Back on the Beat

I still haven't managed to get a new inner tube for the bike. I figured that I could just pick one up at Target, but they only have mountain bike tires and tubes. So once more I find myself walking up Bought Road, which has its drawbacks. Namely a) people drive so fast they whoosh by and you fear for your life and b) they stare at you as if they had never seen a person walking before (something I know not to be true). Once I get up the hill, it's better.


Turkeys on both sides of the road, a lone one in the yard of the house by the power lines and a group of six behind the house with the blue gazing ball. Judging by the sides of the road the top litterers are smokers, beer drinkers and fast food customers. But I did see some gold finches and lots of wild flowers, so it wasn't all ugly. The worst moment was seeing a little striped kitty by the side of the road in front of the religious school, so I hugged my Kipper when I got home. He will stay an indoor cat.

I've been considering the theme of liminality in my own writing (after thinking about Neil's formula and worrying that I have one, too), and it strikes me that our house was no accident. While our address is in Watervliet, our house is not. A neighbor told Gene a story about the old guy who once lived being dropped off at the driveway in great distress by the Watervliet police or rescue, because this house is actually in Colonie (which 'round these parts is pronounced col-uh-KNEE). Guess we live in the house on the borderland.