And all for a good cause

So they gave out one of these medals to everyone who completed the first 75 miles of the MS150 City to Shore bike ride on Saturday, which included the two of us. (City to shore being from the suburbs of Philly to Ocean City New Jersey.) If it hadn't been for Donna, I probably wouldn't have done it this year.

That would have been a shame. It was a beautiful day for cycling, and the view of the ocean as we barreled into Ocean City was spectacular. An offshore storm had the waves rolling up to the size of mountains. The sky -- pardon the cliche -- was truly alabaster. Later we met up with old friends we'd unexpectedly met along the way, and bought Kohr Brother's frozen custard on the boardwalk.

And all for a good cause, research into Multiple Sclerosis. So many of the participants, and the hard working volunteers who supported them, know someone who is suffering from MS. The irony of being able to exult in physical activity on their behalf lurked over the day's activities.

Still tinkering

Hi all. I'm still tinkering with the look and feel of Wissahickon Diary, as you may have noticed if you're a regular visitor. (And yes, I know it isn't working quite right in Internet Explorer. I'll try to fix that tonight.) With each iteration, I get more confident in going "under the hood" of the Blogger template and making changes to the HTML and CSS. Heck, I might even make this a monthly thing, ala Dooce, creating a new banner to refect the current season.

Anyway, I'm having fun. I'll start posting new photos soon.

An agreement

So here’s the deal. She can stay where she is, in that inch or so of space between the cabinet and the wall. For my part, I won’t scrunch her up in a tissue and flush her down the toilet, though that would be so easy to do, given that the toilet is, after all, only three feet away. Nor will I trap her in a glass and throw her out the window to fend for herself in the wilderness of the backyard.

She, for her part, has to understand – and I don’t mean to give offense, I’m just telling it as it is – that the mere sight of her creeps me out. I don’t want to be rubbing elbows (my two to her eight) in the morning as I brush my teeth or do what little shaving it is that I do. She forgets this from time to time, but a rap or two of the tooth bush on the counter is sufficient to send her scurrying. When I’m not home, I don’t really care what she does. She can watch Oprah and Ellen, or surf the net. Or wait for other bugs to get caught in her web. She is not allowed into the homebrew, but so far this has not been a problem.

And finally this: I keep a messy bathroom; I know and don't need to be told. She is going to have to accept this without complaint.

Whales

Whale mural, as seen from Market Street Bridge, Center City, Philadelphia.

Drexel Dragon

Drexel University, Wednesday morning.

Heading in

Drexel University, West Philadelphia, early Wednesday morning.

Heading in to work, that is; not the fountain.

Woke up same time I did

Tom, Sunday afternoon.

Hannah baby was a honey of a girl

From my bedroom, Sunday afternoon, after the nap.

Hurricane Hannah, or what little of her we got, gave us a windy and raining Saturday without too much fuss, and departed by Sunday leaving us with a splendid early autumn day.

By the way, this is Monday's post going up Sunday night. I'm tired of looking at the yellow caution tape.

Please be careful

I will be working on Wissahickon Diary this weekend, revamping the design and some of the content. If you stop by, don't be alarmed if the site is down, or if it looks really funky.

Have a great weekend!

Unhappy plastic frog

This makeshift birdbath is actually the bottom tray of a flower pot. The plastic frog was found buried deep in the ground while digging in the garden.

Honeysuckle

Honeysuckle, front porch, Sunday evening.

Hard to get mad at honeysuckle. Its kind of of like the stray cat that'll do anything to win your affections. The flowers are not only pretty to look at, but what a sweet aroma it puts into the breeze on a late summer night.

Red wheel barrow, yes; chickens, no.

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
-- William Carlos Williams

A bit blurry (as were we)

Peppers on the grill, Sunday evening.