Over $5.00 A Gallon

     I had put off filling up my car.  I started out the non-war war with a full tank and who knew, maybe it would all be over before I ran out.

     It isn't.  I nearly did.  I had too much fun this weekend to remember to get gas, and when I set out for work today, the tank was much lower than I like.  The only name-brand station on my way downtown that I'm comfortable at is at 49th St., and it's rarely the cheapest.

     But an $85.00 refill is painful.  Gotta have it, and it's not like I can't cover the cost, but it's a bigger bite than I'm used to and indications are that the price of oil isn't done going up.  Almost anything that happens in the Middle East right now, especially around Iran, is going to reduce the availability of oil.  Some events will have longer lasting results, but over the next thirty days, you can count on the stuff costing more, even if there's a sudden outbreak of peace, goodwill and brotherhood: damaged refineries and seagoing traffic jams don't get sorted out overnight.

     My present bet is that we're headed for a recession at best.  Oh, our country and the planet keep lurching towards them, and dodging at the last minute by shoving one industry or sector into the mud for awhile as everything else goes roaring past; but sooner or later, someone's going to miss a step, and the damage will become widespread.  Wars, declared or not, have a tendency to break the rhythm.  That can be helpful if things are already really bad; but if they're on edge, not so much.

     Me, I'm going to get my motorcycle tuned up, and shop for saddlebags so it can be more a commuter vehicle.  Mechanic's fees are a one-time cost; gas just keeps on going up.  The motor scooter will follow -- I love it, but 10" wheels and Indiana roads after a harsh winter aren't a great match.  Unlike my car, the motorcycle and scooter will burn regular gas, too.

Fencing the Fences

      Or maybe I should title this "Dancing With Termites, Mold and Rot."  I have now spent part of the last two weekends working on the fence around Roseholme Cottage's back yard (and clearing away underbrush on the fencelines, too).

     The long fences along the property lines belong to my neighbors, one of whom knows it.  But the short runs that connect those fences to the house and garage, each one with a gate, are mine and they're in sad shape.  Over the last two weekends, I have hammered in reinforcing bars for the two wobbly posts in the stretch that has the gate we use most and it's stable enough to last another year.  Maybe two.*  Today, I trimmed the bottom of the gate where it was scraping the sidewalk, and reset the latch and padlock hasp.

     Then it was off to the big gate in the back fence.  The gateposts are massive; I replaced one last year, and the other one is a 6"x6" and still solid.  But it's got a tiny bit of fence hanging off it, 15" to a 4"x4" post and that post has an airgap at ground level.

     Or it did.  When I realized what was going on, I looked around and found they make yard-long tapering spikes, with a socket at the top for a 4"x4".  I bought one spike and a pressure-treated post, and proceeded to hammer the thing in where the old post had stood,  It ended up far more solid than I expected.  The company that makes the spikes warns you to not expect too much, but once I replaced the 2"x4" cross ties near the top and bottom, linking it to the gatepost, it was very stable.  I screwed the old fence boards in places and it looks as good as it ever did -- only it doesn't sway.

     With all that accomplished, I reset the latch and hasp on one more gate, and refastened more crosspieces and boards that had come loose over the winter. 

     It was hours of work, but the fence and gates are in better shape now.  In celebration, I aired up the tires on my highwheel bicycle, got it out, and...  I can't mount it.  My knees have been bothering me for some time, and I'd about worn myself out with the outdoor work.  I just couldn't get it up to speed and make the big push to get in the saddle.  I aired up the mini-highwheel instead, and give it a quick run up and down the alley.  Clearly, I have some conventional bicycling and honest exercise ahead of me before I can climb up on the big 36" wheel and go for a ride.
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* I have two different versions of these in place and they're clever, four-foot-long steel bars that you hammer in between the wobbly post and the concrete or packed earth it's set in.  You end up with a bit more than a foot of it exposed, which has a zigzag pattern of holes for long screws to hold it to the post.  Set them on three sides, and unless there's nothing but mud under the post, it's pretty steady.  It's not as good as digging everything out and starting over, but it's much better than the other fixes I have tried.

Scooter At Last -- Lawnmowing, Too Soon

     It wasn't really too soon to mow the yard.  The little white flowers had passed their peak, the violets are flourishing, and the dandelions--  The dandelions have much too good a foothold.

