Loud Mouth

Hello World, Happy August! It certainly seems as if the year just continues charging along, like some hapless commuter chasing after a train about to pull out of the station, and the axiom that time and tide (and trains) wait for no man is ever more keenly felt with each passing day. It seems like I was just getting ready for vacation, and yet here we are now, practically in the middle of August already, and no signs of slowing down, not by any means. For anyone who thinks that there's plenty of summer left, with all of the Dog Days still ahead of us, and lots more time to enjoy the joys of the season, with lemonade and watermelon to spare - well, have I got some very unwelcome news for you. It was on August 9th that the NFL was actually playing football on television, and apparently without irony, in spite of the fact that the fall pennant races in baseball hadn't even started yet. (This would probably go a long way toward explaining about the legendary gridiron great, Frank Gifford, breathing his last over the weekend, muttering something about 90 degrees out and who in their right mind would be playing football at a time like this, but frankly I have no independent corroboration of this, so it might be totally unrelated after all.) In any event, please consider this fair warning that I have sounded the tocsin and thrown down the gauntlet, and if you have any more summertime delights to indulge in, you'd better plan to kick it into a higher gear and get to it while the getting is good. Speaking of time out of mind, we had some visitors at church who were taking in the many fine qualities of the building, and asked when it was built. The cornerstone by the front door clearly says 1909, so there's no sense in prevaricating on that point, try as we might, although I don't mind saying that it's holding up a lot better at 106 years old than I would, and that's a plain fact. Of course, there's much that has been renovated, replaced, or modernized since those early days, with actual electricity, indoor plumbing, telephones, and even - gasp! - gluten-free communion wafers being the norm rather than the exception around the old ecclesiastical stomping grounds, as it were. Now that doesn't mean that absolutely everything is up-to-date, as I happened to notice when I was helping to pack away some electronic equipment after the worship service, and was very surprised to discover that our projector cart was very flagrantly emblazoned with Montgomery Ward's name on every side, so that tells you something right there. (Well, as our old friends the dinosaurs are quick to point out, for people "of a certain age," it tells you something right there, but it's certainly a reference of a bygone era that is lost on young folks nowadays, and there's just no way around it.) Considering that the affectionately known "Monkey Ward" essentially went out of business in 1988, and this particular cart is still puttering around church since then, well, I think we can all agree that extra points are in order for its spirit of endurance, and longevity in the face of obstacles. In fact, it's been at the church even longer than I have, and I hate to admit it, but certainly complains a whole lot less, I can tell you that. And while we're on the subject of complaints, I was out and about last week, driving around here and there, and found myself stopped at a traffic light next to a parked car that seemed very interesting looking, compared to the average run-of-the-mill automobile out there these days. It's true that it was plain silver in color, but it had a more distinctive shape than the routine sedan you see everywhere, and it made me curious about what it could be. I had some time on my hands at the red light, so I leaned over to check it out, and try to spot its name or brand somewhere on the body, and since I was right next to it, I figured it would be (as they used to say in the old days) a lead pipe cinch. Not so fast! Inasmuch as it was wearing a bra and a diaper at the time (not to mention, at the same time, mind you) there was no way to uncover any identifying symbols about its background or trademark, which had apparently all been obliterated by its over-dressed paraphernalia. So that's a mystery which might never be solved, or what I would describe as a classic case of defeating the purpose, where you simultaneously call attention to something, while hiding all clues about it, thanks not. And speaking of cars, my very own Chevy Aveo, which is about as unassuming and circumspect as you can get in a screaming red car, has somehow recently developed a sort of throaty rumble, usually reserved for expensive sports cars, or ancient jalopies with busted mufflers. (And as our old friends the dinosaurs are happy to divulge - in fact, "giddy" might be the better word under the circumstances - don't forget that I started driving in the age of muscle cars, where rugged Trans Am's and GTO's sported hefty 454 cubic inch V8 engines that could be heard from blocks away, even standing still.) Nowadays, modern cars are so quiet that you can't hear them running when you're standing right next to them, and my Chevy is no exception, so when it started making this odd rattling sound, it was much more noticeable than it would have been on an older, noisier car from years gone by. Of course, anyone who knows me can tell you that I was born and raised in a genuine Mr. Goodwrench family, and my father was a legend among mechanics, working on General Motors cars all of his life - so it goes without saying that I know exactly what to do in this type of situation. Whenever I have a car that makes a funny noise, I simply turn the radio louder. Also on the topic of being over-dressed, I admit that I was pulled up short by this caption under a picture-perfect pooch posted on Facebook: ============================= Here is beautiful Petunia modeling her new neckless ============================= No, Petunia pooch was not neckless, in fact, according to the picture, her neck was perfectly fine, and right where it was supposed to be. She was also adorned with a very decorative necklace, which one presumes is what the caption was referring to, rather than neckless, which utterly failed to make any sense under the circumstances. Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry. I don't mind saying that between cars and dogs, any normal person would think that was all to be reported on the over-dressed front, but not so! It reminded me of my vacation, and on the Friday before I left, the park was awash with hundreds of new campers, so that there were practically no campsites left open, where the days before the whole place had been pretty much deserted from one end to the other. When I came back up from the beach Friday afternoon, I passed a site on the corner of D Section, across from the Registration Building, and right on the outside circle, so it was just about impossible to miss. Because the site was on a corner, there was a section sign at the site, which the campers there had taken the opportunity to decorate with a giant plastic snowman that they had brought from home, and they topped that off with a wildly colored beach umbrella to go with it. It certainly got my attention as I was going by, and I thought it was cute, and a decidedly jaunty addition to the usual campground accoutrements, I dare say. But it made me think that you really have to want to bring a giant plastic snowman camping with you, on top of everything else that you really need for camping essentials, just to make a fashion statement, however welcome it might be, among your campground compatriots. Personally, I pack two cars full of necessities to survive a week in the wilds, and I couldn't stuff a plastic snowman in there if I tried - and don't forget, I carry a spare tent with me, just in case. I suppose I could strap it down to the roof and hope for the best, but at that point, I'd probably have to turn up the radio so loud that it would blow the speakers right out, I shouldn't wonder. Elle