Trying to Navigate the Middle of the Road
One result of the mild winter we have been experiencing is I have had more time to spend outside walking through the woods, searching for the skeletons that may be out there. One of our local skeletons is what is called the Grand Trunk Railroad, There are bones everywhere.
I got to spend some time behind the dirty windshield this week. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance. I did a six hour round trip to Maine.
Anyone who has followed my various writings through the years knows how much I just love technology. Look how easy everything is now. We can order anything we need through our phones, books, televisions, dog food, pizza, and… Oh, wait, let’s take pizza off the list.
When did mega corporations determine they know what is best for us? Who gave them the right to decide what I want in my automobile, phone, breakfast cereal, etc.? Who are they to decide how I am going to live my life?
Which do you prefer – under or over? From the top or from the bottom? Now get your mind out of the gutter, I am not referring to what you are thinking. Rather I’m curious as to which way you prefer your toilet paper to unroll?
We have a new dog in the house. We couldn’t teach the old dog any new tricks so we ordered a new one.
It’s the first day of fall here in New England. Technically I guess it is the first day of fall everywhere. And a dark, dreary, damp day it has been. It IS one of those days that I tend to get depressed while I am driving to a destination.
I started thinking about how much my political view of the world has changed in the last ten years or so. It’s been a gradual thing, like getting older. You don’t realize you’re getting old until, bang, you can’t move as fast as you used to.
If I only knew then what I know now. Have you ever heard that? Have you ever said that?
As the years speed past me, I tend to think about that a lot. If I knew how things would turn out I would have made different choices. But I can’t now. We can’t undo what’s done.
Don’t fix it. Just another old adage that seems to have gone the way of transistor radios, eight-track tapes, and record players.
