Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, January 14, 2005


Eh. New place over on Greensprings in the Publix shopping center. Nice and clean, which is a real plus. Variety of "Happy Smiling Campesinos Grinding Corn and Carrying Things" motif artwork, exposed black-painted ductwork and roof structure that fairly well screams coolness of the twee and insipid variety. Their big deal is burritos, so I decided to get a quesadilla. Steak. Meaning three small spoons of tiny, beefish meat chunks. Lots of cheese, though. It was actually pretty tasty, but seeing them make it, with the three small spoons of meat, really sets you up for a disappointment. It might have been better had I been left to my own devices in figuring out the exact amount. Jeff had the shredded beef taco salad, which looked much better, since it looked like a lot of meat. "Shredded beef," however, sound unappetizingly like a cow attacked by katana-wielding ninjas.

Topics, as usual, hit all over the place--he's still working on his house, so there's the requisite tradesman chatter; painters, framers, HVAC mechanics. Then on to real estate agents, creepy Michael Jackson, in-laws, Christmas, cars, stupid people, job. Same old stuff, but somehow good to hear it again.

And then, the magazine swap. He was tickled by one in particular that had a series of articles on Cutlasses and 442s. He had a '72 Cutlass Supreme convertible (kinda like this) in high school, and has been longing after one ever since. I know how he feels--I regret selling my '72 Monte Carlo. (This one's a dead ringer for the one I had. ::sigh::)

Anyway, a good time, as usual.

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