     Sunday, the weather was nice: not overcast, not rainy, not chilly.  It wasn't even very windy.  After Meet The Press, Tam had range work (followed by her weekly appointment with ribs at Fat Dan's Deli) and I had a nice long soak in warm water.  By the time she back, I was ready for the day.

     Tam had loaded the dishwasher before she left.  I started a load of laundry, checked the lawnmower batteries and put the low on on the charger, and went to work finishing up the new battery in my scooter.

     One of the cell covers had been misplaced and once I had the old battery off, I borrowed one from it.  With the new battery in place -- which is only awkward, the rubber strap that holds it in place is tricky to fasten -- I tried a rubber stopper for the open cell in the old battery.  Too big!  I managed to whittle it down to fit and packed the battery away in the box the new one had come in, with a little baking soda for luck.  I had looked and looked for missing stopper all the previous week without finding it.

     I kick-started the scooter without too much trouble (but that's why the year's first start isn't electric; you can run a new battery flat that way) and let it idle until it was happy while I checked and refilled the tires, checked the lights, and realized with a sinking heart that I hadn't updated the sticker on the plates -- and I had no idea where the paperwork had got to after my desktop water spill last month.

     Went in, babysat the washer though a spin cycle (it tends to get out of balance) and went back to the garage to get the mower out.  Naturally, there were snow shovels and snow-sweeping brooms piled atop it; by the time I had the thing out, it was time to watch the second spin cycle and then load the dryer.

     Meanwhile, the lawn care crew for our neighbor to the north had been and gone and our new neighbor to the south had finished her mowing -- and the vegetation in the front yard of Roseholme Cottage was standing high and wild between them, starting to look like a set for Tarzan-of-the-Chipmunks in contrast!

     Time to fix that.  The grass was high enough -- and still damp from the week of off and on rain we'd just had -- that I set the mower to its highest setting.  The strip between the sidewalk and house went fast enough, and I had the front yard about two-thirds done before I needed to empty the clippings.  The rest of the front and the narrow side yards filled up the clipping bags again and I'd started on another before it was done. Gave the back yard nearest the house a quick pass just for luck, before I put the lawnmower away.

     Inside, to get cleaned up a little and see if Tam was interested in dinner (she was not; a nice rack of falling-off-the-bone ribs is a substantial meal), and see if maybe, just maybe I would find the 2020 stcker for the scooter plates.  It turned out to be right about where I'd hoped it would be!

      So I gathered helmet, gloves, riding jacket (it appears to have shrunk since 2006!), put on boots and clomped out to the garage.  In short order, I was zooming up the block, free as a bird.

     The scooter's feeling pretty good so far this year, at least for a few trips around the block.  So I took it for a quick grocery store run: minute steak, Brussels sprouts, baking potato, sandwich fixings for work, Cajun snack mix for Tam, what was I forgetting? Something. 

     Back home, it takes some maneuvering to line the scooter up to back it into the garage.  A couple of feet away from the apron, I happened to look down and there was something black amid the pale gravel -- a squirrel-gnawed walnut hull?  Dead leaf?  Hey, is that--

     It was the missing battery cell cap.  I stowed it, parked the scooter, rinsed it off  and had it in place on the old battery before I took the groceries inside.

     So the old battery is ready to go back, the scooter's back in service -- and I'd forgotten to pick up sugar.  Oh well, the confectioners 10X sugar needs used up anyway.

New Eyeglasses, New Battery, Half-Done

     At least I got my glasses!  Nearly a decade ago, when I still wore contacts daily,* I bought a pair of Julbo "Vermont Classic" sunglasses from the discount/overstock section of Campmor.  If you're light-sensitive they're wonderful, big, round lenses with side and center shields so no unfiltered light gets in.  I liked the look of them.  They're solidly-made and priced accordingly. 

     I thought about having prescription sunglasses made from a pair, but I could never find more.  I thought they'd been discontinued.  Then a few months ago, a targeted-marketing discounter  (Massdrop, who specialize in a number of specific geek interests) offered the exact model of sunglasses at well below retail prices.  I bought a pair and set them back, thinking maybe next time I got glasses, I'd find out-- 

     Yes, they can fit my lenses to them, in a fair match to the tint; they're not as dark as the darkest Julbos, but there aren't a lot of glaciers to climb around here, either.  And they're certainly not the usual sort of thing!

*  *  *

     The new battery for my scooter didn't go as well.  There's no sealed battery in the right physical and electrical size (really, really small), so it's got to be conventional lead-acid.  I should have had the parts store fill it.

