Looks like I got comments working again. Should you still see something amiss (I doubt it but...) please let me know. The problem was that our hosting company switched IP numbers (in fact they switched their whole IP scheme - everybody they host was affected) so I had to reflect that change in some lines of code in the comment program. My fault in a way though. They sent out notices through email but the only address they had for me was my old one at SE Blueprint so naturally I never got notified. Dumb.
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No cable or DSL. Sixy bucks per month too much on top of cell phone and fuel prices. But you can use my dial up if you want, Russ.
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Oh no. Not again. Shit.
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Hmm. It seems that the comment utility has gone belly up. Any comment?
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Remember Amy Winfrey who spawned Muffin Films and Big Bunny? She is also responsible for the Traffic Cone Preservation Society (TCPS). The Links page at the TCPS connects to the website of Australian Cone Legend "Ned Coney", the bushranging outlaw cone who was finally brought to justice by Trooper Shamus O'Rourke of the Cone Outlaw Prevention Squad (C.O.P.S). Also view the Field Guide to Cones where the taxonomy, habits and range of each species is detailed.
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Yesterday evening I was shocked and saddened to learn that Chris Buchanan passed away unexpectedly the night before. His obituary is in todays Chronicle but not yet on their website. Chris was the husband of Edye (Ray Stewart's ex-wife) and step-father to Ray and Edye's son Steve. I've known Chris since the early 80's when we were part of a social group (the Loungers) who hung at Ely's Inn. The unexpectedness of his passing makes it hit especially hard. So many many memories.
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It has been a year since Linda died. I went to the Cemetary and recalled the service. The mimister spoke at graveside last year, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of life and nature, wind and water, moving all around us. It is still so. The voices of humankind were stilled to a whisper and the currents of life continued to eddy around me as I walked among trees, next to water, under sunshine. We are joined together by experience, by memory, by love.
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A week ago last Sunday, Betsy and I were riding in Loudenville, Southbound on Route 60. Approaching the intersection of Route 3, the light switched to yellow and I clutched and braked to slow to a stop. I heard the sound of a tire skidding and looked around me for a large pickup truck pointing at me and either speeding up or skidding down through the intersection. Nothing. Next glance, in my rear view mirror, I saw Betsy's bike sliding on its side and the mirror flying off. Shut off my bike, popped it on the side stand and ran back to find Betsy lying on the grass along side the road. In pain, but aware and responsive. Cell phone 911. Told her, "I love you to pieces, but this is not how I meant." Ambulance and police arrive within minutes. To Ashland Hospital 16 miles North. Xrays, no breaks. Five stitches in right elbow. Wrenched right knee and shoulder. No concussion or other trauma. We were both covered, head to foot, in helmet, heavy Cordura jackets, gloves, denim, and leather boots. Bike is uglier than it was (broken windshield, trashed mirror, scrapes and scratches, dent in tank), but fully functional and rideable. In fact, I scrambled the bikers' assistance network of Lorain County (n'eer-do-well bunch I have been riding with for 30 years) and we drove both bikes back while Betsy rode in the car following.
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