Do as I say, not as I do
If you don’t “run to the same place you started from” you won’t be able to drive home.
Rake them into the street, over the storm drain, then burn them. That’s what my dad used to do, along with most of the neighbours.
How can you run from your problems, if you keep returning.
Into the street? Where they can blow back? Or get wet and make the road very slippery?
I am addicted to a particular form of pattern dancing called “contradance” (and man oh MAN am I jonesing for a fix… but that’s another issue). One of our standard jokes is that after about 90 seconds dancing the pattern, you just do it again (with different neighbors in the dance). “What a waste of perfectly good music!”
I hope Miss Plainwell didn’t hear too much.
If I let the leaves and pine needles stay on my grass it dies!
Did that one year, had to re-seed!
Frazz does not know what he is talking about!!!
Speaking of pointless . . .
That’s “from which we start”, Honey. No wonder kids can’t speak their native language.
Is there a distance between these two points?
Just mow the damned leaves and move on.
Very good for the grass just “To let them be.”
So looking forward to tomorrow’s strip. This arc was a z-z-z-z-z
Leaves need to be raked to the edge of the lawn. “Don’t rake leaves into the street. This is a violation of Chapter 50, Article II, Section 50-32 of the South Windsor Code of Ordinances and is punishable by fines up to $99.00.” Also you can not bag them here.
When I go for my daily walk, I always end up where I started, back at home. Fortunately!
When some bright young fellow commented here yesterday that it would be refreshing to see Mallett show some self-awareness, I don’t think this is what he had in mind.
Why not cop to the obsessiveness of all the training and clocking and gear acquiring? What we get instead — a disingenuous admission of the “pointless[ness]” of running — is not convincing.
Does anyone out here believe in the sincerity of Mallett’s self-deprecation? I sure don’t.
What a phony.
Many years ago I lived in a city in the Central Valley of California. We would rake our leaves into a big pile on the side of the street, wrap some potatoes in aluminium foil, stick them in the pile and light the leaves up. By the time it got down to the street, the potatoes were baked. MMMMMMM.
Just found something else that’s pointless. This arc.
Mulching mower. Send all that good compost right back to nature, where it came from and where it belongs. Circle of life and all that.
And nobody mentions that the pointless part is measuring them?
As to both themes here: it’s not the destination, it’s the journey.
July 31, 2013