The pangs have begun; withdrawal, denial, then dark anger, an entire winter to consider my loss and rejection. February 7th is a long time away. Must attend to the rending of garments straightaway, though, what with all of the gnashing, wailing, and sackcloth to be donned.

Ahem. Quite.

The Wife had a Girl Scout commitment, so I had the girls for the evening. We had dancing between dinner and bedtime, silly and unembarrassed dancing, since no one was looking. We were treated to a couple of rounds of Kraftwerk, some Depeche Mode, and then they learned how to mosh to Ratt (I canna deny my love for the 80's). XM Radio once again adds to my day. At least the peals of their merry laughter drowned out the questionable lyrics of the Damned. Catchy tchune, though, I mean, if you're into that sort of thing. Not that there's anything wrong with it.

'Twas a meaningful ending to an uneven day. The signature of some workdays is progress made, collaboration, well, collaborated, or even complete wreckage which leaves you stumbling out to the car shell-shocked. All are recognizable and easily filed into their proper slots. Today was filled with aimless switching among the blogs, tapping the bar for another email pellet, and waiting for the shoe to drop on a 'situation'. It did. Order has now been restored and all know their place in the machine.

Sometimes you're the hammer and sometimes you're the anvil.

Tomorrow's efforts will have more purpose, I'm even double-booked for meetings where I'm truly needed. Hurray for the even keel.

Oh, jocularity, why hast thou forsaken us?

Inscrutable Adult Duty #38 (I'm sure that's how it appears to the children) completed at the nearby firehouse. Ran into the incomparable and Only Democrat I Ever Voted For, Bruce Roemmelt, who was manning the gauntlet outside the door.

Lines were long at the polls, even at 9:45AM, and the man directing traffic inside said the turnout had been solid. Our elecronic voting machines and smart cards seemed to work well. A few people kvetched about the location changing, but five minutes online or even looking at your card would have saved you the trip to the old place.

My afternoon:

We see his book. The page has written on it:

1265 Riverside Drive
Toluca Lake
1 body (no head)
Bloody shot-up car
Jules (black)

He writes:

Vincent (Dean Martin)
Jimmie (house)
Bonnie (9:30)

Election returns at hand. Ta, for now.

I did get a little charge during the fueling stop, given the hostage situation that occurred there earlier this year. You never know whom you might brush up against. That "On The Run" market has been rebranded "On The Lam" by my tribe.

There was also a distinct lack of jocularity today.

I know I run the risk of becoming a complete bore, so I pocketed the four Through-The-Viewfinder shots of Autumn leaves last night. Dead horse and all. Yeah, yeah, we all have the seasons, so perhaps another time. Instead: this gripping account!

Tomorrow, parent-teacher conference and with much restraint and lack of kookiness will I mention the school's posting of kid's birthdays and full names on a website. It's been pulled given my note which used words like "unconscionable".

Hack-hack. Zot. Ow.

Some seasonal painting by Maggie.

This happens to be exactly how the trees around here look today. Most of them have turned Fall colors and many are aching to drop their leaves. We'll soon by surrounded by pokey elbows and gnarly fingers waving over us, like a bunch of witches raising the roof.

Cause da roof is on fiyah. We don't need no water. Let it burn.

A little stupified tonight, after a fast dinner and some trick-or-treating in the dark (we forgot the flashlights, but it was warm!), so I'm staring at the rubble on my desk here at home. To wit:

• A notepad detailing the increases in my health insurance premiums
• CD of the programs at the 2006 USENIX conference in Boston
• Four 3.5" floppy disks, contents unknown, labels not to be trusted
• A roll of film, exposed, contents also unknown
• An Alumni sticker from my college
• A smashed penny with an imprint from the Udvar-Hazy Center
• A roll of slide film, unexposed
• A small magnet, part of "Refrigerator Shakespeare"- the word is 'codpiece'.
• A scrap bearing a root password from years ago
• Extra Tao XM2Go battery
• A microcassette, labeled '9/21 JMG'- interview with my grandmother
• Blistex
• Pair of hospital wristbands from Margaret's arrival, "BG Morgan"
• A bundle of slides from my trip to Germany in 1998
• 100-watt GE Reveal lightbulb, unburnt
• "Christmas in the Loudoun Valleys" pamphlet, details local Christmas tree farms
• Two CDs of digital photos and scans
• Two safety pins
• A Kansas state quarter, an Israeli coin
• Three roofing nails
• Paint can opener, doubles as bottle opener
• And for completeness, pens, pencils, many beyond use, but quite helpful at holding my desk down

I dare not look too far afield here in the basement office. The list would be staggering to type, but it's all somehow comforting to live amongst.

