the Internet. Surely, Peter, the reader is saying, it’s obvious that you’re bored. Please, dear God, don’t bore us.