Hi again, yahoos and yahoo-ettes. Well, a weird week sort’ve got an early start, due in part to my propensity for spontaneous bus rides and impetuous debarkations. It’s usually pretty tame stuff like the aroma of a good restaurant, the faint strains of a talented street musician, the masts of a schooner moving through the Ship Canal, the kinds of things the inner child in me notices.
Well, this time that inner adolescent got the rest of me right in the middle of a bicycle race whose contestants were mostly nude, pretty much so or dressed in body paint and a couple layers of devout immodesty. This is Seattle, where it’s legal to go nude in our public parks. I’ve got to say, though, that in 20 years, I’ve never seen a naked person having a picnic or doing the dueling tennis balls bit.
Nope, it took blithely and innocently cruising into the annual Fremont Solstice Festival Parade to give me my first glimpse of Seattle homo sapiens in public buff. If I didn’t love that inner child so much, I’d be tempted to give him a good spanking. I’m an orphan, though, so I’ve learned to be my own parent. That’s kind of like being self-employed and getting mad at the boss. Yep, I’ve got a few issues yet to work out.
That, however, doesn’t stop me from admiring someone who takes on a worthy cause and ramps it to the max. This one involves a British mother with an autistic son whose campaign for more government support for families with kids like hers ended up with a very productive meeting with Prime Minister Gordon Brown. Hers is a very empowering personal example and a reminder of what a single dedicated individual can accomplish in this life. Her name is Polly Toomey and if you’d like to learn more about her and her organization, here’s a good place to start.
Someone else who really impressed me this week was President Obama. Because of the decidedly bipartisan nature of this blog’s readership and its internationalism, I try not to lean on politics too much. And since I’m not nearly as good as most journalists at analyzing the national scene, as it were, I’m better off boring you guys with different stuff.
I enjoyed the way the American chief executive interacted with the press Tuesday morning. In my opinion, he articulates his positions with intelligence, candor and perspective. He’s also not afraid to laugh at himself and that’s probably what keeps him taking his job more seriously than he takes himself.
He’s also not afraid to spar with reporters and to remind them of where the boundaries are between his personal/family life and his responsibilities as the leader of a nation of some 307-million people. Above and beyond any political considerations, this president is good theatre and that too, is a quality I’ve come to value in a leader.
Here’s another of those stories from the Old West and I can particularly relate because “this county that refuses to die” is familiar to me. And the ghosts of Captain Jack and a desperate band of Modoc Indians. It’s a land of volcanoes, high desert and soaring forested granite peaks. Settled by those who crossed America in Conestogas, it remains a sparsely inhabited frontier where tradition and ingenuity are now bringing an increasing degree of economic stability to one of the Northwest’s most beleaguered counties.
Further north up the Interstate Five corridor, in Snohomish County, Washington ~ north of Seattle between the Puget Sound and the Canadian border ~ farmers are getting into the tourism business by offering hands on excursions of family-owned dairy and truck operations. With both Seattle and Vancouver, BC to draw from, this agritourism, as they’re calling it, should play well for those who grew up among orchards, hay lofts and milking stools as well as those with a romantic love of same. It’s also an excellent opportunity for sell local produce directly and to acquire same. It looks like another win-win situation to us.
It also provides a nice segue into the first of this week’s critter story. And after you read about this one, I swear by Old MacDonald’s ghost and the Kentucky Colonel that you have never going to look at chickens in quite the same way again. For those of you to whom this would constitute a major dietary event, we advise skipping this one.
We’re talking about a white rooster and a Cornish game hen known to a local community as “Care Chickens” because the woman who owns them takes them to visit residents of the town’s health and rehabilitation center. This is northeastern Montana farming country, so it makes sense. Petting a rooster and a Cornish game hen, I mean. Okay, it seems a little weird but like Grandpa Seamus used to say, “if it’s working, do NOT mess with it.”
And finally, to top off the tank, in a special to ABC News, Opinion writer Lee Dye asked the question, “Wouldn't it be handy if you could write yourself a note in midair and have it safely stored where you could retrieve it later?”
Ummm. No. In the first place, if I could read my own writing, I wouldn’t keyboard everything from a shopping list to another novel in progress. In the second place, how do I know that other people in the vicinity with similar phones couldn’t receive that note? Third, since I’m supposed to be a communications professional, how would I spell and grammar check such a missive?
Now just watch. Thanks to those researchers at Duke University and their "PhonePoint Pen", the next big rage will be air writing. Could be a boon to the air entertainment industry. Air guitars have been popular for quite awhile. If this triple-P threat could annotate music, I’ll bet it would catch on with air composers. And think about aspiring writers who never learned to type. In 20 years, they’ll be awarding a Pulitzer Prize for Air Literature. The applications of this new technology stagger the imagination. Where (oh where) is Grandpa Seamus when we need him now, eh? Sigh.
And on that note, folks, it’s been a pleasure and thanks once again for the ear. Take care, stay well and God Bless.
