Farm Aid
Hello World,
Happy October! We find ourselves at last in the month of goblins and jack-o'-lanterns, and not a moment too soon, because the weather this week has definitely been what the poets would describe by saying that the frost is on the pumpkin, and they wouldn't be far off the mark. It's almost like someone flipped a switch, starting on the first day of Autumn, and suddenly the perfect fall weather just showed up, right on schedule. If only that same someone had done the same thing for the first day of Spring, it could have saved all of us a lot of suffering for three months, heaven knows. The newspapers are awash with notices of fall fairs, harvest festivals and apple picking, going on right now in every county of the state, celebrating Nature's bounty with fun for the whole family. There's everything to like about these crisp clear days and refreshingly brisk nights, and we'd better get out there and enjoy them while we can, because eventually our old nemesis Comrade Mischka is going to get back from the awards ceremony, and it will be back to the Weather of Mass Destruction that we have all come to know and loathe.
Speaking of loathing, a couple of weeks ago I finally broke down and got gas, even though it was priced at some outrageous amount that would have made people in 1973 jump out of their skin, and then their skeleton would ride a bicycle to work rather than pay it. I remember thinking at the time that gas prices would probably come down after that, so I was surprised the next day, when it was still the same. In fact, it took two more days, but the price finally dropped 5c a gallon at all once. The week after, it dropped another 7c a gallon, and today when I went past the gas station, it had crept down another two cents. Obviously, there's only one thing to say at a time like that, so I may as well say it: "You're welcome."
It's been a while since we checked in with Walk Group, and alert readers might be wondering what's going on with the dashing ladies in their race for better health. Alas, the large group that started bright with promise in June, dwindled down to a measly few by July, so that when I came back from vacation, I was lucky to find 2 or 3 other people to go with, rather than the 12-15 we started with. Then even those people went on vacation, and suddenly it was just the group leader, Marathon Margie, and me going out together three days a week. On the days when Margie would be at a different facility, I was on what I would describe as "solo Walk Group" all by myself, which gave me a lot of freedom in terms of time, speed and route, but was as boring as it could possibly be. I was determined to stick with it, because I found it really did improve my stamina, but there was certainly nothing interesting that could be said about stamping for miles around town with only myself for company. Then in September, even Margie went on vacation, and suddenly, I was all that Walk Group had to keep the vision alive, and I picked up the mantle and carried it five days a week, no matter what and no excuses. The weeks came and went, and she didn't come back, which made me wonder. But in an odd twist, this week I bumped into three hold-overs from the original group in June, and found that they were starting into walking again, but at a different time on a different route, so I decided to throw my lot in with them, as the new modified Walk Group. They hadn't walked in three months, and it really showed, because these same ladies that I used to have to trot to keep up with, now couldn't begin to keep up with me, and I could have easily left them behind without trying. I slowed down and stayed with them to be sociable, which was more interesting than walking by myself, but not much of a workout, especially when they took a shortcut back and called it quits, leaving me to make up the last half-mile on my own. I tried to be encouraging and supportive, to help them get back into the good fitness habit once again, but the next day, they all begged off, and it was back to "solo Walk Group" for me. This time, the joke was on them, because when I was barreling down Union Avenue as usual, I was surprised to bump right into a mariachi band milling around on the sidewalk, in full regalia of black velvet suits with white braided trim and fancy sombreros with pom-poms along the brim. They could see that I meant business, so they moved out of my way, and I don't know which of us was more surprised, because that was certainly a first for me on Walk Group, and that's not just a lot of Mexican hat dancing, believe me.
A few weeks ago, I hurt my heel, possibly from pounding out the miles around town with Walk Group, and it's been bothering me ever since, although I've been trying my best to ignore it. Bill got me heel cushions for my shoes, and they really help make the pain more bearable, since I have to be on my feet anyway, Recently a couple of co-workers noticed me limping in the hallway and asked what was wrong, but I explained to them that it was nothing more than a shameless ploy on the part of my foot to arouse sympathy, and they should please pay it no mind, because otherwise, it just encourages it, and I was hoping to avoid that. The best that they could muster in the face of that incomprehensible onslaught was a feeble, "Oh," as I limped off and left them standing there and shaking their heads, and no wonder.
