Pale Thunder Rolls On

Pale Thunder is no longer mine to ride. Last night I passed the reigns to another, may he brush her rusty coat and tend her soggy insides well and often. Alas, my days of panicking women and children into a desperate dash for the sidewalk are over. Days when the world reckoned with my coming. Now, I have a huge plastic ass to wrestle into the driveway, an engine that sounds like an old man's dying whisper, and a window sticker that says "Support Our Sheriffs." Jenine just needs to pop out a handful of kids and then we can move to New Jersey and end it.

Work is going well, and although i'd have to shoot you if I told you what I did all day, I can tell you that I spent hours last week modeling and texturing an old lady's sunken chest. Yowza!

Yesterday I went for a nice 2-hour power walk to the Arboretum and on to Wing's Kitchen for some tasty teriyaki chicken. ("Wing, you magnificant bastard, you've done it again!") I made it to some as of then unexplored Arboretum territory, where I danced between conifers and birch in the brisk 25 degree afternoon air. Today the storm hit (a blizzard in some areas) and I am enjoying the view of the swirling snow from my perch among the rooftops.