Zest from Pole 8
My address on the electrical grid of the United States is Pole 8 in my town. This gives me pause. I have always thought of myself in terms of different numbers. Starting from childhood my street numbers have been (get your Keno cards ready): 825, 3219, 5600, 7714, 1016, [I forget one in Pennsylvania], 22, and 48. I can recite my old phone numbers too--anybody want to hear them? Yeah, yeah, okay, you're not supposed to have blunt objects in here, so put them down, okay? Anyway, now I can add plain old 8 to my collection. [choral music up] As some might say, BFD.
Don't think Pole 8 has it easy. It's chewed by squirrels and riddled with all those shredded Dixie cups that connect my internet dial
I don't know how much stress little Chadwick puts on the electrical system, but he's a go-getter. Pole 8 knows he's there, serving goold old 48 with honor and dedication.
GO CHAD!!!
In other news, I'm back in the swing of daily walks around the track. One of the fun parts is witnessing the practices of the various high school teams as I go by. One is the boys' baseball group and they look so winsome in their uniforms.
I love to hear the coach telling them what to do. Murray! That's your ball! Stay in the basepath, Iggy! The other day I watched them doing a drill where they practice diving back to first if the pitcher tries to throw them out. In professional games, those runners take a huge lead.
There were four of these high school boys and as I rounded the 440 mark on the track above them, I watched them jump back, leap back, scrounge back to first in time to beat the throw.
Very cool.
Only a few bloops so far and one includes a persuasive bit of homespun logic. On the subject of legalization of marijuana:
"The affects of the drug are sleepy, hungry, and happy. Now what is wrong with that?"
Not sure I have an answer, dear reader.
I will be buried in papers for a few days, but Pole 8 is tingling with an end-of-semester surge.
A bientot
love,
becky
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