![]() Nancy had a real baby – Diego, who was 16 months old and quite a busy little guy. The slides were of an afternoon spent in Monterey with Mommy Nancy, I, and our babies. ![]() I don’t know precisely how they got there, but I found several color slides – archaic artifacts of the past. I got some things started though, like pulling some things, like my shoes out of the ‘junk room’ and into my bedroom closet. It’s the last day of my 3 day weekend and as usual, I got very little done of what I wanted to do. Honestly, for a rainy night, I sure enjoyed myself. I had that same sort of feeling I used to get when I was a kid and my Mother showed up for the bake sale. Big surprise, Mommy Nancy showed up! I was thrilled to see her. What was I thinking? It being a Saturday night - even if it was raining - he was off on adventures.īut us old folk sat around after the drumming and enjoyed a nice chat. I was so excited about getting to beat the drum - to call passersby - I called up the Codina's, got Rick, me thinking perhaps Diego might enjoy coming down with his flute, get a little ensemble going. ![]() He let us have a go at beating the drum - way cool. I was too excited to think to ask him the significance of the songs. We stood at the K street door of the museum and Larry sung some songs in what may have been Miwok or Wintun. I wish I had a photo of it - it was almost four feet in diameter, octogonal in shape and was stretched with cowhide on one side and elk skin on the other. One of the artists, Larry, brought a beautiful & humongous hand made drum with him. Those of us hosting the gig Ranger Henry, docent Karen and two artists who had art for sale, outnumbered the visitors. The State Indian Museum held a Second Saturday event - Hurrah! Will get windshield replaced in January, after which I will never, ever allow a truck within a half mile of my wee ikle Honda. My beautiful, Mohave Mist copper brown Honda CRV now looks like a decrepit old SUV. I was so upset, I left the car for an errand, and when I returned 45 minutes later, the crack had transverse another foot, ending in a downward curve under the windshield wiper on the passenger side. Then, I chanced to look down again and GASP! The crack had grown, another 8 or 9 inches! A frost demon had possessed my car and before my very eyes was having a go at cracking my poor windshield! ![]() Why are trucks allowed to cruise freeways spewing boulders that crack the windshields of sweet innocents such as trucks! I hadn’t done anything to deserve that damned windshield hole in the first place, but here it was ruining my car's perfection. The chalk line was actually an enlongated crack, which on this frigid winter evening was traveling from its source the bullet hole in my windshield. I noticed something weird – someone had drawn a foot-long, white chalk line across the bottom of my windshield. I don’t care that they carry the merchandise and thus are essential for me to live my life in a manner that I am accustomed to that being a princess in exile. Arrogant bastards! Ought not be allowed on freeways. When I parked I stared in horrified fascination at a round, pierced hole, located on the driver’s side, only an inch or two above the trucks!Īlways hated trucks Tyrannosaurus-sized behemoths, driven by rude bastards that ignoring the fact that I own the freeways, believe that they own the freeways. A pebble, bullet, an armed WMD hit my windshield. Shortly before I exited the freeway I heard a loud CRACK. My car is possessed - possessed I tell you!Ī few weeks ago, on a dark winter’s morn, I drove to work on Highway 50, behind a humongous truck.
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