You must see the Bellagio fountains

The morning dawned in a thick white haze that gradually was wiped away like a bartender wiping the froth off the top of a mug of stout. In the distance the frothy cloud hung in the valley below, and with a building buzz and then quick roar a Cessna Skyhawk clawed its way up into the bright sunlight overhead – and just as quickly faded into the distance.
I changed-out an ugly old light in the laundry room for a spiffy one, and we went to lunch.
Later: Say, is my wife out watering the plants or what is that fountain in the front junipers? One jet shot UP about eight feet and the other one shout OUT about six feet. Leaks and frost-damage may abound, so I went into the Lower Redoubt to assess the situation on the automatic watering system. Good, there is an OFF button. Given the wet soaking sponge that we just emerged-from, further watering is unnecessary, perhaps until Spring. The splits and breakages in that quadrant-line will have to wait for my own convenience.


About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

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