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Okay, work with me here - that's a symbolic representation of rain above - it seems that like this past winter where we had no shortage of snow, most every day recently (and them some) has been rainy. Even if there's no rain, the humidity makes it feel like we're swimming in soup. Arrrgh! It's unpleasant and annoying. I just thought I'd share that.

On other fronts, I am just starting to look for a new job. I am watching my summer money level slowly dropping, which puts on the pressure - as a friend told me, we do what we have to do! It's that simple. I will keep you posted.

Later.

If it Ain't Broke...

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more ?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time ?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, play the guitar, and sing a few songs... I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard, and I can help you ! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that ?" asked the Mexican.

"With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City ! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

"How long would that take ?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.

"And after that ?"

"Afterwards ? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions !"

"Millions ? Really ? And after that ?" said the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings doing what you like and enjoying your friends."

"With all due respect sir, but that's exactly what I am doing now. So what's the point wasting twenty-five years ?" asked the Mexican.

And the moral is: Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

~Author Unknown~

I love that story and the message it sends!
If I need to explain further, you won't get it.

Later.

No Matter How You Slice It...

(Photo from www.everytattoo.com)

I thought that today was the day - that I had finally gotten through! It's not like I am asking for anything big or complicated, but, alas, it again wasn't to be. I have gotten into the Dunkin' Donuts (DD) routine whenever I take my daughter for a riding lesson or whenever I am heading out on an adventure. Anyhow, today was an adventure - my wife and I were meeting three other Lions to cater a horse show as a fund-raiser (dogs, burgers, chips, and soda or water). I was the cook. I smell like a hamburger, but that's another story.

Anyhow, before our trek north to the show grounds this morning, we stopped at DD's. I ordered my usual - a poppy bagel and coffee; Miss Kim got coffee and doughnuts (unusual). Our bill came to $7.15; I paid with a ten. The new kid in training behind the counter took my ten and handed me back $7.15. I kept my hand out and said, "I think you made a mistake." He looked puzzled. He said that I had given him a ten. I said he had given me too much, handed it back, and told him to give me back $2. 85. He was incredulous! He said, "You could've gotten away with it!" Yes, I could have, but I am an honest person - apparently a rarity in today's youthful world. (I would not want to be the one looking at today's balance sheet, but that wasn't the issue.)

When I order the bagel, every time I say, "Toasted, with plain cream cheese, spread on it, and would you cut it in half, please." Trouble is they can't. Almost no employee there understands what it means to "cut it in half." I don't think it's really that hard a concept to understand. My daughter thinks it's funny. Back in the car, she delights in opening the bag, finding my bagel, and, rolling her eyes, announcing that it's not cut. One day, when I walked over to the person preparing my bagel, I caught his eye and made slicing motions with my hand as he bagged it (whole). He thought I wanted to shake his hand.

Today, I explained to the order-taker that I wanted it sliced in half - I even pantomimed the motion. He understood; he really did! But somehow, the message never got from him to the preparer. Back in the car, it was my wife who discovered the bagel sliced horizontally (technically, it was in half but not vertically). I think that the problem is the person taking the order is not the person fulfilling the order, and something gets lost in the few feet they're apart.

I know I can make this happen regularly; I just don't know how yet. Sigh.

Later.

Drip...drip...drip...

Today I had to pick up a pair of thinning shears we had sent out to get sharpened. All was fine until I looked across the street and saw a Blood Drive happening at the church. I decided then and there that it had been a while, so....

Since my shopper-friendly town allows thirty-minutes of free parking before nailing you with a $10 ticket, I thought it would be a good idea to leave a note on the window saying I was donating blood, which I knew would take more than half an hour (I guess it worked - there was no ticket). The drive was sponsored by the local Hannaford grocery chain, which is really a part of the Brussels-based Delhaize Group. Fortunately the store's workers and today's volunteers are all still local, which adds a pleasant, friendly atmosphere (as did the wonderful cheese and crackers, grapes, drinks, and other goodies they supplied).

