Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life

Introduction

My life is, to me, ripe with frequent challenges, occasional successes, spontaneous laughter, adequate tears, and enough *life* to last me a lifetime. To you, however, it surely seems most pedestrian. And therefore, I recycle the name I used previously and call this my Notebooks of Daily Life. Daily, because it's everyday in nature, ordinary. These conglomeration of events that are my life are of interest to me because I live it, perhaps mildly so to those who are touched by it, and could only be of perverse, morbid curiosity to anyone else. Yet, I offer them here nonetheless. Make of them what you will, and perhaps you can learn from my mistakes.


Sinasohn.Net

Home Notebooks Photos
Contact Notable


Family

Dad
Rachel
Jared
Sara
Scotty
Daniel
Harry
Stan
Sellam
Doug


Business

TechSynthesis
Roger Sinasohn, Author


Fun

Uncle Roger's Classic Computers
The Vintage Computer Festival
Northern California Rover Club
Atari Bay Area Computer Users Society
iStockPhoto (My portfolio)
Listology


Recent Comments

Who's the Pussy Now? [3]
Magnalite Memories [2]
What It Means To Be An American [1]
Why I Care -- The Daddy Edition [1]
To Those I Have Offended [2]


April
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
   
     


.. Visitors ..
Locations of visitors to this page


An RSS Feed is also available.


powered
by
blosxom


Sunday, April 06, 2008

Suicide Mission

I've often been amazed at how birds can fly in front of cars and never get hit. Well, no more. Yesterday, we were zipping down the freeway when suddenly, a handful of birds lept into the air from a bush in the center shoulder. We were going... well, lets just say we were cruising down 280, moving with the flow of traffic and there might have been the possibility that we were exceeding the posted speed limit (65mph) slightly -- like by about a third. Not that I'm admitting anything, mind you.

The last of the birds to take flight didn't plan its flight path so well -- it plowed into the windshield with a huge thump. Naturally, I ducked and when I sat back up, all that was left was a few feathers, some blood, and a bit of poop. As someone once said, first you say it, then you do it. Rachel, startled, asked what that was and I responded, half under my breathe, "el bird-o." Jared misheard me and thought I said "Myrtle". He kept asking about the myrtle and we sort of brushed him off.

Later, I checked to outside, hoping that the carcass wasn't stuck under the tent. It wasn't, but in addition to the smudge on the windshield, there was a smudge on the roof by the first support pillar for the ten and then on the side window at the rear.

[ Posted: 16:00 | comments: | print ]