Andare, Partire, Tornare

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this journal has been declared a war-free zone. For now, anyway.

Washington DC is one fucked up city. We've just gotten word that some streets near us are closed off because a guy drove a tractor towing a jeep into the pond nearby. It's a really shallow pond (used to go ice skating there as a kid) and so the jeep is just sitting there, half-submerged, while the driver sits in the cab. He's wearing a white helmet with a red cross on it and is playing military marching cadences, and there are statements of support for veterans all over the tractor. Mind you, this is all reportage, so some details may not be true. Check your local news if you really and truly care that a man is sitting in a pond playing marching songs. And really, all I know is that this is going to fuck up my commute big time.

Spent the day doing more research on my ciggie premiums (and tracked down some dates on various items that I intend to use), plus helped the director chase down what looks to be a serious copyright violation of one of our objects. Smithers, release the hounds!

I consider it my responsibility to give you guys a respite from all the war talk. So don't expect any deeply reasoned, passionate statements either pro- or anti- from me. I simply don't know enough to make an informed decision.

So, bearing that in mind, I want to tout my newest obsession, Trader Joe's, and let everybody know that their veggie and barley soup kicks ass and takes names. It has asparagus in it. Wicked cool. And as a confirmed carnivore, you know it has to be tasty for me to endorse it. The Trader Joe's cashier challenged me to name an Irish drinking song (this was day before yesterday) in honor of St. Pats. I could only come up with The Wild Rover, and Bemo came up with the one that has the refrain "we drink and we fight and we fight and we drink...etc." The cashier grinned and sang a few verses of The Wild Rover to put us in the St. Paddy's Day spirit. Nice of him, I say. He also tried to recruit me for the local SCA war archer's branch, which I may take him up on. Apparently his dad is Somebody in Stierbach, and he knew Lady Karen (Hi, Karen! Aren't you tired of me talking about getting back into the SCA and never actually doing it?) and wants me to get my ass to archery practice so I can learn how to handle a bow. I will not promise a thing, but I will investigate it. Since I want to get back into aikido, I may have to make a choice. Perhaps I could do both.

Must go see if my commute will be do-able. Happy drinking, y'all.

3:11 p.m. - 2003-03-17

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