On the plus side, all went pretty well - I didn't tell the nurses about my world-traveling, African, intravenous-drug-using, newly tattooed wife who gets "friendly" with HIV-active, uh, well, friends, but that's my business, not theirs (ONLY KIDDING! [I can see the Red Cross people gasping about now!]). Seriously, I checked out well enough to donate! I was reminded of the scene in "Beetlejuice" when he's sitting in the Waiting Room of Lost Souls. I was number 29, but it may as well have been the one Beetlejuice himself got before he switched it.

Anyhow, when I finally made it onto the donation lounger (you know, the beach-chair like thing), I knew I was good to go. My nurse, it turns out, and I have a past. - we were once naked together - me on an operating table and she under her uniform. When I wrote Berman's Bits for the area paper, her husband was my editor (small world). In the middle of my draining, two other nurses replaced her - one was in training. Her mentor said things like, "Be sure to shake his thing" and "Shake his bag" (seriously, she really did say that! Until I knew what she was referring to, I wasn't sure what to think!) Fortunately, the second nurse was a good learner and got it all right.

When I was all done, and I was finally ready to leave (the whole thing took 2-1/2 hours), the skies opened up and it poured! It was one of those storms I thought people only saw in Florida. I ran (as much as my ancient body let me) to my car and was literally soaked to the skin! Of course, within a mile, the rain had passed and the sun was out, and so it goes.

I gave my first blood in 1967. I was in the National Guard at basic training (Fort Dix, NJ) and was given the choice of an afternoon off if I donated. I figured it couldn't be worse than the training. I was right. Today was my 48th time giving!

Later.

Guest Blogger #1!

I have to change my mindset! I am no longer a teacher, so I am freer to say what I really think (but it is still quite hard for me to do it at this point - 31 years of self-censorship doesn't just go away overnight).

Anyhow, I have a guest Blogger today (that's him to the left, not me)! I have been reading this gentleman's words for years and was lucky enough to meet him and hear him speak this past year. The connection with my opening: he has done what I haven't been able to - that is be able to freely speak his mind (and write his words) and not care what others think. My work environment was such that the wrong thing said equaled big problems, so I learned to be quiet (or at least very, very carefully watch what I said). Anyhow, the column below arrived today, and I wanted to share it with my readers. The words below pretty much nail our messed-up country today! Read it, and then read it again. I hope you understand and agree. The following is reprinted with permission (assuming "Go for it, Dave" constitutes permission). Enjoy:

THE MIDDLE ROAD: AMERICA'S DESERTED WASTELAND

By Joe Klock, Sr.