     The process never works right for me, no matter how slowly I pour: the cells don't fill, don't fill -- then they're suddenly too full.  It's sitting in the garage right now, and as of last night, the two end ones are too full and the middle four have hardly any acid to judge from the front.  Looking in the top, at least two more looked plenty full.  I'm going to have to go buy a hydrometer or something to reduce the level of the over-full ones.

     Had to move the whole set-up so Tam could run to the five and dime, and managed to lose one of the cell caps!  I've borrowed one from the old battery for now.

     The online tutorials always show the cells of these little batteries obviously filling right up, no time lapse tricks, you can see it through the translucent case.  I have never had that happen; there's a huge lag between pouring and seeing results and sometimes it never does show. 

*  *  *

     The probable kidney stone is making me tire easily.  Yesterday, Tam and I went up to "downtown" Broad Ripple about noon, got my glasses and had a little lunch.  Back home, I worked on the battery and then bicycled to the grocer's while she wrote.  I came home, put groceries away, had a very light dinner and watched a little TV, and realized I was exhausted.  Went to bed by nine p.m. and other than feeding the cats at six this morning, I was not out of bed for more than a few minutes until Meet The Press came on at ten a.m.

It Was A Day To--

     I had the day off, and it was warm, or warmish, upper 40s, so it was a day to start up the scooter with stabilized fuel, and ride it around the block a few times.  I would have gone farther, but it was raining and my wrists are hurting -- wrists and arms, really, and one shoulder, from some work I was doing earlier in the week.

     Built a little charging center of the office, nothing much and there are better designs, but it provides a place for the iPads and Surfaces that isn't on top of the big printer.  That should help.

It's Cold Now

     And it's going to stay cold the rest of this month.  November is not notable for hot weather, so there it is.  No "Indian Summer" this year; temperatures went from eighties to fifties in the course of a day.

     The yard is littered with leaves and I am hoping Saturday afternoon, the yard will be dry enough to set the mower lower and see how much of the leaves I can mow up instead of raking.

     Possibly the roads will be dry enough I can ride my motor scooter a little; I have had very little time in the saddle this year and I miss it.  Between rain and road construction, this wasn't a favorable summer for riding.

     Of course, the gutters need cleared -- gutter screens would be an excellent idea.  Managed to clean them from a ladder instead of from the roof last time, a slightly slower but much safer method.  Maybe I'll try that Sunday.  It will be colder but the work is active enough to keep warm.

Sunday

     So, older sister and I visited the cemetery, with silk floral arrangements for our Mom and for Dad's Mother, who died when I was two and sis was eight.  It's an old and nearly-forgotten place, unmowed so far this year, dandelions all gone to seed.  But there are many trees and there's a creek not too far away, and it's quiet and peaceful.

     Three generations of my father's family are buried there, and some of his and Mom's friends from High School are there, too.  It can make walking through the place unexpectedly poignant: "Oh, here's Goldie...and there's Marvin...."  people my parents knew, people my sister and I knew, at least a little; people whose names are are on buildings and streets in the little  neighborhood where they all lived.  Yes, there's an "X" street, too, named for my grandfather, who owned an auto garage not far from it.

     We left a little quieter than we arrived.

*  *  *

     I picked up a new battery for my motor scooter Sunday afternoon.  I didn't get the old battery out before the weather turned so terribly cold last winter and a short test ride a couple of weeks ago convinced me it was puny and not charging well.  Nobody makes a sealed storage battery of the right physical size and storage capacity to fit the available space, so I end up having to pour acid into the shipped-dry batter, which I don't much like doing.

     Last year, when I was turning in the previous defunct battery and acid container, the friendly countermen at the neighborhood auto-parts store offered to prep the next one for me.  So this year, I took them up on the offer.

     They filled the battery with a casual (but careful) grace that spilled not a drop (I have to keep a box of baking soda and a bottle of water handy), credited me for the dud and sent me on my way.  Once home, I stashed the battery near the scooter, to put in later.  Remember that.

*  *  *

     It was good grilling weather and the corner grocer had a deal on steaks.  It's been hot enough that I was hankering for cucumber-onion salad -- just sliced cucumber and onion, in sweetened, diluted vinegar with a little salt and pepper (and maybe a hint of garlic), so I picked up fixings for that, along with a baking potato and some green salad.

