Thanks to Julie, Linda, Jessica, Brandy, Samantha, Sean, Travis and especially Leigh Anne C. at Lowe’s today.
We have a SunCast GS2500 to house our generator for the long-term, God forbid there should be another reason for an untimely power outage due to adverse weather conditions.
Labour issues go boing at buoying Boeing
Makin’ bacon ain’t for poor Maconites, anymore
Where do you go when you have nothing left to spend?
Three technology issues interrelated somehow:
In/on a world of inter/inner fighting/competing species/states of energy sits a creature looking for a buffet of insects readily available in trimmed lawns interconnected in a suburban landscape.
Kelli smiles.
She serves a few customers in Pizza Hut on a sunny Thursday morning at the edge of town.
A Sysco food delivery truck passes by.
The old National Guard armory and recruiting center sits empty.
Land cleared for a shopping centre when times were good and plans for moneymaking schemes flowed like fool’s good out of city fathers’ minds grows weeds without profit in mind for insects, birds and wildflower watchers.
The local university extension campus attracts those who hunger for knowledge and better job prospects.
A mansion holds its aristocratic head high.
Kelli perspires while the billionaire Olsen twins appear on TV as time-rewound youngsters “acting” in a studio to resemble life in a full house.
Government authorised murder takes place around the world, the leaders denying and in denial.
Hyphenated hyena housesitters host herbal henna hen hosemakers happily hopping hats hissing hissy fits, fittingly fxed.
Suddenly, the Bob Newhart Show comes to mind, reminding one that two generations of sitcoms and one generation of Internet/web sensation videos have slipped under the bridge since this writer attended the UT/ETSU Kingsport extension center.
Time to wish Kelli well and pick up a repaired Siemens hearing aid with one-year warranty for 200 buckeroos.
Cryptic sign du jour: SI-VN11.
What about Janet, who couldn’t sit for a moment waiting for a hairdo change ahead of me at Smart Cuts?
Her loss was my gain.
I sat with a cheerful young woman who scissored my follicle output down to a summer trim, serenading me about her future attempt at making a SpongeBob sheet cake for her four-year old daughter’s birthday (“I’ll use a melonball cutter to carve out the sponge holes. What colour should the holes be – darker or lighter than his body?”) and something about a dinosaur train show on the tellie.
Her ex-husband is still a good friend.
She wants to take an f…lobotomy…no, a phlebottomoose…well, a class on needles and blood in order to become an EMT. Her stylist coworker wants to finish her academic studies in nursing.
Later, observing drivers, passengers and automotive transport machines parade past while scribbling notes in a carpark between Riverside Avenue and Fairview Lane, I contemplated titling this “Road Closed to Thru Traffic- Bump Ahead” to honour road construction crews dealing with unruly, roadsign-ignoring drivers.
A nod to Sullivan County EMS – Paramedic Unit, Country Tyme Primitives, and the tie-wearing friendly employees of La Carreta #3 who will have Bohemia beer in the future for those who want what they want and don’t have to ask twice.
Thanks to Holly and Robert at Walmart, Linda H at Walgreens.
On a side note, interesting to watch my dyslexic typing, an indication that I can’t easily resubstitute family matters for central nervous system locations (including external clues) I normally use to feel the rhythm of the universe around me.
Dadgum, these here emotion-like neurochemical states of energy are a mess to deal with, sometimes.
A list of thanks to start the day: Sir Randall, Grainger County Keith and Charleston Zach at Express Oil Change; smiling Harvey the dedicated Rehab Tech, Justin, Lucy Barnett, Rachel Ellis, Tasha-Marie Olinger, Courtney Camper and all the other helpful people at Asbury Place; Medicare/Medicaid inspectors; Cherry Murray for her [cough, cough] rational/logical presentation of oil vs. nuclear industrial safety issues to a committee (the Committee will remember you well).
Lottery numbers for the day: 003KLY, 241RTS/Catch22.
How long do I ignore the obvious; that is, that credit rating agencies have stopped serving their purpose as objective rather than politically-motivated organisations beholden to a group of profit-mongering…
I apologise for that outburst. The Committee has reminded me that I can no longer claim to be a man of the people now that they have their clutches on me in the form of the NDA I signed to not be able to tell you more about the unexplainable.
They’ll release information proving I’m just as much a profit mongerer as the best/worst of them if I insist on the preletariat social program re/revolutionary reform movement line of reasoning.
But seriously, who’s watching the people who run the credit agencies and the perks they get in after-hour dinner parties, golfing holidays and casual lunges…err, I mean lunches at fancy restaurants?
Do people buy china in China?
My mother in-law learned to love her daughter in-law even though she almost didn’t bless her son’s engagement to a person without a college degree and/or a hefty dowry to offer (but who ended up being a good intellectual companion).
Now she faces a similar situation with her grandson, not wanting to attend a wedding for a marriage that in good conscience she cannot bless for the same reasons at this time, wondering about college potential, or academic/intellectual curiosity.
I’ve tried to assure her this is a normal social practice of the woman or man seeking to improve his/her social situation through the legal auspices of consensual cohabitation, often assuming a chemical/quantum formula called love.
