Today's the Day

Our country is in competent hands. That doesn't mean everyone's happy about that. There was a vote today to provide consumer protection regarding investments. The conservaives were against it. I try to see their point of view. They're afraid the rules will hobble entereprise. They needn't fear. The Enterprisers will find ways around the rule, through loopholes we did not foresee. The Conservatives want to preserve their ability to make money. The Libs want to spread it around: a little bit of a lot is still a lot for each. The Conservatives want to have it all. They say they earned it so keep off. Can't blame 'em for thinking that way. But the better brighter way is to share, imho. My question is: are the Cs the creators of all wealth? That is a good question. They take risks so should they not have the rewards when thinhgs go well? Many Conservatives are in the poor house. Where does the wealth of this country come from? China? Oh, our very good friends in China. Let us work together. You make, we buy.
And yet we're still the #1 manufacturing country in the world. What do we make? Not sieves or anything else in the store. I think Obama needs to expalin that more.

Tippy

I aquired my penchant for tipping back in my chair on my father's ship. The galley had a dozen captain's chairs along the walls. I liked the aft wall best because tipping back here complemented the natural slope of the deck.
I'm not comfortable in a chair unless I'm tilted back a few inches. However women are not comfortable seeing me tip back in their chairs. They pretend they're worried I'll get hurt, but really they think I'm hurting the chair which is nonsense. I'll obey their request, finish my tea as quickly as possible, then I'm out of there.

Hairy Situation

I like to take my daily shower in the little bathroom upstairs. There's not much traffic up there; it's a world unto itself. I used to find it a relaxing place until I started to notice a strip of hair along the baseboard between the sink and the door. Where the heck was this coming come from? We have no animals and only the occasional guest. It made me nervous. I once read that all the dust in the world is left over from the Big Bang. I found this fact comforting and decided it was futile to fight against something so stupendous and something that happened way before my time. Just enjoy life as best you can I told myself. Don't make yourself crazy. So could I blame this hair in the bathroom on the Big Bang as well? One afternoon as I pondered this while toweling myself down I noticed one of my own hairs drift to the floor. Hmmmm. Could it be? Me? Just in case, I now rake up the hair when it reaches a depth of one inch and deposit in the trash can that has always been there. This hair is transported to a landfill in the next county not to be seen again in this lifetime.

All Bull All The Time

Most residents at Greenbush Manor have TVs. There is free cable, one of the perks of our facility. One resident wanted an extra channel that covers farm news and views. The maintenance man had to hook up a special antenna just for this channel. As I walk past this resident's room in the afternoons, I hear the drone of an auctioneer. There's something enticing about his spiel, like that of a carney barker, and I sometimes wander in to watch. On the screen there will be a bull trotting around a large corral. The bull always looks too small, but 700 lbs is the weight they sell them at. It takes just a couple of minutes to sell a bull. They start the bidding close to what they want and it quickly escalates to what they're going to get. There's no "going once...going twice." The auctioneer is no more than deep, rapid voice swallowing air. The bull is oblivious. He explores his corral. Back and forth he goes, rarely standing still. I thought we were seeing the bull in real time, but then noticed him looking through the bars at the same crony in the next pen, or examining the same lump of manure in a repeating loop. I realized the bulls are filmed earlier and shown during the auction. The seller can reject a bid he thinks too low; we are not privy to those dealings. There's a phone number in the corner, but all the buyers have had to register and have their accounts pre-approved. The buyer receives a 2% discount for the contents of the bull's stomach which will be gone by the time his truck arrives. For the next few years the bull will stay busy breeding cows, but once his ardor flags, he will return to a pen like this for a final scene like that of a victim in a horror movie. That will go unrecorded.

Fifty-two Pickup

The depression after '29
Was like a deck of cards
Blown around the porch.

This time the house of cards
Is tumbling all around us.

Win This Mug

We are building a combination storage shed/guest cottage which Teresa calls a shêdeau. Over the years we've collected duplicate sets of dishware, cutlery, pots and pans in case our kids needed help setting up their own place. They never needed that kind of help. Which is good because now we'll be able to furnish the new kitchen. Our stock is especially rich in mugs. Whenever someone wants to remember us with a small gift, we get a mug. Who needs a mug? A mug is a personal thing. I've been using the same mug my brother gave me 30 years ago. It looks like a US Navy mug except that it has a couple of non-reg green rings top and bottom. The average home needs six mugs max, but the things keep drifting in from well meaning friends. Nothing could be easier for someone who owes us a remembrance than picking up a mug at the museum gift shop with van Gogh's mug on it. But we don't need it, don't want it, and usually send it off to Goodwill. The last mug we received (Christmas is a bad time for mug fever) was a nice enough mug. It sports a pine woods motif. The handle, rim, and base look like branches. It has a pine cone and needles painted on each side and though surprisingly light,it will hold a supersized spot of coffee. And it is made in China, of course. I was about to bundle it off to ThriftWorld but Teresa suggested we use it in the shêdeau. I had to agree the mug would look good out there under the spruce boughs, so I set it behind the dishrack at home and wondered what would be the earliest day a piece of crockery like this would be safe out there. I thought a little betting pool would be fun. Please, readers, be the first to pick a date you think the mug can safely be transported to the new kitchen. Teresa is not in on this. She never reads my blog. So the day Teresa hauls the mug to the shed will determine the winning date. Name your date in the comments section. The winner will receive a mug. Not the pine cone mug, but all the mugs I receive between now and the winning date shall be yours!
One guess per URL, please.