Lion and Magic Boy

Tonight we visited the local-ish library. And got library cards. I guess to some that means we’re really residents of this humid-hell, let’s-make-up-all-our-own-laws, state called Pennsylvania, but I rationalize that just a library card doesn’t mean a thing, as you can get one almost anywhere.

On the application to obtain said card, there was a space to fill in your Pennsylvania driver’s license number, which of course I don’t have. I remarked to the librarian that I knew what was important, because here I was, barely in the state two weeks, and obtaining my library card with no PA driver’s license. In other words, I can flaunt the law requiring new residents to get a local driver’s license probably for months before I relinquish my Colorado license, but at least I’ll be well-read when they cart me off to the pokey.

teachnorati tags: library card, denial

Is it my imagination, or is my neighborhood entirely too patriotic these days? There was the portly guy I spotted while cycling into the subdivision bright and early yesterday after my morning ride, sporting a garish red-striped shirt emblazoned (as if the whole-body American-flag motif wasn’t enough) with an enormous eagle. And then there were my, uh, neighbors, after having exhausted their assortment of grilled dead animals, who shot bottle rockets and sparkly things and who knows what else as long as it went boom into the park across the street until all hours of the night.

What does this mean, really?

Just call me curmudgeon.

July 4
get off my lawn