I’m just guessing, using many context clues, that those posted membership rates could be negotiable.
(I used to have a job that was awful for many, many reasons. One of the reasons was the sexist boss, who would take the male employees out golfing on a routine basis. The women? Nope. We never got invited. My work friend and I decided to address the issue by taking golf lessons, talking about it all the time at work, and acting as though we actually liked golf. We thought that might shift the balance a little bit. It did, too, only not quite the way we’d anticipated: she got transferred out of state and I got fired. But anyway, along about that same time, my son and I played at this little course several times. My son is hilarious and so our golf games were…uh…unorthodox. And we had a hell of a good time, more fun that was ever possible if I’d to play with that sexist boss and his enablers. So things worked out.) (Also, right after I got fired from that job – which I didn’t even like – I landed my current job, which is the best job I’ve ever had. So, again, things worked out.)
I have only recently noticed a repository of dead cars (mostly VWs) on the highway near my house. There is very strong evidence to suggest that it’s been there for a while – a long while – so I am not sure what it took until lately for me to see it.
But the camera and I got there as fast as we could, and we found these portals.
Lubbock County, Texas
I’ve written about this before, about the mysterious things just get left behind when a business closes or moves away. This one looks like no one there knew it was the last time – the centerpieces moved off the tables for cleaning, the spray bottle down there on the bar, someone’s COVID mask left behind.
It feels like the last two people there said, “Yeah. That’s enough for today – we’ll come back on Saturday to finish up.” Only….
Lubbock County, Texas
“Good God, woman, GET INSIDE.” -what my friend Don told me he thought to himself when I sent him this photo.
This end-of-the-world-looking cloud was right above my house and the rotation (a sign that maybe there’s a tornado) was clearly apparent. I’ve lived in tornado-prone areas for almost my whole life and this…this was scary.
There wasn’t a tornado, though, and my neighborhood didn’t even get too much rain. And also, I did go inside after I made this photo.
The title is from – you may know what I am going to say here – a Bruce Cockburn song, “Boundless.”