Category Archives: hitchhikers

On a green lizard

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We brought the plants home a couple of days ago from the neighbor’s house where they spend the summer. Apparently we also brought home a small green lizard which had made its home in the branches of a small ficus we have. After three days in our kitchen, he decided he was too thirsty or too hungry, so he made a break for it. The natural human condition is, of course, “kill it!,” but me, being the simple-minded granola eating tree-hugger that I am, I decided to try my hand a green lizard wrangling. Now wrangling a two ounce green creature that looks like he sells insurance is not as easy as it looks. My first weapon of choice was a large plastic cup, but he laughed at that and asked if I was going to “ice-tea him to death.” He stopped laughing when I brandished a broom. First, he pulled out his wallet and offered me fifty bucks to forget the whole thing and let him go back to his tree. “No dice,” I said, “You’ll be after my pop tarts in no time.” So he took out his cell phone to call 9-1-1 because as I came at him with the broom, he felt his life was in danger. I had him cornered by the stove, and he suggested that we make two cafe lattes and discuss things, especially extinction level events, such as presidential elections or getting whacked with a broom. I declined. He made a break for the cabinet holding the microwave, but my wife got between him and cover, so he reversed course, and headed for the other plants. I think he played hockey at some point in his life because he checked me into the wall, and I was momentarily stunned. In the meantime, I had opened the back door, and he caught a glimpse of light, freedom, escape, the promised land, virgin territory. He headed for open country, and I was hot on his trail, but then he decided to hide behind the plants and I lost him. After lifting all the plants, I spotted him behind some big green leafy thing, and the chase was on again. He almost broke to the left and headed into the living-room, but I dropped the broom and he headed for the door again. I thought his English accent was hilarious as he screamed about giving me a discount on my car insurance if I’d switch to another company. I said, “No!” and brought my broom to bear. He scampered toward the light and jumped over the threshold. He was free, and I slammed the screen door shut after him. He is now in a resettlement and witness protection program in our back yard, and I have warned the neighbors that he wants to sell them car insurance. So now I will get my “non-lethal green lizard wrangling badge” which is part of the Order of the Old Green Geezers. We do a lot with recycling and composting. Other than the shouting and screaming, it went perfectly well. No animals were harmed in the writing of this essay.

On a green lizard

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We brought the plants home a couple of days ago from the neighbor’s house where they spend the summer. Apparently we also brought home a small green lizard which had made its home in the branches of a small ficus we have. After three days in our kitchen, he decided he was too thirsty or too hungry, so he made a break for it. The natural human condition is, of course, “kill it!,” but me, being the simple-minded granola eating tree-hugger that I am, I decided to try my hand a green lizard wrangling. Now wrangling a two ounce green creature that looks like he sells insurance is not as easy as it looks. My first weapon of choice was a large plastic cup, but he laughed at that and asked if I was going to “ice-tea him to death.” He stopped laughing when I brandished a broom. First, he pulled out his wallet and offered me fifty bucks to forget the whole thing and let him go back to his tree. “No dice,” I said, “You’ll be after my pop tarts in no time.” So he took out his cell phone to call 9-1-1 because as I came at him with the broom, he felt his life was in danger. I had him cornered by the stove, and he suggested that we make two cafe lattes and discuss things, especially extinction level events, such as presidential elections or getting whacked with a broom. I declined. He made a break for the cabinet holding the microwave, but my wife got between him and cover, so he reversed course, and headed for the other plants. I think he played hockey at some point in his life because he checked me into the wall, and I was momentarily stunned. In the meantime, I had opened the back door, and he caught a glimpse of light, freedom, escape, the promised land, virgin territory. He headed for open country, and I was hot on his trail, but then he decided to hide behind the plants and I lost him. After lifting all the plants, I spotted him behind some big green leafy thing, and the chase was on again. He almost broke to the left and headed into the living-room, but I dropped the broom and he headed for the door again. I thought his English accent was hilarious as he screamed about giving me a discount on my car insurance if I’d switch to another company. I said, “No!” and brought my broom to bear. He scampered toward the light and jumped over the threshold. He was free, and I slammed the screen door shut after him. He is now in a resettlement and witness protection program in our back yard, and I have warned the neighbors that he wants to sell them car insurance. So now I will get my “non-lethal green lizard wrangling badge” which is part of the Order of the Old Green Geezers. We do a lot with recycling and composting. Other than the shouting and screaming, it went perfectly well. No animals were harmed in the writing of this essay.

On caprice

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It is summer, time for vacations and excursions, time for new experiences, getting away from home, meeting new people, trying new foods, exploring new landscapes, escaping the normal, the everyday, the humdrum, letting caprice carry you away. Yes, for all you rational empiricists, caprice is a naughty word associated with irrational and illogical behavior bordering on insanity. Caprice is about wanting things you shouldn’t want, doing things on the spur of the moment, letting go of the controlled life. For many people, caprice is childish and foolish. One should be able to live their whole life without being either spontaneous or unpredictable. All of life should be planned, logical, thought out, reasonable, predictable, and unsurprising. I know lots of people like this, and they are wonderful, if not a little boring. Caprice, on the other hand, can lead to all sorts of trouble: one might eat too much chocolate or ice cream, or heaven forbid, to much chocolate ice cream. No one needs chocolate ice cream for any reason whatsoever, so it is a caprice. Caprice might mean staying up too late to watch an old movie about good guys and bad guys, beautiful dangerous women, whiskey, big cars and palatial estates where some old guy grows orchids he hates. Nobody needs any of that. Caprice might mean eating that lobster as opposed to watching it swim in its aquarium. Nobody needs lobster, and besides, eating lobster usually leads to drinking white wine with someone you love, and of course, love only leads to rack and ruin, so lobster is a caprice. Life’s caprices will ruin your heavily structured, well-toned life of predictable and good behavior. Caprice is almost always about being bad, wanting something that is not good for you, getting something that is bad for you. Jetting off to Paris is a caprice because no one really needs to go to Paris when they have everything they really need in the United States, probably at the mall just down the street, or maybe even closer in that big box retailer on the corner near your house. And heaven forbid you should go to Madrid, which is full of caprices: lobster, flamenco, bull-fighting, the Prado, tapas, red wine, terraces, handsome people, wild night life, and chocolate ice cream. You might as well throw in the towel if you go there because you will be assaulted on all sides by unwelcome caprice of all kinds. You might lose control of your well-tailored life, of your managed respectability, of your over-sculpted identity. Caprice is a bad thing, no question about it. Stay at home and eat rice cakes. Drive a four-door, respectable, good-mileage sedan with an automatic transmission. Caprice can have nothing to do with your well-run life. Please stay away from other people, roses, fast cars, jazz, art museums (all sorts), bars, restaurants that offer lobster and/or chocolate ice cream, and airports, which only leads to flying and before you know it, you’re eating lobster on some beach where half-nude people are sipping drinks with little umbrellas in them. Don’t be tempted. Stay away from caprice and live your life.

