:: from July 3-5, 2011 ::
Happy birthday Julie.
We left them carless at the Issaquah Motel 6, with advice from Uncle Bill about some express bus service to Seattle. Back to Centralia.
On the way up, I'd caught the Vin Diesel movie. It was either that, or listen to the sound track from my lower bunk. You might think, as some kind of Quaker, that I'd be against this romp through Rio, tearing things up by dragging a special effects bag of tricks though an amazing number of obstacles. It's "kinetics" in that 14 year old sense of wanting to know more physics, see what might happen if... action fantasies fulfilled, using someone's sense of what's believable.
The relatives were hardy and fun once again, a kindly clan.
Floyd pilots those triple-7s to way distant airports. Boeing has always been big in this region, since I was born anyway, which was not all that long ago (1958).
We made a side trip going North in Puyallup to the Costco on 512, a big fuel-wasting mistake on my part, or maybe a commercial. It was closed of course.
Albertson's and Baskin-Robins supplied our contributions to the picnic, including some hard cider selected by me.
I was doing some work on the laptop. PSF business as well. That's ongoing.
Pauling House: Barbara was with us, telling us about her life tending to her almost-100 years old mother. Dick Pugh. Dondi. Me showing up late from Food Not Bombs where the native chanting was heartening. Wave to Melody (one of our chiefs).
I talked with Derek's friend about televising-while-building-out the FNB infrastructure. He was closer to my age, with a lot of experience running big institutions.
Stopped at Office Depot on the way back, got Tara some office furniture. Then it appears her HP Pavilion is dying, younger SATA drive reporting immanent failure direct from BIOS. Is it the iMac that moved in, a work/study program item? No, that doesn't explain it.
Lots of talk about scuba diving tonight (Dondi is getting certified). I bragged about my NAUI certification, my wreck diving in Truk Lagoon. No, I'm not above bragging, like to strut when others are doing it.
That Vin Diesel movie was funny in that way. The heroes made off with the cash, to which the bad guy was not entitled, and were living their dreams. Fast cars. A kind of Mondo Unisex in the behavior codes. The movie had like a role model for everyone. You could like cops, you could not like cops, you could be Asian...
I'm seeing movie-making as more of an alternative to violence. Instead of actually having these bruising battles between superheroes, we act them out and save lives. We're heroes ourselves for just making this an idle summer fantasy in Centralia. They see more of Rio, and favelas rising.
Like the Bond films in that way. Another topic tonight around the table. Dondi had been learning about Ian Flemming, how he got it out of his system. She hadn't known he wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I got to be the font of knowledge about something (like explaining "geek" to Steve -- he took it as the straight man).
Brazil: that's where Keiko is from, our lovely Lyrik owner.