     The grill and hardwood charcoal worked their usual magic; the green salad and potato were great. The cucumber-onion salad was okay, but wanted re-seasoned; this is easily done by pouring off the liquid, making a new batch (sweeter and less salty, with a bit of black pepper) and pouring it over the veggies: these "unpickles" are good for at least a week in the fridge and get better over time.

     After dinner and another episode of The Expanse (Tam is catching up), I went out to the garage to install the new battery in my scooter.

*  *  *

     Everything on an old-fashioned scooter is tiny.  The battery is no exception, easy to sit on its little shelf and strap into place.  Bolt the lugs on the terminals, and you're almost done: it's a conventional battery and there's a vent that needs to have a plastic tube installed.  It's shipped capped, and I noticed the auto-parts guys had left the cap on.

     Heavy "dishwashing" gloves are my preferred protective wear when working with batteries -- even a sealed car battery is pretty filthy after years under the hood and they help avoid that burning sensation.  They're not terribly clumsy to work in but the tiny rubber cap over the vent connection was tricky.  I tugged at it and--
     PFFSSSST-POP!
 
     I stepped back smartly while saying, "Yow!" and dropping the little cap.  There was a faint rotten-egg smell in the air; I stopped inhaling as soon as I caught it, stepped out into the driveway, expelled as much air as I could and breathed in.

     Of course pressure had built up in the battery; the auto-parts clerk had likely assumed I'd be putting it in almost immediately, given the afternoon was pretty good riding weather and we're looking at a week of rain.  I hadn't. I'd left it sitting for several hours in 80-plus -degree heat and thus I'd got a surprise.

     The battery was fine and after a few minutes to let the fumes clear, I finished the job, put the cowling back in place, and rode the scooter up and down the alley a little.  Looks like it'll do!

What I Did On A Day When I Didn't Do Anything

     Yesterday began with reduced expectations.  I wasn't feeling great and had slept poorly.  Still, a day so sunny and warm -- outside temperatures officially reached 55, and felt warmer in the sun -- cried out for doing something.

     Something it was.  I went to fetch the trash can from the curb and stayed to pull up the stalks of last summer's hostas and wildflowers.  That out of the way, I rested a bit and then went to the garage to look for a gadget that should be out there somewhere.  Didn't find it, but I did start up the scooter, and take it up and down the alley slowly before deciding that I'd better replace the battery, which I didn't get out before winter temperatures plunged into the single digits and stayed there.

     After another rest and a bit of lunch, I decided to assemble a typewriter stand I've had for several years.  It turned out to be nice enough that I replaced the ribbon in my Oliver portable to celebrate.  And I did a little --  a very little -- sorting and straightening up. 

     Not bad, I think, for a "sick day."  And I'm taking my medicine and starting to feel better.

Sinus Day Two

     Mouth-breathing last night: my sinuses have recovered enough to be irked.  The Doctor's office called this morning, in part to tell me this is quite, quite normal and to remind me that I can use a gentle decongestant -- Afrin -- starting today.  And by the way, was I rinsing?

     I am.  I have been.  With saline solution dissolved in distilled water and gee, if you forget to shake up the bottle even once, you know it right away.

    I said I'd talk about nasal lavage if it was funny.  Turns out the only funny part is the Coanda Effect, which in this context translates to "mind your elbows:" I'm using a soft plastic bottle to push a saline solution up one nostril; the jet of water that is supposed to be coming back out the other nostril -- and it does -- then runs down the side of the bottle, across my fingers (ew!) and down my forearm (Ew!); if I have had the foresight to push up my sleeve, once it reaches my elbow,  it finally breaks with Coanda and splatters onto my toes until I remember and steer the dripping elbow back over the sink.  If, on the other hand, I have not pushed up my sleeve, water begins to pool inside the elbow of my nightgown until I notice, say bad words, set the bottle down, do a contortionist move to take my arm out of the sleeve without exposing my skin to the cold, cold air, wring the wet sleeve out over the sink out, get my arm back in the now damp and chilly sleeve, which I must push up into a sodden mass out of the way before I return to sinus-rinsing, annoyed and planning to change nightgowns -- again! -- and run the other one through a quick wash -- again!  Naturally, I restart by dripping rinse water from my elbow onto my toes.  And did I mention they have me do a whole bottle per nostril?  Having completed the dance left-handed, I must start all over from the right side.  Or vice versa.

     So that's the big excitement around here.  Oh -- and I'm supposed to do this four to eight times a day.  I managed four yesterday. I'll try for six today.  If the doctor's office calls back tomorrow, I'll gurgle at them.

