Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Computer adventures continued to intrude, although most of them have come to favorable resolutions (knock wood.) My square foot garden thrives. And I’ve been very productively busy on both Deathlands and The Dinosaur Lords this [...]]]> Started out a happy, productive day. Then it twisted bizarrely into one of those days.

Sorry I’ve been out of touch. Computer adventures continued to intrude, although most of them have come to favorable resolutions (knock wood.) My square foot garden thrives. And I’ve been very productively busy on both Deathlands and The Dinosaur Lords this week.

Thing started spinning out when I was at dinner with friends. We were gathering an hour earlier tongiht because we had an Albuquerque Science Fiction Society meeting at 7:30. Then we got a call from Craig, who often joins us, but never on ASFS nights because he runs the meetings.

It seemed the local artist who kindly allows us use of his space for meetings one Friday a month had locked his keys to the inside the building. His attempts to find the people with duplicates were going for naught.

I arrived at the usual meeting place to be met by the harried artist himself, who said he’d sent others to a park about four blocks away. So I went there.  And saw nobody from the club. I did, however, see a Cooper’s hawk fly into a tree nearby – oddly, the second I’d seen today.

Then Joe called on his cell phone. His dog George had died. He wasn’t sure why – he suspected heart attack or stroke, possibly brought on in part by the recent heat, which seemed to affect poor George adversely. It’s a great shame; George was a good dog, and I liked him, and Joe loved him a great deal.

I asked if there was anything I could do – in case he wanted me to come over to commiserate. But Joe is stoic, and very private about such things. I’d be crushed and want a shoulder to cry on if anything happened to one of my animals (which, of course, it will someday, as it does to us all.)

A few people eventually turned up at the park. Then our artist-host drove up, telling us Craig wanted everybody to gather back at the studio so we could pick a better venue.  The problem was, we had a guest speaker come to give a slide show on the Mars rovers, so unless we wanted to go about knocking on doors and asking if people had power outlets plus a long extension cord we could use, the park wasn’t going to serve too well. So after some grumbling we trooped back.

To find most of the club hanging out on the sidewalks spilling into the streets. Fortunately a haven had been found: India Palace restaurant, which is a favorite hangout of our Friday supper club. They have a big back room which they were willing to let us use.

So we all headed over there. And my car died flat dead on Lomas just shy of the intersection with Louisiana.  I mean it just stopped. I didn’t even have enough warning to ditch to the side, since I was in the leftmost of three lanes.

Fortunately I was just close enough to the intersection people could get into the left-turn lane. I turned on the emergency flashers and tried to push. No go: the car was on a slight up grade, and I couldn’t get it going and steer at the same time.

This was fortunately after rush hour, but cars arrived in fairly large packets. Most of them got the idea, but a few of them failed to notice my car was plainly stopped well short of the intersection with the flashers going – on a straightaway where it had to be clearly visible for at least a quarter mile.

I called my friend Kathy, of Steve and Kathy fame, one of our dinner bunch, whom I knew to be en route to India Palace. I was mostly calling to see if she knew how to get in touch with some of the other ASFS crew who might be able to help me push.

She pointed out it would be dangerous pushing the car on foot in that kind of traffic. But she said she could give me a push in her truck. Like Melinda Snodgrass, who was also there tonight with Ian Tregillis, Kathy’s a Tiny Woman With A Big Honkin’ Truck. If she was willing, I was definitely amenable.

So I sat and waited. Some of my ASFS peeps who happened by came through for me. First Becca Davis stopped to ask if I needed help, then Duke and Tanley McMullan. I waved them on with brief if heartfelt thanks.

Then Kathy came to the rescue. She pushed me into the turn lane and left onto Louisiana. I turned right onto a side street and parked.

And when I tried the engine again, it started.

Which, oddly, did not surprise me. By this time I had a strong suspicion what had befallen my poor car was the same problem that stalled me on the southbound freeway in rush hour traffic last year (that was just a barrel of fucking laughs, I promise you.) Heat had caused my fuel pump to vapor-lock. When it cooled off some the car would start again.

But I didn’t trust it not to crap out again. Last year after an hour or so (during which a handy Highway Helper truck had materialized to kindly give me a push off the damn highway and into the parking lot of a closed office complex)  the car had cooled off enough to start and stay running long enough to get me safely home. This time I left it to sit while I piled in with Kathy and Dawn Barela to ride to India Palace.

After that, I must admit, things got Much Better. Dr. Larry Crumpler gave a most interesting presentation. To help justify our monopolizing the restaurant’s back room I had an ice tea and Kashmiri Naan, Indian flat bread filled with a paste of cashes, pistachios, cherries, and raisins. Which was tasty. And after the slidshow was done many of us adjourned across the parking lot to Berry Ocean, a gelato place that makes a lot of its own interesting flavors. Like rosemary. I didn’t have any because I was full.

Various people were kind enough to offer me rides. I stuck with Kathy, who delivered me to my car. She considerately waited to make sure it would both start and run, then followed me as far as the turn to her and Steve’s house – about halfway to my house, since I live 3-4 miles straight down Comanche, which for reasons unknown turns into Griegos in my neighborhood, from them.

Now the storm which was producing lightning away off over the Manzanos to the southeast is growing near. A cool wind blows, refreshing after the high-nineties days we’ve been, uh, enjoying. I dare hope that the promise of rain the National Weather Service has been teasing us with day after day may soon be fulfilled. Which my plants will love perhaps more than I.

There’s more to tell of recent events. Frankly I’m surprised I was able to get out this much. Now I am dog tired. Iditarod. Sled dog. Tired.

And so to bed, and so to bed. I’ll try to update more Saturday.