Our internet/phone line has been down for a few days. Boooo.
The nice phone repair fellow was telling me about his dogs. He has a Great Dane (Cowboy) and a dachsund (Pancho), which is obviously a troubling size contrast. Cowboy was already several years old when Pancho showed up as an obnoxious little puppy. One of Cowboy's biggest gripes was finding Pancho hanging out inside of Cowboy's giant food bowl, whether it was empty or not.
One day this guy couldn't find Pancho, and when he looked out in the back yard he saw Cowboy walk by with Pancho in his mouth. At first he assumed Pancho was dead, of course, but then he saw that Pancho was fine. He also noticed that Cowboy had dug a giant hole and was heading over to place Pancho inside to get rid of him once and for all. Or perhaps he was burying him to play with later, like a bone?
Cowboy and Pancho: Friends 4ever?
Not having the internet for a few days was really annoying, and yes, I realize this is really spoiled. Geez, there are people starving in the world, and I'm yearning for instant world-wide access... I just felt so out of touch.
Well, I use the internet like a library. In fact, sadly, I haven't been to a library (used to be one of my favorite places in the world) since I made such good friends with the much-faster internet. I simply must look up every random thing I'm curious about, which is endless: Was Mark Twain married? How cold does it get in Australia? Why are pecans expensive even though most yards are littered with them? Was the body of Hitler ever found? Why does my toe hurt? What does a kangaroo rat look like? The answers are on the internet, every single time!
What does a kangaroo rat look like? It's freaking adorable, that's what!
Am I making up for my poor education? No, that's hopeless, as these bits of information toward my knowledge gaps are like throwing pebbles into a well. But it sure is fun to stamp out trivia that crosses my mind in the middle of the night. And perhaps one day I'll earn a special diploma from Wikipedia.
Speaking of being out of touch...
There is a store near us called "Rich Hippie," full o' the bohemian-type beads and skirts and sandals and jeans. But the name of the store is not kidding around, as we're talking $200 t-shirts as such. Ok, you want to run a boutique full of overpriced stuff, do it, but don't put RICH in the name. It's so pompous. And the only way I can justify a $200 t-shirt is if perhaps Jesus once wore it, which might heal my aching toe for good.
I am the carefree Bohemian, fringed and scuffed, and you can be original and relaxed like me for $1895...
We were walking away from that store and my husband said, "Rich Hippie? Geez... They should have called it Out-Of-Touch Asshole."
Out Of Touch