It must be said that FaceBook is not for everyone, however, for people with a lot of time on their hands, it can be highly entertaining. Besides communicating with people you know (or even total strangers) in a variety of ways, they provide a wide array of games, contests, trivia and all sorts of interesting applications to while away the time with, from morning until, well, back to the morning again, and I ought to know. There are target games, word games, matching games, speed games, and games that literally defy description, and believe me, I've tried. You can take a survey, take a poll, take a quiz, or try your luck with their optical illusions or riddles. You're welcome to start your own Zoo, and the sponsors will donate money for the protection of endangered wildlife, or grow your own Li'l Green Patch, with money going to save the rainforests. Or you can simply move in and take up residence, living vicariously through your animated character in Sorority Life, FarmVille, Restaurant Life, Fashionista, Robin Hood, or keepin' it real in the 'hoods of YoVille with the home boys. It would surprise anyone who knows me that I actually have two farms, each one more pathetic than the other, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that in my case at least, it was a good thing that the Industrial Revolution came along when it did. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a farmer, and I find that I am routinely plowing under crops that have all died off from neglect since the last time I was at the farm. In fact, it's only because other farmers give me gifts, or I wouldn't even have a tree to call my own, much less fences and hay bales. I don't dare get any farm animals, because I think we can all see the handwriting on the wall there, although without any fences, I suppose the animals could just wander off and find a better home on their own. One reason that I don't spend enough time down on the farm is because I'm also in two mobs, and although I'm only a low-level street thug, I've been doing pretty well for myself after embarking on a life of virtual crime. One of my thugs owns a bar, gas station, convenience store and warehouse, while the other one has sizable cash assets, plus an inventory of weapons ranging in variety from a broken bottle and brass knuckles all the way up to automatic weapons and attack dog. Here again, other mobsters can send me gifts, which is sort of like me being a third-world country, and they are the criminal equivalent of UNICEF or something. The scary part is that I'm a much better street thug than a farmer, which I personally find a discouraging prospect for anyone living in the land of amber waves of grain with purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain, by golly. But I offer this information for the benefit of the President's financial advisors, in their quest to provide economic stimulus funds where they will have the most impact, because I can tell them from experience that organized crime is doing a lot better than agriculture, so when it comes to handing out government subsidies, it might be time for them to face the music and change their tune. Say, who let that mariachi band in here?
Elle
Happy October! We find ourselves at last in the month of goblins and jack-o'-lanterns, and not a moment too soon, because the weather this week has definitely been what the poets would describe by saying that the frost is on the pumpkin, and they wouldn't be far off the mark. It's almost like someone flipped a switch, starting on the first day of Autumn, and suddenly the perfect fall weather just showed up, right on schedule. If only that same someone had done the same thing for the first day of Spring, it could have saved all of us a lot of suffering for three months, heaven knows. The newspapers are awash with notices of fall fairs, harvest festivals and apple picking, going on right now in every county of the state, celebrating Nature's bounty with fun for the whole family. There's everything to like about these crisp clear days and refreshingly brisk nights, and we'd better get out there and enjoy them while we can, because eventually our old nemesis Comrade Mischka is going to get back from the awards ceremony, and it will be back to the Weather of Mass Destruction that we have all come to know and loathe.
Speaking of loathing, a couple of weeks ago I finally broke down and got gas, even though it was priced at some outrageous amount that would have made people in 1973 jump out of their skin, and then their skeleton would ride a bicycle to work rather than pay it. I remember thinking at the time that gas prices would probably come down after that, so I was surprised the next day, when it was still the same. In fact, it took two more days, but the price finally dropped 5c a gallon at all once. The week after, it dropped another 7c a gallon, and today when I went past the gas station, it had crept down another two cents. Obviously, there's only one thing to say at a time like that, so I may as well say it: "You're welcome."