We sit here – she is napping and I am watching the traffic jam of popular rehab personnel exercising the patients patiently up and down the hall.
Thanks to the City of Kingsport nonpotable water street cleaning crew.
Time to close. Family issues take priority over global economic management concerns. Time for a breathing treatment, lunch and rehab evaluation/summary with Rachel Ellis (goal: return to independent living, reached one occupational step at a time, helped by Jill and others).
“No patient or staff food to be kept in refrigerator. (please help keep our kitchen clean)” – sign on wall posted next to Coca-Cola dispensing machine.
Where the cost of living is low, one can afford to not worry about whether kitchen visitors can read.
Do we sing the songs that speak our thoughts or our emotions?
Should the labels “thought” and “emotion” represent separate concepts?
What is hidden inside a box labeled as a Douwe Egberts coffee dispensing machine?
What is taedium vitae?
Do you understand the effects of the profit motive on your actions?
You see, I find myself at the usual center of two lines of warriors: the defense budget cutters and the social services budget cutters.
If either side “wins,” I win and lose.
My household budget depends on both.
My investment portfolio will roll with the punches.
Newspapers tell me about a group or groups of people in Libya – “Help us!” they shout over the political maneuverings of the U.S. government of the people, by the people and for the people.
As a simple man, I ask myself who is the maker of the wooden basket full of snacks provided for hospital patient families.
A virtual horn of infinite plenty.
What is the difference between real artificial flavour and the “real taste” of its zero calorie equivalent?
Which is better, “original” or “new and improved,” and which one is better for me?
Just because you can pack more people into an arena doesn’t mean the product is any better, just that the owner(s) and investor(s) are spreading fixed costs across a larger portion of the population.
…where was I?…
…hmm…diverted by Kenny at the Rogersville PO (thanks for the U.S. Civil War and evergreen stamps, btw) for a trip to Eidson to get some Ronald Reagan stamps, purple heart stamps and golden ring stamps, breathing in the view from mountain top twisty roads…
Has Shirley Begley claimed a dog named Bella as a dependent on her 2010 taxes? Rita Richardson won’t say but she did share the story of a Japanese lady who made the origami gift of love hanging in the rural post office.
Was it Brenda who kindly brought the Ingraham clock?
Thanks to Peggy for the delicious boiled custard! I’m spoiled!
Thanks to Joe Price for stopping by.
There is, in conversation, a level of understanding, corresponding to our number of experiences, to which we adjust regularly, willingly or not.
Do you ever find yourself in the attic talking to the squirrels, raccoons, wasps, spiders or skinks that want to set up residence in your humble abode?
How many houses around the world have folding ladders you pull down so you climb into the unheated/uncooled space between roof and living quarters?
I don’t think of myself as a regional writer, although I primarily write from the first person viewpoint as if the writer’s output you read is from/about me.
The millions I’ve laundered through Mexico, the poppy fields I pay to have harvested in Afghanistan, the stock trades I make that never happen to get reported to any regulators or tax collectors – these may or may not be real or related to the person some call Rick.
My programmers, the best that stolen raw diamonds can buy, ensure the storyline here wanders from one end to the other of the universe, trying to stay within the confines of NAmE language rules.
Some days, they want to tell a story I do not approve and occasionally they get their stories told.
Only because I let them.
The donkey must get a bite of carrot every now and then to keep believing the whole vegetable is within reach.
The fortuneteller gives me advice that is mostly useful.
The Book of the Future flies open to pages I’ve never seen before.
The crystal ball gathers dust no matter how clean I keep the room or how often I change the whole house air filter.
People talk and I put their words to use here, both as a roman à clef (as opposed to Ramen noodle) trick and as an homage to the fascinating people I meet.
Standing in the attic, changing out an incandescent light bulb probably for the last time, I watched the reflective eyes of a baby raccoon stare at me uncertainly.
Certainly.
At my feet, old aquarium parts, a broken aquarium stand, many chewed-up cardboard boxes with Easter decorations spilled out into the loose-fill fiberglass insulation, and the Smith-Corona electric typewriter from my college days.
“Well, buddy, looks like it’s just you and me today,” I say in a condescending voice, like a father disappointed once again that his child has wandered past the imaginary fenceline between two backyards.
The raccoon moves further back into the uninsulated part of the attic where the roof meets the eave.
I put the burned-out light bulb in my pants pocket and walk closer to the raccoon.
“Any chance I can scare you out of here?”
The raccoon doesn’t move.
I roar as loud as I can.
The raccoon shrinks smaller.
I step closer.
The raccoon doesn’t move.
I am unable to crawl close enough to grab the raccoon.
But I am able to scare out a skink and stare straight at a spindly attic spider.
If only the raccoon would help out at this moment and create a funny, slapstick scene worth writing about.
You know, running and jumping onto my shoulders.
Or biting my outstretched hand.
Or a wasp sting me on my behind.
Instead, the raccoon looks at me like it doesn’t know if I’m the big daddy of raccoons that will eventually feed this hungry baby or I’m something which the baby should assume nothing kind will emanate from.
