The title of today’s post is still the most clever name I’ve heard for “big boobs.”
Moving on…
This is a picture I took at Point Reyes. I like this picture because it started out to be a picture of the grass and flowers, and it ended up being a picture in which to my eye Kay looks really hot.
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In my opinion — meaning, in the ever-shifting unique reality that arises between my ears, which includes a vast accumulation of opinions that my reality has been exposed to — the United States recently went from having very poor leaders, to having very good ones, and an exceptionally good one at the top. We went from terrible to terrific, which according to the reckoning in my reality, is the best possible improvement. If I can’t be content when the best possible outcome takes place, then that means I am pre-wired to never be content no matter what. And that doesn’t seem wise. So I’ve decided to settle on “best possible improvement” as being good enough for me.
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A few days ago, I was watching an interview on TV, and I heard the phrase “slow food” go by. I’d never heard it before. Immediately, this meme was lodged firmly in a fertile part of my mind and it grew rapidly on its own, with no explanations needed from the speakers. Slow food. Produced and prepared slow — many implications there. Eaten slowly — another set of excellent meaning there as well. This was a fine phrase indeed.
One of the speakers gave me an aha moment when she said that part of the meaning of “slow” in “slow food” is that the only way to use ingredients right from the earth, and eat at home, is to actually cook, which takes time, energy, and knowledge. She said that this is a high hurdle for many people who want to eat better in ways that are least harmful to the planet, but can’t quite pull it off because their current habits are/seem unbreakable.
I Googled “slow food” and learned about an organization called “Slow Food” that’s been around a long time. During my brief stay at their site I got the strong impression that if there is such a thing as good guys and bad guys, these are good guys.
I read about “slow food” as it pertains to food production, and food preparation, but I didn’t see anything about rate of intake. Too bad really, since this is yet another way that fast food loses to slow food.
I’m always looking for reminders to slow down when I’m in mid glut. And this phrase has already proved its worth by coming to my rescue last night. It was like my entire arm-to-jaw feeding system was a horse. I was riding the horse. The name of the horse was, “Food.” We were galloping along, and suddenly, I said the words, and the horse obeyed: “Sloooow Food. That’s it. Slow down. Good boy.”
Here’s everything you need to know about the two characters in this true story:
Moe: He’s my cousin, and he plays the bass.
Gretchen: She’s a good friend, by marriage, and she likes to have nice things.
Moe came from Ohio to visit me in California. I bought a bass guitar the day before he arrived. I’d been wanting to have one around the house anyway, and with Moe coming out, this seemed like the right time. So I went to a music store, and I walked up to a long row of bass guitars hanging from the ceiling, and I went directly to the cheap end, and I grabbed the very last one. It was $189. And black. And shiny.
Right then the sales guy walked up. I spoke first. “Will this thing hold tune?”
He shrugged his shoulders a little and said, “Probably.”
A great deal was communicated here. My question said I knew enough about guitars to know that some of them don’t “hold tune.” And when the guy shrugged and said “Probably,” he was basically saying, “Look dude, obviously you know enough to know that I can’t vouch for that pathetic collection of lumber scraps in your hand. If you want a real guitar, you might consider buying any one of the other 10 million guitars in our store.”
Loving his candor, I said “I’ll take it.”
The next night, Moe was staying over, and Gretchen came by for a visit. Plus Kay my wife made four of us. We were chitting and chatting, and the conversation made its way to Gretchen’s shoes.
“I practically stole these shoes,” Gretchen said with great excitement. “They were on double mark down, for $209!”
I wasn’t looking at Moe at the time. If I had been, I believe I would have seen his Adam’s apple move.
An hour later, I was talking about recent events in my life, and I mentioned the bass guitar that I had just bought. I had already told Moe about it earlier, and about how much it cost. “Go get it!” said Moe. “Let’s see this gem!”
So I brought it out. Along with my teensie little practice amp. I’m not sure why they call tiny guitar amplifiers “practice amps.” Maybe they are meant to be used only for practicing, as opposed to on stage. Or it could mean that the amp is practicing at being a real amplifier someday. Hard to say. In any case, playing a bass guitar through this amp was going to be like trying to squeeze sausage links out of a spaghetti maker.
We will return to the plot line now…
I brought the bass out, and we were all looking at it, and Gretchen asked, “How much did that thing cost?”
Before I could say the price, Moe exclaimed, “Not as much as your shoes!”
Yoga people like to name their various body positions after animals. They call them poses. (Does this make them posers?) There’s cobra pose, and scorpion pose, and fish pose, and turtle pose, and on and on the list goes. Not surprisingly, there’s dog pose and cat pose, and they come in varieties, just like the animals.
I’m not sure what this type of transference would be called. If anthropomorphism is “the attribution of uniquely human characteristics to non-human creatures,” then what would you call its opposite?
Our cat Emma is a cat. But she feels no special connection to “cat pose.” When asked about it, she said, “Cat pose is merely one of many elegant poses that come naturally to me.” Thanks to the modern telephone, Kay and I captured two of Emma’s more unique poses in photographs. In the first picture, Emma is on Kay’s back. This is called the “As soon as you get up I’m going to attack that string and drag it through the house while making loud whining sounds” pose.
Next is a picture of Emma snuggled down on me, demonstrating the “I bet I can hold my pose longer than you can hold yours” pose.
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