My nephews are now capable of screwing the top off of my Nalgene bottle. Ender can also close it again. They have moved up from "Crow" to "Octopus". I chart their development by comparing their capabilities to other animals. Since Ender can also close the bottle, he gets a bonus point moving him up to "Polite Octopus", which I imagine exist somewhere.

There is also the Rude Octopus who simultaneously smokes seven cigarettes and flips people of with the eighth.

In gelato news, I journeyed to the reputed best gelato shoppe in the state, goes by the name of Arlecchino. In English, our state language, it means "Harlequin", which is what I assume it will be re-named once that English-only law we voted in goes into effect. Sorry, Italian, but you sound too much like Spanish. French, oh you know you've never been welcome. Is that all the Romance languages? Hmm, better get rid of that Braille as well. It claims to be in English but who knows, right? I never did trust anybody who couldn't look in my functioning eyes.

The gelato was excellent. I even ran into my friend Juwig and his wife, who I never met before. She seemed nice, and she and I both were eating the same flavor so I knew she had sound judgment.

Juwig expressed surprise that I drove so far from home for gelato. I often forget about the price of fuel, and that people are usually bored driving long distances. I haven't had to buy gas in almost two weeks, and I seldom get bored on my motorcycle.

Heh, this gelato trip had been particularly exciting since I wasn't sure when the place closed and might have gone a little faster than I needed to on a stretch of freeway where police don't seem to venture.

In Phoenix we have odd chunks of freeway that are placed haphazardly about that become extremely popular twice a day but have little traffic otherwise. Which is convenient if one wishes to haphazardly exceed 100 mph in search of sweet, sweet, gelato.

I also let a family share my parking space. Parking was limited in the little plaza, and I was happy to share. I hate taking up more space than I need, ever since reading The Little Prince.

They were very gracious. It's little things like this that help fight the trouble-making stigma of riding a motorcycle.

On a related note, I have figured out how to make stop-sticks. Those things are expensive; about 60 bucks or so. Four dollars spent at the hardware store and a few blood-blisters from the damn needle-nose pliers and I have even better ones. And these are made with chain, so they are much more portable. I have individual ones to use as chaff if enemy spies are in pursuit. Once I figure out the wiring on the button that releases the oil-slicks I will be unstoppable.

Unless someone jams a stick in my spokes. That'll take me down pretty quick.