Siber-Den
26 April 2003
Blush
I'm a magnet for weirdness.
I still manage a few times a week to go down the stairs at work. Some days, I do 30+ floors, some days, 40+ floors. Doing it keeps my legs in decent enough shape for the Ouachitas and backpacking.
The other day, I did a short haul of 24 floors, and as I approached the lobby, I heard voices. That's pretty unusual for most of the staircases I frequent. Staircases seem to be the most unused portions of skyscrapers. Over the course of a few weeks, I actually witnessed an apple core go moldy and become unrecognizeable in one of the staircases. Someone had left it on a pipe. I guess at least one other person had ventured into that staircase : ).
Anyway, I heard voices, and what did I behold as I turned the last flight, but two firefighters standing before the lobby door and a ton of their gear lying on the floor around them. That wasn't the weird thing. The weird thing was that they were both clad only in their underwear and (hopefully) changing into their fire outfits. They kinda nervously laughed when they saw me, and one of them mumbled that they were doing a competition that day (it's the tallest building, and I imagine that it would be a prime place to practice skyscraper stuff). I nervously laughed back and almost tripped stepping over a huge extinguisher or oxygen tank type thingie. I then mumbled something about my legs not working right after so many floors and managed to get by them without impaling myself on an axe.
Maybe I imagined the whole thing. I didn't actually see two guys in their underwear in the busiest, tallest building downtown, did I?
And for those wondering...boxer briefs. Gray. : )
[Posted at 23:51 on 04/26/03]
23 April 2003
Best Buds
Yes, I'm still alive. Don't know why I haven't been posting much. Busy. Quiet. The war. Lent. Church. Life. Work. Dogs. Music. And best of all, Kev.
Gotta get back in the saddle at some point. : )
I didn't realize my dear friend, Cathy, had put up an entry about this (scroll down to the April 19th entry) till I checked my referrer logs this evening.
Hmmm. It's not the first time I've pushed the Cobe over 100 mph. I would like to say I won't ever find another reason to, but I know myself too well. I swore the last time (on the SW Frwy, where the speeds approached 120 mph) would be the last. That wasn't THAT long ago.
And, yeah, John called Kev to tell him that they surrender, but I seem to recall that they also mentioned something about me being a lunatic too. Hmmm.
I must say, I was impressed with Cathy's Wendy. That little girl can haul. I think the Cobra is smitten. : )
[Posted at 22:17 on 04/23/03]
15 April 2003
One Last Time
I've never met Kev's friend, John. I've talked to him a couple of times on the phone. We exchange emails often. Hard to consider someone a friend when we've never met, but I feel he qualifies as such. One day, I hope to meet him and give him a hug.
He sent the following email today. Much sobbing on my part ensued after following the link. The song is beautiful. And awful. And devastating. I didn't ask his permission to put his email up. I hope he doesn't mind.
Jonesboro's remix of Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" after the Westside Middle School shootings. Queen Elizabeth sending her band out to perform OUR national anthem in the days immediately following 9/11. Alan Jackson giving voice to our sorrow and bewilderment. Toby Keith giving us permission to be furious.And now, another song that had me on the floor blubbering like a baby, although that may have something to do with how badly the darkness has been kicking my ass lately. Dusty Drake's "One Last Time." I don't think it's specifically about 9/11, but the details are close enough to cause a powerful emotional resonance.
If you can, listen to it here:
Slow connection,Windows Media
Fast connection,Windows Media
[Posted at 12:01 on 04/15/03]
Headlines (Aggregate)
This website utilizes Cascading Style Sheets. It will work with older browsers, but the experience will be much better with a standards-compliant browser. All website content Copyright (c) Callie. Powered by Movable Type.