Sunday Seven

And so it goes.

One. I came across these articles and links to an Ancient Greek “computer” that was used to calculate
the locations of the planets. It’s a bit of an astrology/astronomy/archeology puzzle.

Two. Weather’s been too nice. I cleared a good ten miles around the hike and bike trail, aiming for the springs, and deciding that it might be too cool for me to take a dip.

Three. Mercury is backwards and folks are just falling out of trees with weird problems. Full moon didn’t help any, near as I can tell.

Four. Bubba came by and took me to the Chili Parlor for some dinner. He asked the waitress about the letter hanging around her neck, I said it stood for “Pisces,” and she remembered that I’d guessed her sign a week or two back. “He’s amazing,” she said, to which, Bubba replied, “Yeah, you should see him turn jello into pudding. It’s really fun at a strip club, on ‘Jello Wrestling Night.’ Some girl thinks she’s covered in jello, it turns out it’s just butterscotch.”

Seven. Hotmail problems. Again.

5 & 6 got traded in at Waterloo for a new CD.

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