Ingrown Corn Husk

Early this morning I awoke from a bizarre dream.

I was naked and waiting in line to buy a printer from what appeared to be the locker room for the YMCA.

An itch developed on my palm, and I noticed an ingrown hair smack dab in the middle of my hand.

Pulling at it, it kept growing from my palm until I had about 3 feet of long coarse hair dangling.

The hair kept getting wider, and started to become a corn cob husk the more I pulled it out.  It eventually came to the 'root,' and was about an inch wide at this point.  I dug at my hand until I could see the connection point, then proceeded to rip out the growth.  Pain shot through my hand and woke me up.

What in the hell was I doing printer shopping in the nude in a locker room?

My hand felt odd as I sipped my morning coffee.

Impending Independence

Even though it is not yet April, I found myself thinking of fireworks, and the impending holiday that is our nation's anniversary of independence.  Scrolling through my archive of photos, I found one that captures a bottle rocket (one of hundreds fired that year) mid flight.

Holes

I have two different holes in each thigh of a pair of insulated pants.

One was caused by a rogue nail that caught me as I slimmed my way through an old wall and a pallet of wine.

The other, was eaten into the pants by battery acid introduced by leaning over the cluster of terminals for a forklift.

These two holes have been there for a while, and I'm just now realizing that with them being insulated (and as such sealed at the ankles) they have been slowly filling up with debris.

I fear, in time, these pants may grow too heavy to wear.

Untouched

Yesterday, I went into work with my boss to work on a training manual for our warehouse.

After a few hours, his neighbor showed up and we gave him a tour of our very interesting building.

We went into some difficult to access and essentially untouched rooms that are a creepy snapshot of a time forgotten.

Here are two photos I captured, one of an ancient electical device and another of a pigeon skeleton.

Midnight Train

Driving home over the East Helena viaduct in the late hours last night, I was accompanied by no traffic and a long dark train.  We were travelling roughly the same speed.

The absence of street lights held the train in the darkness of midnight for what seemed forever both in front of and behind me, on the tracks off to my right.

I thought of industry and tranquility, two things I don't normally associate.

When we reached the lights of my humble city, the train blasted its shrill horn through the night, and the peace was over.

Flowers

I've never been much of a flower guy, but I must admit I do enjoy the pretty flowers my wife displays throughout the house.

These ones are still awaiting their instinctive call to open up.

VinLiner

Yesterday's blog was rudely interrupted by work emergencies and St. Patrick's Day shenanigans.

A sealed shipping container full of exotic wines finally made its way to our warehouse after weeks of sitting in the Pacific due to the longshoreman strikes.  Hacksawing all the locking mechanisms to get the container unsealed was somewhat of a delight, something reminiscent of unsealing an ancient tomb perhaps.  Once inside, we were greeted by an aluminum covered tarp completely encapsulating the contents within.  I had a thought of Russian dolls, bypassing seal after seal.

It seemed such a shame to cut open the tarp, which resembled a gigantic space blanket of sorts.  Once the wine was unloaded, I went to put the now destroyed silvery mess back into the container.

"That's yours too..." the grizzled truck driver informed me.

Now, sitting in an unused corner of the warehouse, we have a few hundred square feet of tattered transoceanic insulation.

I found a logo informing me that it was made by a company called 'VinLiner.'

I shall attempt to contact this company to see if there are any potential recycling options for said tarp.  Seems a shame to simply send to the dump.

I Do Not

Some people weigh 300 pounds and wear shorts and flip flops all year long.

I do not.

Of Mitch and Scotch

Tapping my pen against my newly acquired notepad late last night, I pondered what to write about.

I got to thinking about my blog, which turned my brain towards you, Mitch Hegman.  I very much associate blogs and Mitch.

Then, thinking of Mitch I naturally thought of scotch, and how I currently don't have any scotch.  Nothing smoky, nothing peaty, nothing smooth and delicious.

I need to buy some scotch.

This is me, thinking out loud.

The Photo Says It All

Can't Remember

Yesterday, while doing something (what, I cannot remember), a thought came to me and I decided it would make a wonderful entry into my blog.

This morning, when I pressed my mind to it, whatever wonderful little thought I had was nowhere to be found.  This is not the first time that this has happened, and every time it does, I decide that I should carry around a little notepad so that I can jot down ideas.

Have I ever remembered to buy and carry a little notepad?  No.

Two vs Too

It's been nearly two months since I've written in my blog.

That's too long.

It's creeping on two years since we've moved to Helena.

Is that too long to still be living with my dad?

In less than two years I will be 30.

Am I getting too old to behave like I do?