*  *  *

     Yesterday afternoon, I cheated.  I'd been planning to add winterizing treatment to the gas in my motorscooter before surgery, but it didn't work out.  Yesterday afternoon, temperatures were in the high forties and climbing and I didn't feel too bad, so I went out and put the stuff in.  I'd brought my helmet just in case, and gloves are always a good idea, and you know, sloshing the scooter back and forth only helps mix treated and untreated gas just so much.  You have to start the engine if you're going to get that stuff in the carburetor where it will do some serious good...

Scooter and me, 2007

     So there the Vespa-like Bajaj Chetak was, up on its centerstand on the apron in front of the open garage door, popping and purring away--  And in my coat pocket, oh golly, the garage door opener!  What would you have done?  I couldn't resist.  Helmet on, gloves on, shoes not quite right (boots preferred: you only get the one set of ankles) but securely laced, I took the Chetak for a quick spin around the block, two blocks, three blocks...  Several blocks.  Quite enough to get the treated gasoline all mixed and into the carb, I think, though not quite to any of the major streets and only into fourth gear once.

     It wasn't prudent.  It wasn't cautious.  It pretty much used up all my energy and I retreated back to bed not long after parking the scooter, and slept off and on for fifteen hours.  But it sure was fun!

Sunday Scootering!

     The weather was lovely Sunday, breezy with brilliant sunshine and a few clouds until the afternoon, when the clouds thickened up.  No rain and it mostly just spared the city the worst heat of the day.  After a morning of some housework and a long, lazy soak in the tub reading a LeGuin novel,* I garbed up† and got the scooter out.

     A late donut run came first.  A half-hour before closing, pickings were slim at the local donut shop, where the staff has (after a deliciously overestimated first few months) worked out a keen understanding of any day's likely demand.  I picked up a nice chocolate donut free for nothing, because "You're in here a lot."  (Helps that they are on my way to just about everywhere!)

     Took that home for later and set out for groceries, possibly preceded by lunch in Beautiful Downtown Broad Ripple.  Maybe?

     Well, no.  It was one o'clock; the very kewl foodie place over by the donut shop had a private function of some sort underway, and up in the Village‡ proper, all of the usual place were packed.  "Later," I thought, and went to the recently-opened organo-supermarket** to stock up for the coming week.

     Later was too late; I rode home, put groceries away, took a short nap and found myself in the two-hour gap between Lunch and Dinner.  I went to the closer grocer, got a nice bacon-cheddar burger and some onion, bell pepper and a little jalapeno to fry up and put on top, made dinner, watched a little TV, did more housework and went to bed.

     Still working on the touch-typing thing. Typed most of this without looking at the keys.  I'm still fumbling a lot but improving as I build skill.
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*The Eye Of The Heron, which she says might be part of the Hainish Cycle.  Or,  I suppose, not.  It works either way.  The story looks at ideas similar to those she explored in The Dispossessed... and other stories set on the twin worlds of Anarres and Urras, from a different angle and with Earth-humans as the protagonists.  LeGuin takes a lot of flak from some corners of the libertarian SF crowd, which I think is unfair; time and again, she sets up societies that appeal to appeal to her inclinations or hopes and then points out all the weak points by showing how they fall short in actual practice.

† I keep seeing people on scooters without the least nod towards safety equipment.  Most of the scooters are 49cc "DUI specials," but the road remains as abrasive as it is from a Harley and your own inertia at 35 or 40 mph is the same either way.  Helmet, gloves, padded jacket, boots and my usual Carhartt "Double Front" dungarees are about my minimum, and Tam, veteran of motorcycle commuting and motorcycle accidents, considers even that on the inadequate side.

‡ Yes, "the Village." If it sounds silly to you, take it up with the merchants and other business owners of the Broad Ripple Village Association.

** It appears to be booming.  Meanwhile, the venerable Marsh supermarket chain, with a store a half-mile away, had gone broke.  Marsh was on the way out before the new place broke ground -- but the trend is clear.  Along those same lines, long-established Double-8 Foods, with tiny markets mostly in struggling neighborhoods, failed several years ago and has been replaced by nothing at all, another point on the same graph.

Got Some Stuff Done

     Had a fairly productive day off, for a change.  As in changed oil in my motor scooter, brought the new chair mats in and have mine down already, and made a dinner that I loved: pan-cooked filet mignon so tender it fell apart, a nice baked potato and flash-cooked mixed veggies, with a very small bowl of chocolate gelato for dessert.

