Where’s the Turk? He was here just a minute ago, I’d swear it.
After a brief encounter with actual fall weather we’re back to what passes for normal here in the Duke City — heat and homicide.
Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) returned to his favored observation post upon the battlements, to wit, the ledge of our bedroom window.
His adjutant, Miss Mia Sopaipilla, has been shifting among various cozy spots — atop one of the Twin Towers, across a sun-splashed stretch of carpet next to the living-room coffee table, near the foot of the bed — and sometimes burrows under the covers, where she adopts her alter ego of Lumpy the Bedbug.
There are worse places to be than astride the saddle of a Vespa on a sunny day.
A fella has to be careful where he sits on the bed when Lumpy’s in residence.
I was able to run in shorts and a T-shirt by 9:30 or thereabouts, chatted productively with a local bicycle retailer (road bikes are out, mountain bikes are in), and late in the day decided to take the Vespa for a spin to charge the battery and keep its vital fluids circulating.
The highlight of the day may have been this little news nugget, from my old hometown of Greality, Colorado. As I sez to one of my old UNC bros, I sez, ’tis often that we were crazed on the auld L-S-Dizzy Back in the Day®, but ne’er e’er did we try to bite a constable in the cojones. We were hopin’ for a nip at the coeds so.
