Monday, February 10, 2014

I’m full. Of food. The rest comes later.

I wasn’t hungry, but I got to thinking about Chinese. So I went to the kitchen and cooked. The dog is fat. The only recourse was for me to eat the stuff.

I’m full.

Over indulgence. I know. But, hey, it’s okay. Speaking of which:

Seattle is the kind of city where outdoors nuts move to really get physical, so it makes sense that somebody would want to drop a vapor-spitting sauna right in the middle of one of its scenic coves.

The proposed floating hot-box would be set adrift in Union Bay on air-filled barrels this summer if architectural firm goCstudio obtains Kickstarter funding. The designers’ vision is that the sauna will become a sweaty saloon where locals can kick back, take in the view, maybe chat about the enduring awesomeness of Marshawn Lynch. As they explain:

We had more snow last night. I went out this morning and ran up and down the drive, checked mail, bitched about the old gas company not sending me a bill, came home and cut a donut or so in the access road snow and parked the truck in the garage.

Have you any idea how easy it is to do donuts with a truck with snow tires when it is empty?

I mean, really.

Of course, this post is about over indulgence. I should mention , I suppose, that I read about the football player in a neighboring state claiming he is gay. Having done so, I must also admit that all the dumb ass people climbing on board praising him and his actions epitomizing him as a model American didn’t get read.

I could have cared less about him and his pseudo-heroics, and even less about those claiming heroics for him.

It’s kind of like, you know, over-indulgence of another kind.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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