Cell phone rings a few minutes ago and on its screen it shows the number as “restricted.” I answer it anyway and low if it isn’t L.A. Times columnist Steve Harvey saying hey and wanting to know if he could quote from my Blogging.la posts (here and here) and use the photo I took from …
1) Which handlebar is the new one and which is the crashed one? 2) Assuming you correctly guessed the answer to No. 1, which tip of the crashed bar was my ribcage plunged upon hard enough to tear a hole in my beloved 2006 L.A. River Ride staff shirt and then rake down my torso …
In the six nights I’ve kept a video camera with motion-sensored image-capturing software trained on the “rat cave” I reconstructed since first displacing the momma rat and then subsequently discovering (with Ranger’s help) the nest of six rodent newborns, the best I’ve been able to come up with in terms of proof of momma’s comings …
We are remiss! If, as we estimated, Ranger and her three brothers and sisters were in the six-week age range when we found them in Utah’s Monument Valley July 11 of 2006, then that means that Ranger’s first birthday (approximately June 1 but I’m going to say May 29 because that has a nice personal …
Yeah, that’s right. I’d rather bust out the needle and spool — mangled knuckles and all — and suture up a saddlepack zipper that’s ripped free rather than plunk down the $14.95 for a new one. Some call it cheap. I call it frugal. And while I won’t win any awards for my stitchery, dang …
I’m thinking it’s time to retire these fine fellas: They’ve served proud and done me well, but it’s time to say so long.