     I had seasoned a fresh batch of bacon -- smoked paprika, sage, thyme and mixed peppercorns sprinkled generously over good plain store bacon -- and fried one strip of it in a large skillet, then cooked the beef, browning each side over low-medium heat and then covering it with a pan lid.  Potatoes were nuked during the first of that, then foil-wrapped and set in the oven over the pilot light while an assortment of fresh asparagus, zucchini, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, onion and red bell pepper got the zap.  Turned out very well!

     Tomorrow, who knows -- maybe I'll even get the scooter on the road.  I need to remember to add the 2017 sticker to the license plate before that, though.

Good Scooter News

     I had about given up on the scooter battery.  Trying to be gentle, I had been using the little "battery tender" charger and it was struggling.  Came home last night and decided to give it one more try -- and it worked!  Checked a couple of hours after putting the charger on and the yellow "Charging" led had given way to the green "Storage" indicator!

     Picked up a new funnel for the oil change over the weekend, so now all I need to do is find the time.

Scootin'!

     Yesterday, I finally spent more than mere minutes on my motor scooter.  It's the real deal, a Vespa-like Bajaj Chetak* with a 150cc 4-stroke one cylinder motor and a twist-to-shift four-speed manual transmission with a hand clutch:† big enough to get into trouble, small enough that you'd better have a plan for when you do.

     The scooter started right up with the pedal, just one tap and blup-blupblupblipblupblipblup....!  Tire pressure was okay and the oil--  It's a year old; it wants changing sooner rather than later.  (It's a fiddly job, more like working on a sewing machine.  So that's on my list.)

     I'd topped up the battery a few days earlier -- no one makes a sealed battery quite the right size for these -- and planned on a series of rides of increasing length to see if it was going to need replaced or not. Halfway through the longest trip (about a mile), I stopped to window-shop, and was able to use the electric start!

     So that's looking good.  I'm about due to replace the tires -- or get them replaced, as the wheels are two-piece and the tires are tubeless, so there may be a trick to it -- but with an oil change, I may be able to do some scooter commuting yet this year. 
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*  Bajaj, an Indian company, apparently started out building licensed Vespa copies, then drifted farther and farther off-model, the four-stroke engine being the most obvious.  A late-model Chetak has very little parts commonality with a Vespa, despite a striking resemblance.  In the home market, these served the purpose of a second car in a middle-class American household.  With increasing prosperity came consumer desire for larger vehicles; Bajaj dropped their scooter line about 2006, kept their motorcycle range, and last I knew, had added small automobiles.  At the time, Bajaj was building the only California-legal motor scooter.  Competitor Star/LML just happened to be coming off a prolonged worker's strike at the time; their scooters were much close to the Vespa original and as production resumed, they quickly added a version with a four-stroke, low-emission engine and filled the vacancy the competitor had left.

 † Shifting a classic scooter takes some getting used to: the clutch lever and twist-shifter are both on the left grip. Tapping your toes will not help!  Same pattern as a motorcycle but finding the gears is a matter of practice.

Yes, It's Swing Shifts

     And thus I am awake at what, to most people, is the middle of the night, or at least very late.  It's early from where I sit, though none too early; there's breakfast in front of me (simple "breakfast hash" of fried potatoes, bacon and an egg), a couple of pairs of jeans in the dryer, and an entire Monday ahead, stretching out for hours.  Of course, to me it's "Tuesday," since I had Monday on Sunday, and no Sunday at all.

     For two pins, I'd bundle up and ride the scooter -- at least until I remember the several pins in my knee and the difficulty of reading downtown's pockmarked road surfaces by headlight and streetlight.  It's chilly enough to keep all but the most desperate of desperadoes indoors, and that's kind of tricky to weigh, too.  Four and a door feels safer than two and none, though it is largely a notional sort of safety. Tuesday may rain but the remainder of the week is forecast to be sunny and seasonal.

Today's Post

     Posting today was much delayed by an early start occasioned by my car going into the shop, followed by what I am embarrassed to admit was my first motor scooter commute of the year.

     A slightly scary commute, too, headed to the North Campus in gusty winds: three bridges and one overpass, not including the canal, and doesn't the wind just howl at every crossing!  But I made it, with a very heavily-laden scooter: purse, briefcase, lunch box plus some parts for the too-often-ignored machinery at that site.

