raking and shotguns

Two quickies:

A fascinating Cobb post, one in a series about "Ghetto Games," talks about the psychology of "slapboxing."

Jeff reads my mind when it comes to giving aid to North Korea.

Being back in Virginia means I can do cool stuff like rake leaves. Our house is surrounded by tall trees, which, at the moment, I can't take for granted. Seoul doesn't offer much healthy greenery-- I get my big-sky fix by visiting the Olympic Park, which is a poor stand-in for actual Big Sky.

So today (Friday, I mean) I began raking the front yard. Saturday, I finish the job, along with the back yard. Then we're off to watch my brother Sean play in a concert with the Fairfax Symphony.

I also think I'd like to buy a shotgun. I'm contemplating this because I'd like to remove the heads of the punks who-- just last night-- smashed in one of the windows on my parents' Ford Windstar, which was parked on the street. The window, I saw on closer inspection, had been hit twice. No projectiles were in the van; I assume the culprits used a blunt object to make their point, whatever their point was. A shotgun also makes a point, which is why I currently want one.

My family has suffered four auto break-ins this year: my brother David's car was broken into twice in DC, and my parents' Windstar was broken into about a month ago (no damage, but compartments had been opened... the van was unlocked at the time), then vandalized last night. I don't know whether the same people were involved in both Windstar incidents. That'd be a mite sinister.

No matter. Tonight we dream of double-barreled happiness.
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