Springing Forward Forward

Call Me Mister Tigger

Many years ago, before congress chose to ignore almost every important issue and instead exercised its power to screw with Daylight Saving Time. My wife bought me an Oregon Scientific clock that removed the burden of the user having to change the clock twice a year (and performed its real intent, my twice yearly rantings on the topic of time change).

What the clockmaker did not count on, nor provide contingency for was the unending idiocy of our elected officials manifest in changing the weeks that we spring forward and fall back. Even more at the core of why I write this at 6:00 am on a Sunday is the fact that we Americans are lazy and gadget hungry and too often are at the mercy of the devices meant to make our lives easy. I have railed against all this in previous blentries but I can't seem to find where. Oh well, if you read it once, you don't need to read it again and if you didn't read it then, you probably don't care to now.

My clock sprung forward last night, even though the rest of us sprung forward weeks ago. So, waking my groggy wife and my groggy cat in an unusually dark and cold room this morning, I did not posses the presence of mind to put the pieces together so that I might see the whole picture. It was 5:55 am, not 6:55 am.

I now have a clock, designed by a company that uses a form of the word 'science' in its title that doesn't actually work, strictly speaking, since 4 times per year it is unable to provide the service for which it was originally designed, requiring either my direct intervention or, failing that, causing some sort of exaggerated timeliness or tardiness.

The picture is, simply, I get an extra hour of time to do... something... with this morning. I think drinking coffee and bitching about it is a good use of time. Yep. Indeed.
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Old Timey Pursuits

It was too pretty last night not to take a drive in the Corvette. It was cold, yes, but pretty. The weather in these parts right now is nearly indiscernible from late fall. There are a few less leaves on the trees and the telltale road debris that is a signature remnant of winter's snow is prominent. However, those clues aside, a person would be hard pressed to say whether it is March or November. And here we are in April. Spring is going to be short this year.

I went through a car wash for the first time I think since I have known the car, which is 22 years this week. It was very, very dirty and it is just too cold to wash it in my driveway. With an old car, even a mere carwash qualifies as an adventure. You can play "where will the leak come from" or my favorite game, "name that part" - in which you have to correctly identify the formerly attached part as it is hurling by you in the vortex of air, water and various scrubbing apperati (apperatusses?). Both games are fun and usually give way to my favorite "will we get out of this alive?" the game where you literally face death in the form of those heated air dryers that seem to go on forever at the end.

After the near death carwash, we took her out to the back roads away from the city. I was comfortable with this since everything seemed to be in good working order. We had a fine drive down 92nd street and its roller coaster like hills. We took a turn back to town and I decided to make a trip through the old neighborhood.

Like an anthropologist, I take a trip through the old 'hood to measure and note its slow rate of decline. I was pleased to say that it looked better that it has in recent visits. Maybe things are looking up. We then took a quick diversion past Chandra and Jason's. One car was there but we didn't stop. Dropping by unannounced is an old timey pursuit. It just doesn't happen any more.

As we were turning for home, we spotted Jason heading back home. He spotted us and we waved. I decided to pursue him and we pulled into his drive mere moments after he did. And we visited for an hour and left.

Back when I was growing up, it was not unheard of (indeed, it was fairly frequent) for my parents' friends to drop by while out on a walk, or just pop in in general. I always thought it nice. Neighborly. Friendly. I hope we were not an imposition on our friends. We were just trying to be... friendly.
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Spring Fresh

Despite spring's late arrival, it was spring cleaning day in the Uebbing household, yesterday. After breakfast and coffee at West Coast Coffee, (owner and proprietor Doug is my friend from back in the day), we set to work, denuding the dark corners of the house. We moved the furniture, vacuumed the curtains, got all the little nooks free of crannies and generally worked our assess off.

The thing about spring cleaning is that you work hard for little apparent payoff. Had any of our friends decided to pop by they would have not noticed that the space underneath the couch upon which they were perched was sanitary enough to eat from, or that the wall behind our head board in our bedroom was now free of the accumulated cat hair and other various dust or that the area behind and beneath the refrigerator, and indeed the workings of refrigerator itself were both as clean as a whistle.

In the end, it must be done. And there are worse ways of spending an otherwise idle day than putting on some music (in this case a Bob Seger marathon) and bee-boppin' your way through the house with a rag in your hand.
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S*it Warmed Over

I admit, Em... I wanted seconds. Nice job considering what you had to work with!