Pulled Over

 Dorothy, Dave and I went to dinner at the Eagle Bridge Inn one night. I may have ordered a drink and could even have drunk it, though sometimes I just ordered to be sociable. My dinner partners had several, I'm sure. When we left the place, they decided to dance along the top of the rail fence outside the restaurant, with only some success.  I think they were singing also. I got behind the wheel of my car with Dave alongside me and Dorothy in the back seat. 

No sooner had we pulled onto the highway when we were stopped by the siren of a police car. (I suspect they must have been "observing" the late night activity of those revelers leaving the place of business.) I knew I wasn't in any violation, but the officer approached, asked for my license and said that he had noticed I appeared to be weaving. I was sure I had not been, but I guess they have to give some reason for stopping a vehicle.

   Dave, a seasoned veteran of being pulled over, knew from experience that silence is golden in his circumstance. But my helpful sister in the back seat, still feeling pretty good and now quite amused at my being pulled over, offered this explanation to the officer, "Oh, she always drives like this, weaves a lot."  

 There was no follow-up and we were sent on our way. (I had not tried to balance on the fence.

 

Bicycles

 I have not ridden a bike in a very long time, except for last night in a dream. Of course I was young, or youngish. Even a dream state knows better than to choose old age.

    A man was there, dark haired and it seems he spoke with some type of accent. He persuaded me to go with him to rent bikes, electric bikes as it turned out. I was unsure of how to acess the rental unit. The building was very large, with numerous divisions. The construction was of wood, walls and floors. People were going about their business there, but I didn't know how to proceed, though I wanted to get a bike. The dark-haired man showed up with 2 bikes, so I took mine and decided to ride it through the building to the exit. I felt a little guilty doing so because there were people around and it was inside the building, but it reminded me of a boardwalk so  I thought it was okay. 

 I rode outside and near a lake or some body of water. I was by myself; the man was nowhere in sight. I stopped at some shop and the man was there, with no bike though.  He said he was trying to save his money, not to spend any more than necessary. I kind of laughed and said you'd never know you were trying to save after just spending about $141 or so  on renting  a bike. Then it occurred to me that he may have paid for my bike rental. I knew I hadn't paid, but would find out if it had been paid for when I returned the bike. I wasn't sure, though, about how to get back to the bike rental building. I'm still trying to figure that out.

+Piano Lesson(s)

 Dave took piano lessons as a child, as far as I know the only one in his family who played piano. It's possible his mother may have played because there was a piano in the basement of the Wrentham Street house in Kingston. Or maybe they bought the piano when young Dave showed promise as a player. He was certainly not an accomplished player, but he enjoyed it well enough for him to have bought a second-hand piano during our early marriage years. And he'd sing and play from time to time, when we had house parties or when he was alone with just family, as I recall a largely unappreciative audience. 

  When the family ties to Kingston were ended, the house on Wrentham Street was sold. Dave's father, an accomplished builder as well as mehanic, had added on to the house they had purchased some years before, constructing  a large master bedroom and bath on the ground floor at the back of the house. As it happened this addition prohibited entry on any large scale to the basement home of the piano. The piano was not removable with the new construction. 

The new owners did not want the piano and wanted it removed from the basement. There was no way for the piano to exit intact. It fell upon Dave to deconstuct the piano, which he did with an ax. I asked him how he felt  chopping it up.  He said he felt a kind of revenge for all the times he had to practice on it while the other kids were outside playing.

   

Night Time

 So long ago, at night,I would read in bed, with the radio on and the bedroom window uncurtained so I could see the break of morning daylight. That all changed: he liked the night to be as dark and quiet as possible, no lamplight, no radio playing, and blinds closed tight to stave off the morning light. I adjusted  to the change. Life happens that way.

   Now the choice is mine. There is no longer a radio in the bedroom nor is there a lamp. The television there is not turned on at night, and the ceiling light fixture is turned off at bedtime.The blinds are still drawn, not to keep out the arrival of morning, but for security reasons, the thought of an unwanted figure peering  through the darkness.

 Darkness and silence, when life is put on hold, for a night at a time or forever.

Standstill

 All the same day: No pics, no bank, no sound.

(1) And most critical to my would-be ongoing efforts to downsize by using the same process since the beginnning of time (so to speak) , my attempt to post pictures has met with failure.  A sudden and inexplicable rejection and obscure page appears in its stead. I am unable to load pictures.   Issue unresolved.

(2) Sudden denial  of access to usual login was rejected. Calls to central banking system were not helpful, nor was visit to local branch. Last resort was another call requesting what we hope is the necessary piece of information be sent to me by U.S. Mail. Time will tell as to the resolution.

(3) Rather humorous in retrospect. Since the last Spectrum service call, I noticed I need to have the Volume setting at about 50. I checked with a youngun' who could hear at 23.  I wondered why the first volume settings, up to about 20, are silent, and  figured  it may be adjustable through call to Customer Service. Settings were adjusted through reboot. BUT, then I find I have no Audio at all. Another call took me (us) through a lengthy , involved process. It turns out there is  a mutually devised process synchronizing the volume control on the tv remote with the volume control on the Spectrum remote. It was complicated for both the rep and me, but thankfully resulted in success. I can hear!  (That's if I set the volume at about 47. But I'm calling that a win. 

Now what?

 It's 4:00 A.M. and I've done wordle, Spelling Bee and Connections. What's left?

Choosing my Battles

 I pretty much keep my thoughts to myself when it comes to public pronouncements. Case in point:  I did comment on the puppy-nourishing goose, indicating that while viewers may enjoy looking at the picture, the caption appeared to be fiction. That resulted in scores of negative comments, including personal insults. I conclude they proved my point. 

  I could publish another personal opinion, but I don't think I could weather the storm. So I'll only confide in you, O Blog. 

     I do not think it is a good thing to post pictures of veterans on telephone poles. All veterans are now designated as Hometown Heroes, which of course is in itself not a true statement. Some were reluctantly drafted and did their duty, and are deserving of respect and benefits for their service, but calling them heroes is stretching the definition of the word. But I'll concede that point. But who in heck ever came up with putting their pictures and information on telephone poles, of all places. I believe years ago pictures of WANTED  offenders were placed on telephone poles. But that was discontinued in favor of other more efficient messaging. 

   Why a telephone pole picture to honor a veteran is beyond any reasonable thought. There are countles other venues to do so. Post the pictures in honor of veterans in community halls, cemeteries,  parks, libraries, and any other public places where such would be allowed, and even on the homes and lawns of their families and loved ones who want to honor them. 

But on telephone poles, along roadways and highways. Why? What did their service have to do with people driving from place to place. Do  we want to encourage drivers to be reading signs while driving. Most of the words printed on these signs are not readily visible and should drivers be reading information which has nothing to do with driving? "Sorry, Officer, I didn't see that car, I was trying to read that sign." Has not legislation restricted advertisement signage and billboards in proximity to roadways as being potentially distracting and therefore unsafe.

   I understand families of veterans pay a fee to have the signs nailed to telephone poles. I can see that already some of the signs are faded and have been damaged by the weather, so it seems regular maintenance will be necessary. 

  Yes, honor our country's Veterans in all the traditional ways and through the more modern methods of transmitting our repect. But  posting their pictures  on  telephone poles does not seem either respectful to them, nor does it encourage respect by those driving by---just more irrelevancies to be ignored and forgotten.