After all, this baby has limited experience interfacing with living beings. It probably chased a skink or two, played with its siblings (any that hadn’t wandered out of the attic and been eaten by the neighbourhood hawk or owls), and fed from its mother.
“What shall we do, little one?”
I get up off my hands and knees, standing in the peak of the attic.
I wonder if I could reink the typewriter ribbon.
Nope. It uses an ink cartridge.
“Well, you’re on your own until your parents get back. I’m not in the mood to stomp around. Don’t make any noise tonight so my wife won’t hear you and I’ll let you grow up with this warm, dry shelter for your resting place.”
I step around the crushed and broken Christmas ornaments, climb down and push the folding stairs back up into place.
The Smith-Corona can wait another day for a nostalgic attempt at typing college-age poetry. I suppose inkjet or laser printer paper will work just as well as the thin typewriter paper I used to buy at the offcampus bookstore in the early 1980s.
T-A-N-G-O, and tango was its name-oh! Thanks to Dana for giving my wife and me a new way to spin around the dance floor.
Thanks to Robert at Krystal for the latenight snack. Dr. April Ralph, I guess I need your professional opinion about my middle-aged back. Berkshire Hathaway made a wise decision, it appears – I congratulate any decision that clears the deck of questionable swabbies.
Eyes reflected in a wall of mirrors. What can I say?
A nod to Jim and Jennifer (nee Goodman) Kaplan (congrats on surviving your 16-year old daughter’s first prom!), Gary Clark, Helen Howie, Connie Vaughn, Governors Drive Cleaners/Laundry and Alterations, Triad Properties Corporation, ADS Corporation, Intergraph, David Young, Katie and her new hobby of golf, Adam and his fun on the Atari 2600, wedding caterers everywhere, harpists, florists, canoe makers, topiary growers, independent Ocoee River raft companies, mountain biker manufacturers, chair/tent rental companies, the Alabama legislature for preserving Forever Wild, Anne taking Maggie on her first college visits, Barry with the wife and kids at Kiowah, and the happy people celebrating a wedding at Monte Sano Lodge yesterday (to the few of you who looked like your personality was adrift, out to sea, out of order, off the job, down but not out, a wallflower looking for a secret admirer: I empathise – it may help for you to know that you are not alone).
After researching the business model of examiner. com and talking to one person who wrote for the website, I sure wonder how we determine what any one person’s art/craft is worth, both from the perspective of a business owner employing others to produce their special art/craft and as a craftsman myself.
Is a minimum wage simply a means to protect people from their own deflated self image of what they’re worth?
How many times have you negotiated with a prospective employee about salary and fringe benefits?
How many times have you won?
How many times have you lost?
At different levels of the hiring process, did you both win and lose?
How often was it really a “win-win” situation?
What is your M.O. and what do you think it’s worth?
If your investments increased 14% last quarter, would you consider that a good three months or not so good?
If Caterpillar leaves Illinois, who benefits?
Lead-acid or Li-Ion – which battery is in the future for your primary means of transportation?
Or do you have something else completely new in mind?
While Clarence Thomas proves he has cajones, even if his decision sends chills through the populations of innocent prisoners, striking another blow for the protection of lawbreaking law enforcers, let’s put aside petty squabbles and look where the real fun revs its engines.
For instance, the rumble in this part of the Tennessee Valley.
I’m told the International Crimes Tribunal is considering using Mossad to kidnap and extradite a person who may or may not live in Florida to stand trial for inciting the murder of UN personnel.
Wait, there’s an update. The International Crimes Tribunal convened, using emergency measures to hand down a quick ruling because the tribunal has no need to follow any parliamentary procedure or protect the individual’s right to a fair trial – the person in question has been convicted in absentia of heinous crimes against humanity. The ICT will announce the extent of punishment at a later date. Remember, there’s only a reward for delivering a live specimen to ICT for meting out Clarence Thomas’ style beatings when asking for an immunity form. How does the saying go, “the hospital, not the morgue”?
Bounty hunters are now competing with Mossad and the Revolutionary Guard to get the most bang for the buck.
As opposed to deer hunters, who’re always trying to get the most buck for the bang!
I’m told that Salman Rushdie is celebrating, now that his literature’s effect on the Muslim world is nothing in comparison to the latest news. Julian Assange feels like he’s off the hook for now, too.
What is a long-form birth certificate and does it have anything to do with a person’s ability to get reelected?
Do you have the ability to move the human population in a direction that serves no one and everyone at the same time?
If you did, would you destroy tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of trees in order to pay a simple $50 in court?
If laws have no meaning, why are you pretending that morals and ethics exist?
If morals and ethics don’t exist, why do states of energy naturally attract each other into specific formations?
My network is older than me and will outlast me. It’s not me you have to concern yourself with; it’s the members of my network who have no qualms about imaginary ideas like morals/ethics and make things go bump in the night that legends and myths have taught you to fear.
Most importantly, when we’re through with them, you are the ones who have to deal with de/reprogramming the brainwashing we perfected in order to achieve our megagoals for your sake as a species, not as individuals.
You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!
Well, maybe GE is the way to force the government to cut costs, by inspiring the rest of us self-employed spoilt brats.
treetrunkdings 