On caprice

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It is summer, time for vacations and excursions, time for new experiences, getting away from home, meeting new people, trying new foods, exploring new landscapes, escaping the normal, the everyday, the humdrum, letting caprice carry you away. Yes, for all you rational empiricists, caprice is a naughty word associated with irrational and illogical behavior bordering on insanity. Caprice is about wanting things you shouldn’t want, doing things on the spur of the moment, letting go of the controlled life. For many people, caprice is childish and foolish. One should be able to live their whole life without being either spontaneous or unpredictable. All of life should be planned, logical, thought out, reasonable, predictable, and unsurprising. I know lots of people like this, and they are wonderful, if not a little boring. Caprice, on the other hand, can lead to all sorts of trouble: one might eat too much chocolate or ice cream, or heaven forbid, to much chocolate ice cream. No one needs chocolate ice cream for any reason whatsoever, so it is a caprice. Caprice might mean staying up too late to watch an old movie about good guys and bad guys, beautiful dangerous women, whiskey, big cars and palatial estates where some old guy grows orchids he hates. Nobody needs any of that. Caprice might mean eating that lobster as opposed to watching it swim in its aquarium. Nobody needs lobster, and besides, eating lobster usually leads to drinking white wine with someone you love, and of course, love only leads to rack and ruin, so lobster is a caprice. Life’s caprices will ruin your heavily structured, well-toned life of predictable and good behavior. Caprice is almost always about being bad, wanting something that is not good for you, getting something that is bad for you. Jetting off to Paris is a caprice because no one really needs to go to Paris when they have everything they really need in the United States, probably at the mall just down the street, or maybe even closer in that big box retailer on the corner near your house. And heaven forbid you should go to Madrid, which is full of caprices: lobster, flamenco, bull-fighting, the Prado, tapas, red wine, terraces, handsome people, wild night life, and chocolate ice cream. You might as well throw in the towel if you go there because you will be assaulted on all sides by unwelcome caprice of all kinds. You might lose control of your well-tailored life, of your managed respectability, of your over-sculpted identity. Caprice is a bad thing, no question about it. Stay at home and eat rice cakes. Drive a four-door, respectable, good-mileage sedan with an automatic transmission. Caprice can have nothing to do with your well-run life. Please stay away from other people, roses, fast cars, jazz, art museums (all sorts), bars, restaurants that offer lobster and/or chocolate ice cream, and airports, which only leads to flying and before you know it, you’re eating lobster on some beach where half-nude people are sipping drinks with little umbrellas in them. Don’t be tempted. Stay away from caprice and live your life.

On towels

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It is generally considered a good thing to pack a towel if you are traveling. At least, that’s what the thirty-second edition (inter-galactic edition, Buenos Aires, 2077) of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy suggests. Besides its general use for drying off after a shower, a towel can come in handy on inter-stellar flights with cold air-conditioning when you want to nap and your seat mate has taken the blankets. Folded, it makes a nice pillow. It can also be used as a matador’s cape if you find yourself alone and in a ring with a raging bull. If you can’t extricate yourself by running away, a towel is a nifty distraction for the bull to play with while you decide to run. Many travelers use their towel to wrap important or expensive bottles of non-standard beverages that they cannot get onto an airplane and must pack in a suitcase. Smaller items such as children, dogs, and ornamental statuary may also be wrapped in the towel for shipping. In case no napkins are provided, a towel can come in handy while eating lobster or brisket, depending on where you like to lunch. Of course, one never knows when one might be invited to the beach, and a towel is always handy at the beach. If you get invited to a friend’s house, you can always use your towel to dry the dishes after dinner. Towels have been used to wrap around the torso when one has been surprised in flagrante delicto doing something one should not do, especially if that something involves nakedness. Towels are often given as gifts when nothing better is at hand, but one should always make plans to replace a gifted towel. Towels make impromptu blankets for picnicking, although Terrellian fire ants should never be ignored. Ripped, torn or stain towels need to be cleaned, mended or replaced. You never want to get caught with your towel down. Towels have been seen being hoisted into place to catch a little wind by errant sailors who are down on their luck. A strange towel is always a great conversation starter or possible hook up line. If the hook up works, the towel will then have other applications as well. Never forget your towel after you are done and never leave a towel behind, which may or may not depend on how quickly you are leaving. Do not let bartenders use your towel to dry the bar. Although beer won’t stain your towel, it does leave a tell-tale smell. I carry an extra-full sized giant terry cloth towel because you never know what you might need to cover up.