Rusty
P.S. Since next week’s both Canada Day (July 1) and American Independence Day and picnics are real popular, we thought we’d turn you on to a source of dynamite potato salad recipes. Cooking’s a hobby in this house and this is perhaps the best website we’ve found yet. It’s called cooking.com.
Well, this time that inner adolescent got the rest of me right in the middle of a bicycle race whose contestants were mostly nude, pretty much so or dressed in body paint and a couple layers of devout immodesty. This is Seattle, where it’s legal to go nude in our public parks. I’ve got to say, though, that in 20 years, I’ve never seen a naked person having a picnic or doing the dueling tennis balls bit.
Nope, it took blithely and innocently cruising into the annual Fremont Solstice Festival Parade to give me my first glimpse of Seattle homo sapiens in public buff. If I didn’t love that inner child so much, I’d be tempted to give him a good spanking. I’m an orphan, though, so I’ve learned to be my own parent. That’s kind of like being self-employed and getting mad at the boss. Yep, I’ve got a few issues yet to work out.
That, however, doesn’t stop me from admiring someone who takes on a worthy cause and ramps it to the max. This one involves a British mother with an autistic son whose campaign for more government support for families with kids like hers ended up with a very productive meeting with Prime Minister Gordon Brown. Hers is a very empowering personal example and a reminder of what a single dedicated individual can accomplish in this life. Her name is Polly Toomey and if you’d like to learn more about her and her organization, here’s a good place to start.
Someone else who really impressed me this week was President Obama. Because of the decidedly bipartisan nature of this blog’s readership and its internationalism, I try not to lean on politics too much. And since I’m not nearly as good as most journalists at analyzing the national scene, as it were, I’m better off boring you guys with different stuff.
I enjoyed the way the American chief executive interacted with the press Tuesday morning. In my opinion, he articulates his positions with intelligence, candor and perspective. He’s also not afraid to laugh at himself and that’s probably what keeps him taking his job more seriously than he takes himself.
He’s also not afraid to spar with reporters and to remind them of where the boundaries are between his personal/family life and his responsibilities as the leader of a nation of some 307-million people. Above and beyond any political considerations, this president is good theatre and that too, is a quality I’ve come to value in a leader.
Here’s another of those stories from the Old West and I can particularly relate because “this county that refuses to die” is familiar to me. And the ghosts of Captain Jack and a desperate band of Modoc Indians. It’s a land of volcanoes, high desert and soaring forested granite peaks. Settled by those who crossed America in Conestogas, it remains a sparsely inhabited frontier where tradition and ingenuity are now bringing an increasing degree of economic stability to one of the Northwest’s most beleaguered counties.
Further north up the Interstate Five corridor, in Snohomish County, Washington ~ north of Seattle between the Puget Sound and the Canadian border ~ farmers are getting into the tourism business by offering hands on excursions of family-owned dairy and truck operations. With both Seattle and Vancouver, BC to draw from, this agritourism, as they’re calling it, should play well for those who grew up among orchards, hay lofts and milking stools as well as those with a romantic love of same. It’s also an excellent opportunity for sell local produce directly and to acquire same. It looks like another win-win situation to us.
It also provides a nice segue into the first of this week’s critter story. And after you read about this one, I swear by Old MacDonald’s ghost and the Kentucky Colonel that you have never going to look at chickens in quite the same way again. For those of you to whom this would constitute a major dietary event, we advise skipping this one.
We’re talking about a white rooster and a Cornish game hen known to a local community as “Care Chickens” because the woman who owns them takes them to visit residents of the town’s health and rehabilitation center. This is northeastern Montana farming country, so it makes sense. Petting a rooster and a Cornish game hen, I mean. Okay, it seems a little weird but like Grandpa Seamus used to say, “if it’s working, do NOT mess with it.”
And finally, to top off the tank, in a special to ABC News, Opinion writer Lee Dye asked the question, “Wouldn't it be handy if you could write yourself a note in midair and have it safely stored where you could retrieve it later?”
Ummm. No. In the first place, if I could read my own writing, I wouldn’t keyboard everything from a shopping list to another novel in progress. In the second place, how do I know that other people in the vicinity with similar phones couldn’t receive that note? Third, since I’m supposed to be a communications professional, how would I spell and grammar check such a missive?
Now just watch. Thanks to those researchers at Duke University and their "PhonePoint Pen", the next big rage will be air writing. Could be a boon to the air entertainment industry. Air guitars have been popular for quite awhile. If this triple-P threat could annotate music, I’ll bet it would catch on with air composers. And think about aspiring writers who never learned to type. In 20 years, they’ll be awarding a Pulitzer Prize for Air Literature. The applications of this new technology stagger the imagination. Where (oh where) is Grandpa Seamus when we need him now, eh? Sigh.
And on that note, folks, it’s been a pleasure and thanks once again for the ear. Take care, stay well and God Bless.
Rusty
P.S. Since next week’s both Canada Day (July 1) and American Independence Day and picnics are real popular, we thought we’d turn you on to a source of dynamite potato salad recipes. Cooking’s a hobby in this house and this is perhaps the best website we’ve found yet. It’s called cooking.com.
