Unintended Consequences

The French Quarter is shut down, and the rats don’t like it one bit. They’re scurrying around wondering where all the food went. To quote the mayor,  "What we have seen is these practices are driving our rodents crazy." (I think referring to them as “our rodents” is a nice bit of inclusivity.) So the city is putting out Warfarin to kill them. But my thought is a lot of these rats have been overindulging  for years on fried oysters, etouffee, red beans, beignets.  A little dose of blood thinner may be just what they need to extend their lives.

finger on the pulse

I’m so ahead of the curve I’m in my own back pocket, so fashion-forward that last week’s styles are already retro-chic, so on-trend that tomorrow has me on speed dial. Right now, my chosen beverage is lukewarm tap water in a Dixie cup, but I’m only breathing craft air. Music on vinyl? Not so much. I’m into a band so hip their new release is available only on two-inch 24 track or Edison cylinder. But I liked their earlier stuff more. Before they met each other. And actually they were best when they had another name and completely different members.

Stop your tittering.

Boys, stop that giggling or I shall have to separate you. As I was saying, the tufted titmouse is not a mouse at all, but a charming little bird in the tit and chickadee family. Its familiar song can be described as a lilting “peter, peter, peter” – Boys! I’ll not warn you again! – a lilting “peter, peter, peter” in the trees. It is not to be confused with the edible dormouse, a small rodent that was considered a delicacy by the ancient Romans. It is consumed to this day in Slovenia, where the fur is used to make traditional hats.

It was a living heck.

Every generation has its cross to bear. Like, my grandparents had the Great War and Spanish Flu and their kids had the whole Hitler unpleasantness, and certainly I appreciate that many folks today are concerned about waves of viral infection scrubbing the entire human species from the globe although personally it’s too late for me to die young. But we boomers had our own trials. It wasn’t all Twinkies and Tang. It’s probably difficult for a person who didn’t come of age in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s to truly understand just how snugly our trousers fit back then.

In which Dave dreams big.

Travel is overrated. Most places are about the same notwithstanding variations in temperature and ambient light levels. But dang, I feel like I’ve been missing out big time because I’ve never been to Logan, Ohio. Friends, when the Reverend Paul A. Johnson died in 2010 he left a collection of about 3,400 pencil sharpeners which are now displayed at Logan’s Pencil Sharpener Museum. Plan your trip for Father's Day weekend to enjoy the annual Washboard Music Festival. (Logan is home to the Columbus Washboard Company, our nation’s only extant producer of said implements.) My bucket list has exactly one item.