Tag: humor

keep on path

This sign seems to offer helpful advice, but sometimes I’ve found myself with doubts I’m on the right path.

There is also something to be said for being a trailblazer, and heading off the path. You do need to watch out for hazards like poison ivy, though. Or other pitfalls. There might even be actual pitfalls! I’ve never seen a pitfall, other than in movies or TV shows I saw as a kid. It might actually be cool to build a pitfall, but if you did so, you should probably not do it on the path. For one thing, you’d probably get noticed by others who are out on walks on the path, and they might get suspicious of you out there with your shovel. You did bring a shovel, right? Because you’re not going to make a very effective pitfall if you just try digging a hole with your hands or a stick. Or even a spoon. It would take you a really long time with a spoon. Unless it’s a really big spoon, and unless the ground is really loose. So that’s another reason to go off the path. The ground’s going to be really packed hard on the path, and even if you had half a dozen friends there to help you with their grapefruit spoons, it would take a long time to build a pitfall big enough to catch something. No, I don’t know what you’re likely to catch. If this were a bikepath, you could catch a biker, but we already decided you should go off the path for this. So maybe a raccoon? Because, let’s face it, you’re going to get pretty tired of digging that pitfall, and I doubt you’ll keep at it long enough to make a hole big enough to catch something big like a bear. What were you planning to do with a bear anyhow? So just plan to keep things small and simple. A little hole, covered up with some sticks and camouflaged with some leaves. But not those leaves! I’m pretty sure those are poison ivy.

Come to think of it, it’s safer to keep on the path.

Better yet, keep on the couch and put on an episode of Gilligan’s Island. I’m pretty sure there was an episode where someone tried to make a pitfall.

–
This photo was taken at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, one of my favorite places in the world. I was remembering this photo with Friday’s theme of “path,” and thought I’d post something about the Japanese Tea Garden, or possibly something more meaningful about my path in life. I may have…strayed.

The Republic of Pants: Election 2012


It’s once again election season in the Republic of Pants. Four years ago, we were gripped by the tight pants race between Corduroy O’Bloomer and Trousers McPants. Today, the pants of the Republic are still split.

The media’s bias-cut stretches the fabric of the truth, tailoring the fit to either the Left Pants Leg or the Right Pants Leg. For those fully comfortable dressing on one side or the other, the choice may seem an easy fit. For those caught between the legs, however, the decision remains an uncomfortable one, and many concerns chafe.

After wearing O’Bloomer for 3 years, many are ready to try on a new pair of Pants. Some complain that O’Bloomer didn’t fit the way they’d hoped, that they’d been deceived by overly flattering dressing-room mirrors. Others never thought he was a good fit, and are pushing to go back to older pants styles. Yet there are still many who support O’Bloomer, and argue that his sturdily constructed pants are only beginning to be broken in.

O’Bloomer and his Vice Pants, Bootcut BiDenim, seek to publicize benefits of The Affordable Cleaners Act, a law by which all pants should be given access to adequate laundering. They claim that better fabric care for all pants will positively impact the well-being of the Republic, as well as addressing the rapidly rising costs of laundry. Critics argue that the dry cleaning companies will clean up while the pants of the Republic are hung out to dry.

Corduroy continues to be hemmed in by threadbare rumors, including that he is a Muslin, or just like Linen. Rumors that he was manufactured abroad persist in spite of his display of his “Made in the Pants Republic” labels.

Opposition styles, though, are also far from universally appreciated. After one of the most awkward and embarrassing fashion shows in decades, Tweed R. Moneypants was selected as challenger to O’Bloomer.

Few would call the Moneypants campaign seamless, with evidence of it being patched up on the fly. Many claim that R. Moneypants is really a pair of reversible pants, showing whichever pattern of his double-face fabric better suits his base. Some dispute his claims that he pulled himself up by his belt-loops, saying that he was braced by his father’s suspenders. Moneypants has further been criticized and for pocketing his assets in offshore Bermuda shorts, and for being in the back pocket of powerful suits with a vested interest in seeing him wear the Pants.

The uncomfortable stiffness of Tweedy’s material has been the butt of many jokes. Hammerpants Rayon, running mate of Moneypants, seems to be cut from a more comfortable pattern, but many doubt that his flashy cloth has enough substance to adequately cover the seat of the Pants Government.

Every fiber of the candidates is being examined for stains, holes and other defects, whether or not they are material to the issues. In this straight-legged race, neither side has the option to be a relaxed fit. Both must stay up on their briefs or risk being caught with their pants down. As the old adage goes, “He who slacks off gets sent to the cleaners.”

Both O’Bloomer and Moneypants are expected to be neatly pressed for the upcoming debates, with carefully tailored responses under their belts. Questions likely to be addressed include: How will each address the continuing strain on the fabric of the Pants Economy? How will they protect the National Pants from the looming menace of international Powerbritches? And finally, and most controversially, do leggings really count as pants?

Pulling the plug.

No, I’m not pulling the plug on the blog. It’s this little guy whose days are over:

Yes, my sad, tired little Motorola flip phone is finally getting retired.

I remember well the day I got this phone. Not so much because it was an exciting phone, but because I got it at the same time as John got his first iPhone. As in the day the *first* iPhones came out. I wasn’t ready yet to commit to such an expensive phone, but since we were getting a new plan, I got my new phone.

That was a little more than 5 years ago. I know this because I posted this on that day:

original iPhone

So, 5 years old. The phone is a good year older than my second born, who is just starting pre-K. If my phone were a human, it would be getting ready to start kindergarten in the fall. It might be learning to read and write its name.

As a gadget, though, it is ancient. Its memory is failing. (It can’t always find its sim card.) It tires easily. (It won’t hold a charge.) It’s looking dated and is showing its years. (The case is frayed and they don’t even make accessories for it anymore.) And I’m pretty sure the thing is on a daily regimen of metamucil. (Really, I have no phone-related analogy for that one.)

Yesterday, John brought me home a shiny new iPhone. I used it to take the photo above of my old phone. Of course, then I thought I should have a photo of the new phone, so I used my old phone to take a photo of the new phone.

Naturally, I thought I should get another shot with my new phone of the old phone with the photo of the new phone with the photo of the old phone.

How could I then resist taking a photo with the new phone of the old phone showing a photo of the new phone with a photo of the old phone?

And yet another photo with the new phone, showing the old phone with a photo of the new phone with the photo of the old phone with the photo of the new phone showing that first photo of the old phone.

It’s really not clear to me how long I would have continued in this vein if Phoebe had not pointed out to me that it was well past lunch time, and that she was hungry.

So now it’s time to let the phone run out of battery one last time, and pack up the old phone and its less-than-fully-functional accessories.


Rest in peace, once trusty flip phone. May you forever hold your charge in the afterworld. (Send me a text when you get there.)