Daily Double

Hello World, Well, if we've made it to Saturday, we've managed to get past our one and only Friday the 13th for 2016, so at least we can put that behind us and not worry about superstition dogging our heels for the rest of the year, and thanks ever so. Well, perhaps not so much for the truck hauling scrap metal across the Tappan Zee Bridge on Friday morning, which overturned when the rear axle broke off, spewing debris along the middle of the span - and not to mention, all of the harried commuters stuck behind it on the bridge for over 5 hours while maintenance crews worked feverishly to clean it up. Here I'm thinking that their opinion of the hypothetical Friday the 13th superstition probably hit a brand new low as a result of the incident, and I wouldn't be surprised if they all stayed home from work the next time it rolls around in January 2017. No sense tempting fate a second time with that, I always say, and that goes double for the scrap metal, by golly. After all, the last thing anyone needs is a double dose of double trouble, which is a double whammy that I'm sure we can all live without, and not even on a double dare. In fact, I'm double sure of it. Speaking of a multiplication of eventful days, last Thursday, the Feast of the Ascension, the rollicking Cinco de Mayo, and the National Day of Prayer all happened on the exact same day, which is almost a sort of "triple double," or it probably would be, according to The New Math, anyway. We had a lovely service at church on Thursday, with attendance in the double figures, which is always a big deal for us on any occasion. (Of course, we usually have to count the minister and organist in the total as well, and let's face it, they get paid to be there, after all.) Cinco de Mayo was its usual happy-go-lucky self, with the anti-Bonaparte contingent full of beans, and no lack of tequila to let the good times keep on rolling. On the other hand, I'm sure the National Day of Prayer was extremely earnest and idealistic, although I've yet to notice it having any effect on the sorry state of the world in general, in spite of their best intentions. Probably not enough tequila. On a different double bill, we had the historic Kentucky Derby and Mothers Day on the same weekend, or you might say, a little something for everyone, depending on your tastes. The Derby featured the undefeated Nyquist (named after hockey player Gustav Nyquist of the Detroit Redwings) in a crowded field of 20 horses, before a packed house of 167,227 spectators. (Heck, you'd think that last person could have dragged in 3 of his or her cronies to make it an even 167,230 instead.) Nyquist was the hands-down favorite at post-time, and it's easy to say, won handily - although the second favorite, Exaggerator, made a valiant run down the stretch and almost caught up with the winner at the wire. Bill and I agreed that the bland field of 20 solid brown stallions was about the most boring that we can ever remember at Churchill Downs, without even any fillies or female jockeys to liven things up, and not to take anything away from Nyquist, but the race wasn't much better. The way things go nowadays, it should be interesting to see which of the 20 horses (besides Nyquist, obviously) head to Pimlico for the Preakness Stakes on May 21, in a bid for a chance at the Triple Crown, or if nothing else, in the role of spoiler instead. And speaking of spoiling, I sincerely hope that's what everyone out there in the wide world did for their favorite females last Sunday, whether moms, moms-to-be, pet moms, or just special ladies with mom-like qualities, that we couldn't live without, and besides which, who would want to? We had a quiet and relaxing day here, and even the cats behaved themselves for a change - possibly due to an excess of tequila from Cinco de Mayo that they were still sleeping off, I shouldn't wonder. Around here, we call that a "win-win," and I don't have to wait for the Preakness to know that. In other local news, the spirea have popped open along the rock wall in spectacular fashion, like a giant bridal bouquet putting the perfect finishing touch on an enormous wedding. (When they look outstanding, we proudly claim them as our very precious own, while conversely, when conditions make them look all ratty and bedraggled, we disown them without a second thought and say they're the neighbors' spirea instead.) The delightful azaleas have burst open in every color of the rainbow, while the burgeoning allium, cimicifuga, and rosebushes make you glad to be outside. And speaking of the great outdoors, it was on Monday night when several of us arrived at church for our monthly Council meeting, only to have one of our number inadvertently stray off the path, and summarily tumble down a small incline like the proverbial ton of bricks. It was no improvement to his dignity, I can tell you that, and even worse for his poor ankle, which took the brunt of the mishap, and necessitated a trip to the E.R. with full police car, ambulance, and fire truck escort. It turned out to be a very bad sprain, and certainly could have been a lot worse by the looks of it, so this is what we call being grateful for small favors. But we all agreed that it was a rather desperate excuse for getting out of a dumb church meeting, and one that I cannot wholeheartedly endorse in good conscience, even from the name-calling and chair-throwing bad old days of yore, and I ought to know. And also on the topic of dumb things, we have bad news for humor fans the world over from this tidbit in last week's USA TODAY: ===================================== ON THE FRONT BURNER: 'BOATY MCBOATFACE' NAME IS SUNK Boaty McBoatface had captured the public's fancy, but British officials said Friday the country's newest polar research vessel will be christened Sir David Attenborough, in honor of the prominent naturalist and broadcaster. But all is not lost for Boaty McBoatface fans who had voted in favor of the unusual name by an overwhelming margin. Science minister Jo Johnson said a submarine vessel that will support the crew and various research programs will be called Boaty McBoatface. The jokey suggestion Boaty McBoatface got 124,109 votes, more than three times its nearest rival. ======================================== Oh well, at the end of the day, I suppose that's all we can expect from a nation that thrives on warm beer and kippers, after all. Personally, I think David Attenborough should change his name to Boaty McBoatface, so they can call the ship Sir Boaty McBoatface instead. You heard it here first, folks. And finally, a true double threat that is capable of doing two things at once, we have an impressive full-page ad in our local TV listings for a remarkable gadget that was certainly news to me. It appears to be a regular telephone that provides amplification for people who have trouble hearing voices clearly through the handset. "But wait!" (as they always say on late-night commercials) "That's not all!" It also includes a display panel, where the incoming conversation is translated into printed captions, making it possible to read what is being said, as well as hearing it - and how cool is that! It uses a similar technology to the closed captioning on your television set, based on an online service that provides voice-to-text translations that it claims are "real-time, accurate, and readable." The captioning service is free, and it does not require the callers to have any special equipment on their side, for the system to work on your side. For a mere $75.00 (and as Bill is fond of pointing out, with more technology than was built into the original Mercury space capsule) I think it's not only brilliant but practical, and a more perfect use for all of this modern technology at our fingertips would be hard to find. Of course, it might also have the added benefit of inadvertent humor, if the captions turn out more like Mad Libs than the pin-point accuracy they might be aiming for - but hey, around here we call that sort of serendipitous bonus a lucky double play, and that's not just a lot of double talk, believe me. Elle