It's been a while since we checked in with Walk Group, and alert readers might be wondering what's going on with the dashing ladies in their race for better health. Alas, the large group that started bright with promise in June, dwindled down to a measly few by July, so that when I came back from vacation, I was lucky to find 2 or 3 other people to go with, rather than the 12-15 we started with. Then even those people went on vacation, and suddenly it was just the group leader, Marathon Margie, and me going out together three days a week. On the days when Margie would be at a different facility, I was on what I would describe as "solo Walk Group" all by myself, which gave me a lot of freedom in terms of time, speed and route, but was as boring as it could possibly be. I was determined to stick with it, because I found it really did improve my stamina, but there was certainly nothing interesting that could be said about stamping for miles around town with only myself for company. Then in September, even Margie went on vacation, and suddenly, I was all that Walk Group had to keep the vision alive, and I picked up the mantle and carried it five days a week, no matter what and no excuses. The weeks came and went, and she didn't come back, which made me wonder. But in an odd twist, this week I bumped into three hold-overs from the original group in June, and found that they were starting into walking again, but at a different time on a different route, so I decided to throw my lot in with them, as the new modified Walk Group. They hadn't walked in three months, and it really showed, because these same ladies that I used to have to trot to keep up with, now couldn't begin to keep up with me, and I could have easily left them behind without trying. I slowed down and stayed with them to be sociable, which was more interesting than walking by myself, but not much of a workout, especially when they took a shortcut back and called it quits, leaving me to make up the last half-mile on my own. I tried to be encouraging and supportive, to help them get back into the good fitness habit once again, but the next day, they all begged off, and it was back to "solo Walk Group" for me. This time, the joke was on them, because when I was barreling down Union Avenue as usual, I was surprised to bump right into a mariachi band milling around on the sidewalk, in full regalia of black velvet suits with white braided trim and fancy sombreros with pom-poms along the brim. They could see that I meant business, so they moved out of my way, and I don't know which of us was more surprised, because that was certainly a first for me on Walk Group, and that's not just a lot of Mexican hat dancing, believe me.
A few weeks ago, I hurt my heel, possibly from pounding out the miles around town with Walk Group, and it's been bothering me ever since, although I've been trying my best to ignore it. Bill got me heel cushions for my shoes, and they really help make the pain more bearable, since I have to be on my feet anyway, Recently a couple of co-workers noticed me limping in the hallway and asked what was wrong, but I explained to them that it was nothing more than a shameless ploy on the part of my foot to arouse sympathy, and they should please pay it no mind, because otherwise, it just encourages it, and I was hoping to avoid that. The best that they could muster in the face of that incomprehensible onslaught was a feeble, "Oh," as I limped off and left them standing there and shaking their heads, and no wonder.
It must be said that FaceBook is not for everyone, however, for people with a lot of time on their hands, it can be highly entertaining. Besides communicating with people you know (or even total strangers) in a variety of ways, they provide a wide array of games, contests, trivia and all sorts of interesting applications to while away the time with, from morning until, well, back to the morning again, and I ought to know. There are target games, word games, matching games, speed games, and games that literally defy description, and believe me, I've tried. You can take a survey, take a poll, take a quiz, or try your luck with their optical illusions or riddles. You're welcome to start your own Zoo, and the sponsors will donate money for the protection of endangered wildlife, or grow your own Li'l Green Patch, with money going to save the rainforests. Or you can simply move in and take up residence, living vicariously through your animated character in Sorority Life, FarmVille, Restaurant Life, Fashionista, Robin Hood, or keepin' it real in the 'hoods of YoVille with the home boys. It would surprise anyone who knows me that I actually have two farms, each one more pathetic than the other, and it would not be an exaggeration to say that in my case at least, it was a good thing that the Industrial Revolution came along when it did. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a farmer, and I find that I am routinely plowing under crops that have all died off from neglect since the last time I was at the farm. In fact, it's only because other farmers give me gifts, or I wouldn't even have a tree to call my own, much less fences and hay bales. I don't dare get any farm animals, because I think we can all see the handwriting on the wall there, although without any fences, I suppose the animals could just wander off and find a better home on their own. One reason that I don't spend enough time down on the farm is because I'm also in two mobs, and although I'm only a low-level street thug, I've been doing pretty well for myself after embarking on a life of virtual crime. One of my thugs owns a bar, gas station, convenience store and warehouse, while the other one has sizable cash assets, plus an inventory of weapons ranging in variety from a broken bottle and brass knuckles all the way up to automatic weapons and attack dog. Here again, other mobsters can send me gifts, which is sort of like me being a third-world country, and they are the criminal equivalent of UNICEF or something. The scary part is that I'm a much better street thug than a farmer, which I personally find a discouraging prospect for anyone living in the land of amber waves of grain with purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain, by golly. But I offer this information for the benefit of the President's financial advisors, in their quest to provide economic stimulus funds where they will have the most impact, because I can tell them from experience that organized crime is doing a lot better than agriculture, so when it comes to handing out government subsidies, it might be time for them to face the music and change their tune. Say, who let that mariachi band in here?
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:37 PM
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