Now, back to examining the Internets.

schlep

schlep or schlepp also shlep (shlĕp) Slang.

v., schlepped or schlepped also shlepped, schlep·ping or schlepp·ing shlep·ping, schleps or schlepps shleps.

v.tr.

To carry clumsily or with difficulty; lug: schlepped a shopping bag around town.

v.intr.

To move slowly or laboriously: schlepped around with the twins in a stroller.

n.

An arduous journey.
A clumsy or stupid person.

[Yiddish shlepn, to drag, pull, from Middle Low German slēpen.]

It is the season of the schlep. Yesterday was excessive, primarily concerned with the toting of large rocks, placing said rocks into something approximating a stone wall, pawing and muscling firewood, then dragging a mildly stunned four-year old up a muddy, rocky trail in the dark. For miles.

And now, for some odd reason that I can't place, I've no heart for the six miles that need to be run today. Yet, I must.

The firewood is my least favorite part of the winter. We love the woodstove for the almost free heat it brings in these times of expensive hydrocarbons (peak oil!), but the schlepping, feeding, and sweeping, oh my. I discovered that my attempts to keep the stuff dry provided a summer home for a Sodding Mouse; a nest complete with various chewings and excretions, each a vision of hanta virus, right in my own yard. And before you run off to the Brittanica to learn about the Virginia Sodding Mouse, I confess my love for all things Anglo including the slang.

Saturday night was an ankle-twisting "Halloween Safari" given (well, we paid $15 for three of us) by the Friends of Bull Run/Bull Run Mountain Conservancy. After eschewing the fire-scorched marshmallows, the kids hiked up the mountain and were occasionally entertained by people dressed in costumes of local critters. The mockingbird and the bobcat (Now! With Extra Vermont Accent Goodness!) were crowd pleasers. Somewhere around the half-way point, it turned into some sort of cruel trick: Ha-ha, we have you now! Jaw clenched, silent, and determined, we escaped. Never a more luxurious feeling than dropping into the seat of the Subaru.

The evening finished, warmed by woodstove, soothed by Sam Adams, and entertained by the Lileks archives. I couldn't last until the time change, like an old man on New Year's Eve, so we greeted it in the morning light, already doing the calculations, "but it's really 9:30, instead of 10:30".

Spring forward, Fall back.

Regular readers of this blog probably notice that I post lots of pictures here; indeed, it's 52.34% of my traffic. I happen to live in an area of natural beauty *subliminal man* until the developers get through with it *subliminal man* and sharing that is occassionally well-received. I'm also a father, with a long commute, and a job where I stare at computers all day, so my inclinations to sit down and write deep, well-thought and edited posts are few and far-between. Plus, sometimes, oh hell, mostly, I'd rather just shirk and drink beer, like tonight. But this time, I won't rely on the photo, since this is a shot I never could have gotten.

The past three days have seen the blustery arrival of fall. We've had temperatures in the 30's at night and wild, leaf-stripping wind tearing at us. The winds have brought a steady flotilla of thick, battleship gray clouds, angry-looking bunches with blue sky showing between them. They move through, threatening rain or worse, but don't deliver, instead driven on by the gusting winds. In a somewhat apocalyptic mood yesterday, I noted their marked similarity to something from which the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse might emerge, altough I'm sure I really meant this. That, coupled with my supposition that the end times were surely upon us because it was snowing in Columbus, Ohio, in Oc-freaking-tober did not escape comment by my colleagues, I can assure you.

But, I digress.

Tonight on the way home from work, most of the western sky was cloudbound, with slivers of silver peeking through near the zenith and changing color to a pale orange near the horizon. I drive into that western view every day and can appreciate a good cloud cover to block the sun from my eyes. Now, the nifty part. I noticed a break in the clouds very near the horizon, a mix of dark sky and pale orange showing. In that gap was the most gorgeous crescent moon, a dark-orange sliver, not more than a couple of days old. It was something from an alien sky, tipped far over in setting, with a sliver so narrow and smooth and painted with golden light, as to not be recognizable as our pockmarked friend, the Moon.

My mind, of course, shot to the camera and "where to stop" and "would the clouds hold for long?" Knowing it was an impossible shot, I gave up and soaked it in, certainly below the 45-mph speed limit. A mile later it was gone but it's with me now, and perhaps some with you as well.

Technorati Tag: luna

The current pumpkin count is 6, for those keeping score at home.

And, a pumpkin, when dropped to the hardwood floor behind the dining table, sounds dreadfully similar to a head smacking the floor. Sans visual confirmation, we both drew a breath and waited for the screams that, thankfully, never came.

Gorgeous weekend. Maggie's 'Hello Kitty' birthday party was a success. The kids are in bed and there's still chocolate cake to be had.

w00t!

Technorati Tag: autumn