As this is being written, our nation is celebrating its 232nd birthday, with gasoline at an all-time high throughout the land and public optimism, in some areas, seemingly finding lower ground on a daily basis.
Having lived through more than a third of America's history (35.345% for anal retentive readers), I have mixed emotions about its present status and future prospects.
To be sure, I applaud the fact that this country has survived a risky birth, a frail infancy and multiple crises, but I'm saddened by some of the changes in public attitude and governmental practices.
Although it is a time-honored policy among political partisans to "point with pride" to all of the principals and principles identified with their parties and "view with alarm" all those of the opposition, the polarization of these views has become increasingly rigid and mean-spirited.
Regrettably, in this presidential election year, it is customary to slap labels on those either holding office, seeking office or merely taking positions on matters politic.
At the highest level, one candidate is seen as oozing leftward, while the other sidles subtly to the right - both, presumably to attract new supporters without abandoning their core sychophants.
The mass media are rife with thinly-concealed propaganda, disguised as news, fact and objective debate. (For evidence of this phenomenon, flip randomly between Fox News and MSNBC between 7:00 pm and bedtime.)
In my small corner of the wordworking world, I have been accused of being both conservative and liberal, often with an accompaniment of pejorative comments and suggestions that my IQ and age are numerically equal numbers.
I plead, incidentally, guilty to both charges, tending to be conservative as to most economic matters and generally liberal in the social arena.
That said - and here I might start losing some of you readers - I feel strongly that those tendencies (an important word there) reflect the position of most Americans who do not fit into the inflexible mold of extremism.
In other words, most of us TEND to be the kind of moderates which most partisans PREtend to be in their public personae.
Also, most of us (exceptions noted above) are willing to concede that those with whom we disagree are not entirely wrong in their beliefs - except in such irreconcilable matters as the support of athletic teams and the proper seasoning of chili con carne.
In the language of partisanese, compromise is regarded as a hateful four-letter word, more appropriately replaced by either the flipping of one finger or the pointing of another.
This is why the blame game is played with respect to such problems as:
- Our hopeless-in-the-short-run dependency on fossil fuels.
- Our rape and pillage of a once-solvent Social Security fund.
- Our sailor-on-leave deficit spending policies.
- The surrender of policy-making to lobbyists and special interests.
- The transformation of our electoral process to an e-Bay auction.
- Our progressive departure from recognizing a power higher than ourselves.
- Disrespect for the flag and disdain of patriotism.
- Almost automatic reelection of underperforming public officials.
- An increase in laws and decrease in order.
- Shameless pandering to illegal immigrants and their (voting) supporters.
- Scorn from some international enemies and screwings from some friends.
All of these national scourges - among many others - are hot topics in the current campaign atmosphere, but have roots dating back through several presidencies and congressional transitions.
So when a single finger is flipped outward in the present, several others point backward, and none of our major problems can be laid on the doorstep of a single party, candidate or the immediate past.
What is missing in the "Sturm und Drang" of our current situation is an invasion by our elected leaders and self-appointed opinionists into the largely unoccupied wasteland of compromise.
Therein often is heard such encouraging words as "you have a point there," and "let's sit down and hammer out a solution" and "I said something really stupid, didn't I?" and "WE made a mistake, folks."
Until such sensible dialogue comes into vogue, we'll continue to be misguided by the rhetoric of those "pride pointers" and "alarm viewers," while the future Fourths of our descendants shape up as less festive occasions, with more candles, but smaller cakes.
Disagree with me if you wish, but please spare me the fingers!
One final thought: Oh, say, can you see any familiar figures in that middle ground?
Great lyrics for a new National Anthem, maybe, as our star-spangled banner doth seem to be wavering a bit.

Freelance wordworker Joe Klock, Sr. (joeklock@aol.com) is a winter Floridian who summers in Holderness, New Hampshire. More of his "Klockwork" can be found at www.joeklock.com. The KlockWorks, Inc., P.O. Box 72, Holderness, NH 03245
Phone: (603) 968-4449 E-Fax: (954) 333-2944 Web: www.joeklock.com
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Everything was Rainbow, Rainbow, Rainbow...

Except for my usual minor complaints (getting up at 4 AM [Kim and Jessie did - I made it to 5 AM] and a two-hour drive each way, today's horse show at Furnace Brook Farm was a good one! While our showing is not about the ribbons, Jessie did earn eight ribbons out of ten classes including several in 2-foot fence jumping at a canter. Some of her placings were in classes of 10, 11, and 12 riders! She held her own and performed admirably (as did Dixie [aka Southern Constellation], her horse). Setting the tone for the day was when Trainer (and good friend) Sarah found a heads-up good-luck quarter.

The picture above is from our dinner stop on the way home. Keen observers will see the rainbow that shone on our trip back. Jessie is feeding apple slices to the camera-shy Dixie (if you know what you are looking for, you can see her ear). We did run into some severe thunderstorms on our return trip, but we made it safe and sound.

This show was a step up from our usual area shows. There were some great riders and horses there. Jessie has come so far so quickly this year; she's now riding with a confidence that was not present earlier. We are all so proud of her.

Later.