Ol’ Robbo apologizes for the lack of posting this past week – this and that have imposed themselves upon his limited free time.
However, since the Nats dropped a winnable game to the Yanks rayther early this evening, I at least have a few minutes to get in a little gratuitous Aubrey/Maturin posting now. (For those of you who know what this means, read on. For those of you who don’t, pray follow the link, read up on things, and then visit the devil’s website to order up your copy of Master and Commander, the first book of the series. You won’t regret it.)
Firsto, I should mention that I have been a member of an Aubrey-Maturin Appreciation Society over on teh FaceBooks for some time now, much to my edification and satisfaction. A few months back, one of my fellow members (who happens to be a professional historickal artist) began offering our crew a bumper sticker. I have not received permission to post a screen-shot of it, but I can describe it: Against a background of the Royal Navy flag, it says in bold “AUBREY/MATURIN ’16” with an underlying text of “There’s not a moment to lose, for all love…” I slapped said sticker on the back of La Wrangler a couple days ago, and the puzzled expressions that I’ve seen in my rear-view mirror since then have been priceless.
Secundo, I should mention that in the summah I generally drive with all the back panels off said (soft top) Wrangler, since she has no A/C.
Anyhoo, yesterday, as I left teh office, a violent thunderstorm was bearing down on my particular corner of Your Nation’s Capital. In order to get from my garage to teh route out of town toward Port Swiller Manor, I first have to travel about half a block east before swinging about to pick up the primary westward artery. I did this just as the main blast of teh storm hit, which meant that for a couple moments solid packets of rain were being blown straight in through the backside of La Wrangler, dousing the dashboard, the inside of the windshield, and the back of my head and arms.
My only response? A shrug and a muttered, “Yes, a right dirty commute, mate.”
Eh, I amuse me.
Speaking of which, another source of amusement that will only make sense to local friends: That “primary westward artery” of which I speak is Constitution Avenue, which, of course, eventually empties out on to the Teddy Roosevelt Bridge. The ramp for the northbound George Washington Parkway (which I need to take) is on the far side of said TR Bridge, but in order to get to it from Constitution, one must merge over to the right several lanes. This is a major pain at rush hour. In order to avoid it, I have found it makes sense to break off from Constitution just past the White House on Virginia Avenue, take Virginia up past GWU, hit the I-66 on-ramp just opposite the Watergate, and run in on the TR already in the far-righty lane.
Constitution runs due west to the TR. So in order to take my alternate route, I literally run northwest and then southwest. At the critical point where I swing round to pick up the highway over teh bridge, I always say “helm hard over“.
Yes, I amuse me more. But it’s harmless.