This global economic crunge has added a delightful extra layer of stress to the usual drudgery of working for a living. I’ve expressed a desire to Paloma of vamoosing from the rat race.
“We should open a bait shop.”
“How do we become Bedouins?”
She reminds me that I like to say the word Bedouin.
(I wonder if the Bedouins fish)
Of course, if Paloma and I end up running a bait shop, we’d likely be living in a setting which would allow Paloma to assemble an ark-worthy menagerie.
I think that I might try to grow a giant pumpkin.
“We saw that show on giant pumpkins,” she says.
It’s true. We stumbled across a documentary one night on PBS about people who grow giant pumpkins. We had to watch.
After a grueling day working at the bait shop, trying to produce a pumpkin the size of a small car seems like it might be a good way to unwind.
I wouldn’t be entering the competition chronicled in that documentary. It seemed like it made things too much about the people when it really should have been about the pumpkins.
I feel more Zen already.
And tomorrow, if things should get stressful at work, I vow to take a moment to stare into space and think of giant pumpkins.
I have one song with pumpkin in the title, but I have numerous songs by Smashing Pumpkins. Paloma and I saw them in ’95. The show was more memorable to me for the tiny toy raygun Paloma found and wore in her hair as an accessory.
And, yes, Jackie Blue and Landslide are cover versions of the Ozark Mountain Daredevils and Fleetwood Mac.