The Kitten And The Meat Grinder
I was complaining about a hangnail until I heard about the man with his arm stuck in a meat grinder. This morning I started the day by reading about a Rhode Island man who for two hours had his arm stuck in a meat grinder, up to his shoulder. It was a short article without much information but how much more information do you really need? If I said to you I have my arm stuck in a meat grinder would you ask me where I grew up, are my eyes brown or black, how tall am I? Also, I was struck by the comment that the police spokesman did not know the extent of the man's injuries. The man's arm was stuck in a meat grinder, up to his shoulder. To me, the extent of his injuries would seem rather obvious. I think it was a reporters fault for asking the question and the police spokesman just could not think of any way to respond, so he said he did not know. The man was reportedly coherent and talking throughout the ordeal so another throw away question would be--Is the man a tough sumabitch?
In contrast, I'm getting a kitten today. It has been many years since I've owned a kitten. They did not have pet super stores the last time I owned a kitten. I was in one today. I bought some cat food and a cat water cooler. No, no, I did buy the kitten food. I bought the expensive, scientifically formulated kitten kibble, but only the small bag, in case kitten does not like it. Then I can go back and choose between five or six other brands and as many flavors. The wife of the man who is bringing the kitten and some pizza and beer just before kickoff for the Saints/Indianapolis game told him to tell me some of the things kitten would need, and the short list included a bed. Kitten is not getting a bed. I got him the water cooler instead.
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Shenandoah Brooktrout
Up To Ninety
Drove into DC Wednesday to see the new Hopper exhibit at the National Gallery. The exhibit does not actually start until mid September but I'm not one of those anal retentive types that has to know exactly when and where everything starts. Bernadette knew it was there or was going to be there and that is good enough for me. I checked online and remember glancing at the end date--I thought it most important that we not be late--and I was comforted by seeing something that ended with a 2008. We had plenty of time. We would not be late. In truth, I am a little anal retentive about being on time. Not that that by itself is such a good thing because once I arrive on time I feel no compulsion whatsoever to make good use of that time. If I can find a comfortable chair I might enjoy hours just staring into a corner contemplating all the degrees that add up to 90. And the shading therein.
I called BC from the road and he said he may like to join us so that was a thing I looked forward to while I worried for nothing about finding convenient parking. We found a nice spot right on Constitution Ave. and I called back and got his Blackberry. Speak slowly it instructed me because my voice message was to be miraculously transcribed to written words BC could look at on a screen. I have previous experience with the miracle so I knew it was best not to overtax the technology's capacity. I said, very slowly, Edward Hopper. He would know that we were at the National looking at Hoppers. I called back about thirty minutes later and slowly like a sleepy drunk said, No Hopper. I never did hear from him and wonder even now, two days later, is he roaming that vast cool marbled maze for art loving mice and men, staying to the edges and peeping up every once in a while--I don't see the Hopper, Jim? Bernadette?
Drove into DC Wednesday to see the new Hopper exhibit at the National Gallery. The exhibit does not actually start until mid September but I'm not one of those anal retentive types that has to know exactly when and where everything starts. Bernadette knew it was there or was going to be there and that is good enough for me. I checked online and remember glancing at the end date--I thought it most important that we not be late--and I was comforted by seeing something that ended with a 2008. We had plenty of time. We would not be late. In truth, I am a little anal retentive about being on time. Not that that by itself is such a good thing because once I arrive on time I feel no compulsion whatsoever to make good use of that time. If I can find a comfortable chair I might enjoy hours just staring into a corner contemplating all the degrees that add up to 90. And the shading therein.
I called BC from the road and he said he may like to join us so that was a thing I looked forward to while I worried for nothing about finding convenient parking. We found a nice spot right on Constitution Ave. and I called back and got his Blackberry. Speak slowly it instructed me because my voice message was to be miraculously transcribed to written words BC could look at on a screen. I have previous experience with the miracle so I knew it was best not to overtax the technology's capacity. I said, very slowly, Edward Hopper. He would know that we were at the National looking at Hoppers. I called back about thirty minutes later and slowly like a sleepy drunk said, No Hopper. I never did hear from him and wonder even now, two days later, is he roaming that vast cool marbled maze for art loving mice and men, staying to the edges and peeping up every once in a while--I don't see the Hopper, Jim? Bernadette?