Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Don't call me as I will not call you back...
So in the process of trying to "find" my skinner self I "lost" my cell phone. The saga starts where I'm on my newly remodeled bike (extra wide handle bars (Due to my expansive chest) and a new speedometer to
avoid getting a ticket from MarLa's co-workers) I zip about nine miles when that little voice in my head says, "Keith did you zip your little pouch shut that holds your cell phone in on your bike bag?" Screeching to a halt which took a while as I was going an amazing 17.9 miles per hour I limped off my bike and NNNOOOO. It was not zipped and it was GONE!!!
I looked in the cloudless sky and said to the man upstairs WHYYY didn't the voice come sooner? He answered and said ... I'll tell you what he said when his response hits my slow thick skull. Needles to say I did a 180 and double timed it back with speeds that would have made "American Pharaoh" look like she was at a stand still.
I'm sure at intersections small children mistook me for Captain America on a bike. Having peddled the flats of the valley and up 277th Mount Kilimanjaro to Military road I came up empty. I was by then admittedly exhausted and tired. So stand by as a replacement phone is as they say "in the mail". What's weird is last few days have been like the 1970's and 80's where I find myself free of the Matrix and the fibers of the world wide web. Big brother does not know where I am 24/7. And I kind of like it. It must be the dirt farmer in my blood.
Phoneless in Seattle