Odd/small things that reassure you you're home.

Here is Nik at his original residence.





Nik and a new pal

Ah, makes me think of the Aroo Dog. He was a big sucker, some sort of hound, and he would howl at all hours. Hence that was what we called him. I think he's crossed over, but RP says he saw/heard what might be a New Aroo.

I had come back from vacation, and the last day and a half ruined any peace that had been stored up over the trip.

LaGuardia Airport, the connecting gate was supposed to be next to the one we landed at, after landing was told it was at the other end of the airport. Of course missed connection, had to sit at ******* LaGuardia overnight.

Upon getting home, was looking around the garden, having been gone 2 weeks. Was exhausted and just idly picking up some newspapers that had blown onto the property.

Then, from the house across the street, and one down, came a familiar "AYYYYY YA!!"
The 2 women that live there use their 2nd floor as a studio for a karate club they belong to. In most weather they leave those windows upstairs open, during the clubs meeting. It was the sound of home. 15 or 20 people breaking pieces of wood, tossing each other around, and body slams.
I relaxed and went to bed.

People on the road being a danger to themselves and others trying to be "nice" or "safe".

I would much rather be in Chicago where other drivers dont give a damn about anyone else, but you can accurately predict what they are going to do.

I'm confused as to why you would be reassured by that, but hey.

In any event, no one is stopping you from moving to Chicago.

clop clop clop clop.
The number of Amish buggies is growing nd the number of trips they make to town I increasing.
Its apeaceful sound until some douche bag in a BMW comes flying up the road on his way to Maryland's cheap liquor stores.

the air and the rocks when I get close to

The Frontenac Arch



http://www.frontenacpark.ca/pages/FrontNews59.html





I breathe better once I'm there.

limestone makes me happy

That reminds me re: peaceful sounds.

A train whistle in the distance.

I grew up near tracks, and on a river. The draw bridge would close, and the train would whistle at the midway point. It was far enough away that it just sounded very clear and sweet coming over the water.

Now I live maybe 3/4's of a mile as the crow flies from a RR crossing. With the amount of homes and business in between to buffer, it sounds very comforting if you happen to be awake when it blows in the middle of the night.

The milk float at around 6am.




There's something very homely and comforting about that electric motor winding its tune upwards then down again as it stops at the next customer.
There is then some clinking of bottles and a front gate slamming on its spring, further clinking as the full bottles of milk replace the empties on the doorstep, and once more when the empties get put into a crate on the float.

The whining sound starts again as he heads off to next door but one, where the process starts all over again.

On and on until the milkman has buggered off into another street and out of hearing.

I've heard this sound nearly every day of my life, apart from when I'm abroad.

One milkman delivered to our house for at least fifteen years. He was known by everyone as whistling Sid, as he had a two tone whistling tune which he kept up (presumably) all day.
One long high note, one long lower note. High. Low. High. Low.
Almost like a lullaby.

He retired when I was in my late teens, and died a fortnight later. There were over two hundred people at his funeral, and every time I hear the song "Grocer Jack", I always think of Sid, as there seems to be a distinct parallel.

So, the humble Milk Float is my little slice of England on a plate. Fast disappearing because of the supermarkets, but my fingers are crossed for a revival before they become extinct.


Here is a typical British milkman....

It could be the bar on the corner (great bar pizzas) or the Uhaul place just before turning down my street. Or maybe the empty lot with trash and crap all over.

Yeah childhood memories.

Certain people.

There is this guy. I don't think he's homeless, but must live in some kind of regulated housing. He's got some kind of mental illness. He has his regular routes up and down a few blocks, certain spots where he will sit on the curb. He carry on a conversation with pooka as he sips his starbucks. He's a gentle soul. The thing is, he is always very spruce, and looks like he would be a great subject for a photographer.

He's also rather timid of people, but over time he's gotten to "know" me (read he doesn't dart over to the over side of the street or parking lot when I'm walking by) because I've always made a habit to wave to him.

Now he quickly puts up a hand to say hi back.
When he's walking and no one is paying attention to him, he's actually very graceful in his movements.

It's kind of how Jane Goodall felt when the gorillas accepted her....honored.

how do you know the guy feels honored?

When I see that X and the stars at night, I know I'm in the middle of Texas.

I feel honored.

There is one, long road that leads to our airport. It was planted so that as you approach the terminal the trees get closer and closer together and they also get closer to the street. The idea was that it would make you feel like you were going faster so you'd slow down as you approached the more congested parts of the terminal.

For me, leaving the airport, and seeing this planting in reverse -- slowing down, widening up -- is like a big sigh: "Ahhhhh, I'm home."

From my youth, I felt right at home when I heard the roar of the crowd at Yankee Stadium while I was having dinner with my parents. Foodus interruptus. What happened? What happened?

These days I'm up all night. I feel at home when I hear the subway rattling underneath me in the wee hours of the morning. Can't hear it during the day. Too much other noise. Love dat rattle.

Jane Goodall was a chimp expert. Dian Fosse was the gorilla lady.

Picky me. Yes, I am a pain in the ass.

The lousy job I did fixing the brickwork on my front steps many years ago.
I keep saying I'm going to get a pro in to do it right, but I never have.

Ah, home again.
(Watch your step.)