So it goes...

Diesel Kingdom Aisle sitters demand their space An orphan seat calls me Standers are losers This is my house King of the bus Ruler of none But King nonetheless Smokers, drinkers, loners, crazies All fall within the borders Of glass and steel Subject to its shuddering confines They eavesdrop On neighbors wayward drivel Wishing they’d shut-up People incapable of quiet Fondle Alexander’s electronic Bell Workers gaze looks of dread Out rain spit windows A serf up front asks for change I’d like some change, alright The King of change The bus stops here

Got out from writing class a bit early and was feeling inspired. I'm still struggling with the difference between being a "writer" and just someone who likes to write. Is it that it must be a profession to qualify as a writer? Being published? I think those two would certainly qualify, but I don't think you can discount the lover of writ. I'm not sure why it's bugging me, but I'm sure I'll work through it. I need a laptop. Or even a second PC. Something with a keyboard that is off limits to anyone under 18 in this house. Is that so wrong? I am at mile 830 on my 1000 mi. bike quest. It's beginning to lose it's allure and has become a bit more like grunt work. I'll finish it, to be sure, but it will be more of a relief than I would have guessed. Part of it may be that I ride the same trail every day which is my fault, no doubt. It's just close, easy to get to and off limits to cars, so seems like the best way to get to 1000. I've alr...

It was kind of a random Saturday, a term that my kids use to excess. So random goes the post. Walking the dog tonight was serenely comforting. It was (is) a completely still evening, where the humidity is present like a stifled, restless 4 year old, but not so much in your face as a boorish sports fan with too many overpriced beers under his belt. Kind of just there, reminding you it's August, not July; too dark, too early; and not September crisp and lacking humidity altogether. Having lived five years longer than my dad, I realize the need to appreciate every day, and sometimes, when moved, every minute. It's hot, but you know what? Hot beats not here, so bring it on. "Subdivisions", by Rush, was on the Ipod . A song that speaks of the crud that goes along with cloistering ourselves in the suburbs. Walking through the city that is truly a city, though is looked upon by most as a suburb of Milwaukee. One native said once, " Waukesha was here first and Milwaukee...

Our recent trip to the Shoreview MN and on to the North Shore of Lake Superior was quite a whirlwind tour, some of which I'll touch on here. The week started with the long drive to MN. We stopped for lunch at the Norske Nook in Osseo , WI . http://www.norskenook.com/ Being a Friday , Donna and I opted for the fish fry and all four of us had pie for dessert. The blueberry crumble was fabulous! I headed out to my 30 th High School Reunion on Friday night. What a trip back in time for me. I hadn't darkened the doors of my old school since '79 when I walked out them. It was weird walking through the doors again. It was great to see my old friends Pat, Pete and John, who I hung with most of the night. We all agreed that if one or the other of us wouldn't have made it, the others wouldn't have. One of my ex-classmates had a few too many MGD's and managed to make a fool of himself. If there's one mistake you shouldn't make, that's right up there. Peopl...

Our vacation to the Northern reaches of Minnesota was awesome. Much to tell. Still recovering and unpacking mental baggage. Will post soon, I promise. So tired... Blogging off.

In lieu of a decent posting, I offer this not so decent attempt at poetry. It was inspired while I had the house to myself when Donna and the kids were in New York. Four Walled Box They’re gone now All three, gone Silence echoes Stillness permeates Solitude stains Loneliness sets in like cancer Small at first, a lump The memory of misplaced socks, appointments, laughter Then ravaging, it eats away. The touch The voices The emotions Electronic chemo fails So alone in this Four Walled Box One miracle cure They return

I went shopping for our upcoming BWCA canoe/fishing trip today. It was a bit of an eye- opening experience, to say the least. What camping is really, is trying to recreate your home in the wilderness. Therefore, you have to buy many things in an effort to simulate your house and lifestyle. The unfortunate thing is that trying to recreate your life at 1/2 the weight and size, it seems, takes a lot of money. I wonder how the homeless can afford it? I looked at Therma -Rest self inflating sleeping pads thinking they'd run about 17 bucks. Yeah, right. Try four times that. Those things run about $80 for my size. Now, if I sleep crappy on a regular air mattress camping, is spending $80 to sleep crappy going to solve anything? No. I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's not to say I won't be renting one (I will), because hey, I'm not 27 anymore. Life jackets are another story. Ring three of them up at $90. Ca- Ching ! Gotta have them though. Throw in a sleeping bag for ...