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Monthly Archives: August 2002

Overheard

Monday, August 12, 2002

“I like the FedEx Ground colors better than I like the FedEx Air colors.”

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Flags Everywhere

Monday, August 12, 2002

Another set of photos.

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Part Four

Saturday, August 10, 2002

I’ve regained complete control of the tea situation. My backup teapot (with its spill-generating poorly crafted spout) has been stored on an out-of-the-way shelf and a sterile-looking, but very adequate, French press has been brought in for ongoing tea-making needs.
As a bonus, I happily discovered a forgotten month’s supply of Darjeeling hiding behind the [...]

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Slogans and Headlines

Wednesday, August 7, 2002

Washington Post headline:
U.S. Defies Judge on Enemy Combatant
Front-page Seattle Times headline for the same story:
U.S. balks at judge’s order in terror war
Excerpt:
The Justice Department yesterday defied a federal judge’s order to provide him with documents that would have supported the government’s classification of a U.S.-born man captured in Afghanistan and being held in a Navy [...]

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Old Schools

Monday, August 5, 2002

A guy came over to talk to me. “How long have you been wearing those Old Schools?”
I was sitting at the Japanese noodle place staring at a newspaper. He had a soul patch.
“Excuse me?” I looked down at my clothes for something that someone might call old school. My shirt was [...]

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Disheveled

Monday, August 5, 2002

I felt especially disheveled today. I like that word, disheveled. When I say it, I pronounce it correctly aloud – “di-shev-old”, but at the same time I sound it out in my head incorrectly – “dis-heave-old”.
I realized, in the early afternoon, what a state of dishevelment I was in after I noticed that [...]

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Pieces

Saturday, August 3, 2002

Last night, as I finished reading a story, I got up and ran into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I pulled a glass from the overflowing drainer beside the sink. The dishes left in the drainer shifted around the glass. My teapot lid was displaced, it rolled out the [...]

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The Dumps

Friday, August 2, 2002

The break-up conversation stung almost as much as the break-up does.
Ingrid and I hadn’t had one of those difficult frank discussion in awhile – the kind where I, stubbornly but honestly, had trouble understanding how everything had reached such a straining point. Instead of forgetting about them, I guess I should have wondered why [...]

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