     An hour shy of lunchtime, the garage called.  My car was done.  Took it in for routine service plus what sounded like a hole in the exhaust system, possible brake issues and a sidelight that needs replaced (someone scraped it and broke it.  I have the new part but it's a mystery how to install it).  So, what was the verdict?  Brakes, a-okay.  Exhaust, just a little flex section that needed replaced.  Oil change, fine. Light, oh hells no, you have to pull the entire bumper cover; their advice was, "Have a body shop do it."  Cost of all that was reasonable.  But there was one more thing wrong: tires.

     The tires have been questionable for some time: deep cracks in the sidewalls.  Yeah, deep dry rot: they were dying of old age.  They also weren't very grippy, even for little-old-lady, city-driving values of "grippy."  It's an RX300, with big SUV-sized wheels, and that meant I dropped about six and a half C-notes on new shoes for baby.  Ouch. 

     Big ouch.  Beats the heck out of skidding sideways through an intersection saying bad words, or trying to change a tire by the side of the road with the delightful kit of tools found in most modern cars.  Gotta go back in Monday or Tuesday and have 'em check lug nut torque, just to be on the safe side.

     Anyway, I was happy to avoid evening rush hour on two wheels; I left most of the cargo at work, scootered home and Tam ran me to garage, where I picked up my now-quiet car and returned to work.  Wow, it's like driving a Lexus or something.

Monday Already?

     And here I was, just having fun.

     The cold or whatever mostly leaves me weak and a little short of breath.  Coughing is sporadic, though unpleasant and sneezes are rare.  Sunday it seems to have at least stabilized, so I took my scooter over to the donut place for a midmorning snack.

     The scooter didn't want to start at first.  I have let it sit idle through this scorching summer and it shows.  But I got it going.

     There's a whole new pastry place across the street from the Dancing Donut.  I buzzed by it but did not stop in, my heart already set on good old-fashioned sinkers.  Sinkers I had -- their cinnamon-sugared "plain jane," which is just about the platonic ideal of a traditional American donut.

     Riding to the place, I had realized the scooter was about out of gas.  That called for a side trip to fill up (about a gallon and a half), so I did, and made it back home with a stop for groceries on the way.

     I'd planned to ride to the drugstore and the five and dime (oh, okay -- Meijer or Target).  Putting the groceries away, that seemed unwise, so I drove instead, there being critical shortages of a number of items like cat litter and sugar.  Finished all that, took my cough syrup, made a little late lunch and ate it in front of the TV.  Dozed off twice and when I stood up, the room spun.

     The cough syrup, of course.  Cleared away the dishes, fiddled around online for awhile, then went to bed.  Along about 0230, the cough syrup wore off and I was Wide. Awake.  And coughing.  Got over both eventually, slept until alarm time, and now here I am.  Perhaps I won't be going much of anywhere today.

Gone A Bit Blank

     Sorry.  Thinking through some heavy stuff.

     I ought to go ride my motorscooter, is what.

Yes, Late Again

     It's a beautiful day -- sunny skies, sixty-oh-my-Heavens-degrees outside.  The wind has mostly died down and by golly, I got my motor scooter started up without too much drama.

     But I'm not riding.  Didn't go to the range, either, and I'm overdue.  About 1630 Friday, the tech who normally works 0500 - 1300 on Saturday called in sick.  There were three of us who could fill in; one was off, thanks to the rotating-overtime we all work that results in an occasional three-day weekend (preceded by a 1-day weekend, so it's no prize).  The next had an appointment.  And the third?  The third was me.

     So I cut out early, and was promised I'd only need to work until 1000.  That'd get me home in time for nice, fresh donuts and a cuppa joe, and leave a little extra to run to the range, possibly on my scooter, even after I went to the supermarket and did a load of laundry.  Yay, me, all that and OT pay, too!

     Yeah, no.  Along about 1001, I'm slouching off towards Babylon with my briefcase and lunchbox, fixin' to ride the rough beast* northward, when the center came unpinned and the falcon† spun out, deaf: a couple of Production people asked me just when I thought I would have the spare set of monitors set up, because they needed to check the lighting and such on the backup stretch of green wall.

     This was all news to me and I admitted as much, which confused them.  Did I not know the main greenscreen wall was being sanded, spackled and painted?  (This in a room with I don't know, nearly a million dollars of sensitive optics and electronics.  "Not my circus. Not my monkeys.") Nope.  I started in on that project, which took right around 2 and a half hours of high-speed motion, fixed it up and arrived home punchy and frazzled.

