Speaking Too Soon

I'd like to rescind my previous statement about being slowed down but not stopped. Apparently there is a limit, and I've reached it.

To preserve my own sanity, I am abstaining from any further writing about the Frankenstella, or even mentioning her name. From now on she will be like one of those ex-boyfriends so cursed that no one dares utter his name, lest the devil appear. Should I mistakenly refer to her again, I shall spit upon the floor.

This means I won't try and figure out what karmic cloud has descended on me that someone would push my poor injured scooter over into the street while she was awaiting repair in Fremont, finishing off what was left of her cosmetic appeal. It means I have had enough. There is a point of no return and I have crossed it.

So instead of sniffling on about how unfair life is, I will post two pretty pictures I took today on the Bainbridge Ferry.

It was unbelievably bright and sunny today. When JJ called to talk me out of stabbing myself in the eyeball with a blunt household object, she decided to get us on a boat and get out of town. We ran around Paulsbo and ate at an overpriced Italian joint, visited the Nordic bakery and stared at the golden mountains at sunset. It's refreshing to get out of the city, even just for the afternoon. It puts things like voodoo scooters into perspective.

Now where'd I put that meat tenderizer...