Excuse me, but you seem to have stumbled into my little corner of the World Wide Web. Please wipe your feet.
Friday, June 20, 2003
I want a garden gnome. My wife won’t let me have
one. I’m not sure that I really wanted one when I first brought it up, but I can be obstinate when I don't
get my way. I was thinking the kitsch factor. She was apparently thinking the tackiness factor. She won. And I suppose
I can see her point. Where do you draw the line once you’ve opened that door? Garden statuary becomes an obsession for some.
Start with a simple gnome and next thing you know, you’ve got mushrooms, cherubim, squirrels, a herd of deer and you’re desperately
searching for that next fix…er, I mean object.
Anyway, I will bow to my wife’s wishes on this
one…sort of. No gnomes will be cluttering our yard in the immediate future.
However, this little fellow will soon
be taking up residence in the woods. In a rare coupling of kitsch and high-technology, I plan to play a kind of hide and seek
game with him. Once a suitable location is found, I will mark the latitude and longitude with my new GPS and post the
coordinates here. Then, if you have a GPS, you can go visit him. And my wife will be none the wiser. Stay tuned…
Got a GPS unit for Father’s Day and now, to the
mild annoyance of my family, virtually every step I take is tracked by a high-tech network of satellites to a precision of
several feet. No doubt the novelty will wear off in time, but for now I can assure you that there is absolutely no chance
that we’ll be getting lost on our after-dinner walks around the block. Plus, there are the statistics! Odometer,
average speed, ETA, ETE… The mind boggles. The family grumbles. Technology is bliss.
If the springtime woods is like a puppy – always
doing something cute, precocious or surprising – by mid-June it’s turned into a dog. No less lovable, mind you, just more
mature, more predictable, more tick-ridden. Still capable of surprise, of course, but more even-tempered and less demanding
of your constant attention.
The dated links above are to previous week's posts. Take a look if you haven't been following along.
And just for the record, all words and pictures, except as noted, are mine and mine alone. I take full responsibility
for them (unless, of course, legal action is threatened).
Willie, here, is both the mascot and the arbiter of good taste for this site... So, as you might
expect, people will be offended. My apologies.
"There's nary an animal alive that can outrun a greased Scotsman!"