     But consolation, the donut place is usually open 'til 1400, so I was good, right?  Yum, tasty-- CLOSED.  Sorry, We Sold Out Early.

     Sheesh.  I did laundry while watching TV,‡ then at least started my motorscooter, warmed it up, sat in the saddle and thought happy thoughts.

     Tomorrow is predicted to be as much as twenty degrees colder.
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* This is all a series of skewed poetical references, not random tired Jabberwocky.  Well, it's that, too.

† Actually, it's an an older RX300.  Alas, metaphor!  Oops, here come Yeats and he does not look best pleased.

‡ HBO's True Detective, Season One.  This is very much not family fare but it's utterly brilliant TV -- H. P. Lovecraft and Dashiell Hammet, as filmed by the producer and crew of Homicide: Life On The Street and directed by Stanley Kubrick.  Seriously, it's that good.  But you'll need a thick skin.

Dawn

     You'd think anything this spectacular would make a sound--

     It crept up quiet as ever.

     Some things do make a sound: I got my motorscooter running day before yesterday; once I filled up the gas, it started almost immediately, which is very pleasant considering it'd been stored since late last Fall.  I always add the storage treatment to the the gas at the end of the year but the tank was almost empty.  I was worried there was going to be a great deal to do.  I still have to clean the air filter and change the oil.  It's starting to be time to think about new tires, too.  And I'm going to have to scrub down the cargo racks with something very mild and then wax them: the Indian chrome-plating has thin spots and the thin spots are just beginning to show a haze of red.

     But, once started and running smoothly, the first thing to do was take a few loops around the block and then and a nice long check ride yesterday.  I burbled up back street to to the Indianapolis Art Center (where the Indiana Writer's Center hangs their mills) and return...

     ...With a stop at the incomparable Rene's Bakery along the way!

Rene's always reminds me of the galley on a submarine.  There's a whole lot of bakery in a very small space -- and room for four customers, if three of them are family or very close friends.

     What's in the case?  Deliciousness!

 

      I brought back an almond croissant and some banana-walnut bread.  I bought a chocolate brownie, too, but I devoured it while reading at the Art Center's park.

Motorcycle Thing?

     Along College, along about 49th Street, there's a corner of shops.  This is unremarkable in and of itself; College Avenue was a main route of the city and suburb streetcar/interurban route, and has retained much of its streetcar-neighborhood flavor, with small business building on the corners, every third or fourth intersection from at least 16th Street all the way up to 62nd/Broard Ripple Avenue.

     Sunday afternoon, I saw this:

Weird angle: I made the phone a camera on a red stoplight, then shot without looking when the light changed.

     49th and College has been making progress but struggling a bit. The Northwest corner was last occupied by an excellent barbecue joint; when it moved out, nothing but graffiti and broken windows moved in and stayed for nearly ten years.  Across the street, a large liquor store, plumber and dry cleaner's did okay.  The remaining corners held a veterinarian and another cleaner on one side and a former KFC, occupied by a series of short-lived eateries, on the other.

     The plumbing company, on its third generation, went out of business (Steck's, and I still miss them -- the same family own and still runs Winthrop Supply, selling plumbing parts with an eye to the needs of the neighborhood, nearly all pre-1950 homes).  A Little Caesar's has moved into the defunct KFC and shows signs of staying.  Agrarian, an urban-farm supply shop (are chickens the new widescreen TV?  Yes, they kind of are) and brewpub tasting room  for Upland Brewing Co. filled up the vet's building, and the vacant, paint-tagged building was finally pushed over, to become a gravelled lot.  The vet, in need of larger quarters, moved out.

     Between the liquor store and former plumber, a line of small shops held a varied array of enterprises; the brilliant, quirky restaurant Recess showed up in 2010 and has been a real asset.  The plumber's became The Sinking Ship,* a large pub with, 'tis said, an excellent menu.  Between the two, various shops came and went, clothing stores and the like, including Lava Lips, which sold a huge variety of hot sauces but found there wasn't enough walk-in business to keep the doors open; word is they hope to come back as an online store.

     The last time I had a good look at the former Lava Lips and the adjoining storefront, there was a sign saying something about "motorcycling accessories" and "coming soon."  Looks like they may be open!
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* Where liquor law and good intentions create paradox!

The law ain't always an ass, but you can see one showing from there.