It's Hard Work

I don't want to sound like our esteemed Commander-in-Chief, but it has been tough...hard work... to keep up with posts here...I'm trying not to fall into the blogger trap of feeling the need to chronicle every event (which would be way boring) and thought (which might not pass through adult-content filters) of my day. So there will be days here without content. It is, truly, hard work. Maybe I need to take a five-week vacation.

But anyway, I had a moment the other night that begged for a camera phone...while at a dance class (more later) in a local private school gym, I notice the fire evacuation instructions posted by the door: In Event of Fire, exit straight to Graveyard. Guess they anticipate that sucker is really going to burn quickly?

Now, why are we going to dance class? Let me unequivocally state that it has absolutely NOTHING to do with "reality-television" dance shows...we watch so little television, and particularly not any of the ridiculously-pathetic "reality" shows that have so captivated our intelligent populace. (Mrs. Po thinks that the worst offender of this genre should be called "Americans Idle" due to the overwhelming attention it enjoys.) No, going to a dance class has everything to do with always wanting to be able to do more than the Elaine Benes two-step, and frankly, anything that allows two consenting adults to spend time together and enjoy some physical activity is a good thing. And at least dance class happens once weekly.

Another observation. Why do people feel no shame at hanging cardboard auto air fresheners, much less multiple ones, from their rear-view mirrors? Yes, I recognize that some people have aroma problems in their automobiles. But why advertise it? Why not post a sign there that says, "I Eat Lots of Cabbage?" Is it possible that, owner's lack of pride aside, the air freshener might make the car more attractive to thieves? "Hey, Bob, hold on -- don't break into that Taurus, the Camry over here has Fresh Vanilla scent!" What's next in this troubling trend of self-disclosure? People putting signs on their homes, saying "Cat Box Inside, House Smells Like Urine Factory?"

Disclaimer: the author has an Aura Cacia auto aromatherapy thingie inserted into his car's cigarette lighter, and carries a couple of different kinds of aromatic oils in the glove compartment. "Aha," you say, "a Whole Foods Market snob!"