I LOVE my Monday night class. I gave them an in-class free-writing exercise and I was BLOWN AWAY by the creativity. What are these kids doing in a functional writing class like PR? They all should be Creative Writing majors. Oh, I'll have my work cut out for me, beating the creativity out . . .
The parking lot arm was up, as it is every first day of a new semester. I parked in the lot near the Cass Annex, where the Communications Department is domiciled these days. The hot Tampa sun beat down as I walked to the office. Quite different from my first day of school at Syracuse . . .
We returned from North Carolina last night, hitting a few leftover Fay squalls, one so bad we had to pull over for 10 minutes or so. It took us about 12 hours to get back, between stopping at 5:45am to put our garbage in the dumpster (no garbage outside in bear country), then regular stops to walk . . .
This was in the ladies room at the Bingo Hall. First time I've ever seen a sharps disposal unit in a public rest room. Note the used syringes inside. Aren't cell phone cameras wonderful? . . .
I’ve never thought of Bingo as gambling, but I can see that it’s addictive. That's Helen, poised to become addicted.We decided to go early, since the Cherokee reservation is around some gnarly curves on an unlit mountain road. “Early Bird”, they call the games from 5:30pm til regular session at 7pm, . . .
Oh, it was ugly. We're lucky that we still have enough money to get back to Tampa. And what's worse: the snack bar was out of pemmican. More later. . . .
Downtown Asheville still looks very much like this. Except for the upscale bistros and such. . . .
Yeah, yeah, he's cute. But he wasn't so cute this morning when we left for Black Mtn. He was hurling himself against the bedroom door, full-force, to protest being left behind.Earlier he'd scampered down the stairs to greet Auntie Helen. But he was in too much of a hurry and sort of tumbled the last . . .
Looking out my bedroom window this afternoon, I saw this. A land beaver. A groundhug. A woodchuck. He was big, too. Bigger than Riley. Way bigger. I saw the same thing on the side of the freeway this morning, chowing down. No fear. We'd determined how to best describe it and hoped to find a . . .
This morning we headed out to Black Mountain. But I forgot to shut the window in the dogs' room. "The spare house key is in the glove box," Helen said. I opened the box and picked up a black net bag and asked "In here?" Just then, her black 36 pistol dropped to the car . . .