Why won’t my LJ client upload my entry?! Gah. Must resort to posting from the LJ website.
Anyway, just so y’all know…
– my LJ is now integrated into the.details
– my gardening section is now up
– the photos from the U-Haul moving debacle aftermath are posted
And here’s a little something for Sheryl.
Yesterday’s LakeShoremen Brass rehearsal wasn’t all that bad. I drove an hour and a half up to Clawson and met my ride, Barb and Russ, and then rode with them the 40 minutes up to Holly from their house. We ended up arriving 15 minutes late—and not because of me, either, thank goodness. Rehearsal lasted about three hours total (two hours playing, one hour bullshitting). Paul, incidentally, didn’t show up and didn’t tell anyone for sure that he wouldn’t be there. He told one person that he might not make it if he couldn’t find a sitter for the kids, but that’s not the same.
Next Sunday’s full-corps rehearsal is up in Montrose… another half hour farther north than this Sunday’s. I’m leaving my place at 9:15am to be at the Braman household by 11:00am, and to Montrose by 1:00pm. Is this really worth it for a four-hour rehearsal?
I guess we’ll know for sure when our first parade happens on May 16th…
My fingers aren’t too keen on typing right now—I just got back in from doing a little over an hour of yardwork. Forgot to take a picture of what it looked like beforehand, but I’ve got almost all of the out-of-control forsythia bushes hacked down. Don’t worry, I took cuttings, so they’ll be back… only much more controlled next time.
This afternoon, Fries helped Aaron pick up our free washer and dryer from Aaron’s buddy Joe from work. I guess he had some issues getting the washer hooked up—the hose connector squirts everywhere, which is ungood. We need to hit Lowe’s tomorrow and get some new hoses or hose fittings or something.
Actually, we have a whole crapload of stuff that needs to be done around the house, especially outside. Doesn’t it just figure that this is when the drumcorps season starts to kick in with extra weekend rehearsals and parades and such? That pretty much wipes out about every other Sunday from now until early September, with a few exceptions. To make it worse, the initial joy of being in a drumcorps again has been overshadowed by the insanely long distance I have to drive to get to rehearsals now. But I can’t back out: 1.) because I know I’d regret it later, and 2.) because I committed to stick out at least this season and probably another one or two on top of that. Oh, yeah, and 3.) because I’m the only damn mellophone. Four or five trumpets, four baritones, a tuba, and one lowly mellophone. Poor Diana. No pressure, none at all. *crosses eyes* Oh, yeah, and did I mention I can’t get excited about practicing at all?
That reminds me: I need to e-mail my potential car-pool hookup from Clawson to Holly. I’m not planning to ride with Paul again. The caravan thing didn’t really appeal to me. Nope. Kind of defeated the purpose. So, not again.
Hey! It’s my birthday. How ’bout that. I actually forgot until I got to work and saw two birthday cards on my desk.
Don’t feel any older. Still in my late 20’s. Got my presents last weekend. No cake on Atkins. Um… yeah.
I’m going to bed now.
OMG. You will never believe what I just saw out my window.
I was sitting here at my computer, contemplating going to bed, when I heard a car pull up the road. (One of the benefits of living on a dead end: all traffic is either lost or coming to your house.) It didn’t sound like any car I knew—the muffler was pretty noisy, so it wasn’t Aaron. Then I heard it pull up the driveway and turn around… but it didn’t go away. The rumbling chug was still outside. I started to get a little freaked out, so I headed up to the front door to look out the peephole. All I could see was that a car was parked with its lights on, somewhere behind the giant pine tree (which is to say, by our house somewhere) and it had gotten close enough to trip our motion-sensor floodlight. I decided I needed a better vantage point.
I went upstairs again to the small bedroom and looked out the open blinds. I figured I was relatively safe, standing in near-total darkness inside. From there I could tell that there was a bluish station wagon parked on the opposite side of the road, and as I watched, the driver turned off the headlights. It looked like two people in the car, or a person and a dog—I couldn’t tell which. Then I remembered that the crate of camera equipment was in the room with me, including Aaron’s binoculars. I foraged for those, and looked out ever so carefully, so as not to be spotted.
The driver was a black man, a young adult, and his seat was in the reclined position. His head turned toward me, and I freaked for a second as I thought he’d spotted me, but he turned away again. As I was trying to ascribe honest motives to him (maybe he just needs a place to grab some sleep?), I saw motion in the car. It became a particularly rhythmic motion. And you’ve probably guessed it by now: it was someone giving him a blow job.
I felt kind of bad for the guy on one hand, because I’ve been there: trying to find a place, anyplace, to go and get it on. To make matters worse for this fella, though, the wind kept triggering the motion-sensor on the floodlights by the garage, so it kept interrupting them. I wonder if it was good for him, anyway; I heard his car rumble away as I was writing this entry.
I’m glad it was just someone getting nookie, though, and not someone casing the joint. I was seriously freaked out for a few minutes there.