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Tuesday, August 23, 2005

This is probably the earliest in the week that Friday has ever come. Iím not talking about the good Friday (or Good Friday, for that matter, amen). The good Friday is the one that is the last work day, or at least the last day I have to answer my phone with the name of the company instead of a cheery hello. Today, Tuesday though it might be on the calendar, was a bad Friday. A really early bad Friday.

On a bad Friday, all the accumulated late nights and early mornings of the week come together to make the perfect storm. I donít know when this bludgeon of fatigue has struck me so early in the week, but thatís what I had to deal with today, through payables and payroll and more of the Bossís infernal lists. Thereís no time for naps on Tuesday, so all I can do is keep going at the pace of a three-legged turtle on muscle relaxants.

Obviously it was a bad day to do any power walking. So obviously I ignored the signals my body was sending and set off for the post office, shuffling down the street like the oldster I am. Then I looked up and saw little pods of teenagers walking on the same sidewalk and heading straight for me. The first thing I did was pick up my step (and then move aside so they wouldnít run me down).

Now, Iím not afraid of teenagers, especially seventh graders (although seventh graders are a lot bigger and scarier than they used to be). I actually like them and donít mind being around them at all. But I purposely try to finish my daily errands before noon, especially during the school year, so I can walk up and down the sidewalk and have it pretty much to myself.

Today was seventh grade orientation at the middle school which is unfortunately located across the street from the post office. If Iíd known that, I probably would have driven up to the post office door, picked up my mail, and headed straight home. Apparently the children were being released at just about the time I shuffled into their neighborhood, and they were everywhere, in little clumps. And they were all expressing their individuality by dressing exactly alike, in black shirts and black jeans.

9 August 2005

Cloud art.

Anyway, if it hadnít been such a bad Friday, I wouldnít have minded sharing the sidewalk (except for the part where one little pod of black-clad teens squeezed me onto the grass). But I had to exert some energy that I wasnít feeling, and that wore me out even more. I need a Wednesday tomorrow, just to keep bad Fridays from piling on top of each other.

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After he took out Noah Lowry one out short of a shutout last night, why did Felipe Alou let Brett Tomko get shelled in the third inning tonight and not even warm anybody up? Not that it mattered much, as the Giants could muster only three hits and the Phillies kept scoring throughout the game, but I just wonder what goes through the managerís mind sometimes. In the end, the 10-2 loss to the Phillies kept the Giants from building any momentum on the stirring performance by Lowry last night.

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"There are only two things that I'm sure of, and one of them is that there's nothing you can see that won't look different from another's perspective."

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