Paul Merrill
“It’s a point of pride for the staff of the Sojourn to always be in uniform, no matter what the request.”
I was amused to see this picture in an airline magazine – part of publicity for a luxury cruise.
My first thought was, could you swim laps with us? They would have to stay in uniform…
A Trabant.
I’ve written about them before.
This one was at my neighborhood Walgreen’s, and I couldn’t resist.
Though the car was originally introduced in 1957, I found a brand new one at Walgreen’s.
It was the King’s birthday – the last morning we were in Malaysia. More than half the ads in the newspaper were honoring his rule and the occasion.
Why is it that in the “west” we don’t honor our head leader like that? In the USA, I can hear shouts back about how he didn’t deliver what we asked. Or how he may not represent what some believe.
I lived in England for three years. They have a queen. The real head of the country is the Prime Minister. He gets scathing reviews in newspapers. The figurehead Queen? Not a bad word is heard (in comparison, anyhow.)
African countries? Sometimes a really terrible person can be the president, but somehow the people let him remain in power. Why?
I don’t really know the answers to these questions. I just thought it was interesting how different parts of the world treat their leaders. If you have any ideas on why these things happen, I’d love to hear your comments.
There’s this rich guy, you see. He owns the Indianapolis Colts. He has a guitar collection. A lot of really nice guitars. Nothing wrong with that. He can afford them. Or a lot of really nice pianos as well, if he wanted.
The thing that is unfair about this situation is that there are a lot of really good guitar players out there who can’t afford such guitars. My guess is that Mr. Irsay can’t play guitar that well.
My solution to this problem? Mr. Irsay could lend each one – for free – to the starving guitarists, for a few months each time. He could keep a few back just to look at each evening. As part of the deal, he could fly each one to his home for a private concert before the lending period started.
If guitars are like violins, they are healthier if played regularly.
I follow people I actually know.
I usually don’t follow companies I don’t know.
I follow those who follow me who seem to have interesting tweets.
I follow a few who I don’t know who have interesting tweets.
I like to tweet when I have something interesting to say.
And I like to discover new people!
You can follow me here. Or not.
Some days I just feel like the wheels were stolen out from under me.
As this year is still new, it’s worth reflecting on the fact that in your life, some things will get better.
So look up!
I was surfing Svpply* on a Sunday afternoon. I came across the highlighting of this 1976 Ford Bronco.
Yes, it may be cool, but I wanted to remind you that it puts out roughly 20 times the amount of pollution that a more modern vehicle does. So if you buy one (or something similar)… for the sake of the air I breathe, please drive it just on Sundays.
* Thanks to Andrew Swanson for the site suggestion.
I invite you to mosey over to 300 Words a Day. My post there touches on one thing you might consider, as you get deeper into this new year.
I absolutely hate websites that make you click several times to read a single article. It’s simply nasty and mean to us, the readers.
So, website designers – if your boss or client asks you to do that for a site, please refuse. Think of the end user and respect their time.
(For the sake of naming & shaming, Automobile Magazine was the culprit, in this case.)
I have a story for you.
When Heather and I first went to Africa (1991), we were part of a 3-month-long training program that was designed to help us love Africa. And adjust to living there. Part of our training involved living with a family in rural Kenya for two weeks.
It was a stretching time, to say the least. We still keep in touch with one of the family members – which shows you it was a good experience, overall.
Anyhow, they ate dinner starting at about 9 pm. We were pretty tired by that time of the day, and listening to lively conversation in Kikamba (their language) for several hours was not always our choice of a relaxing way to end the day.
So one night – about halfway into our two weeks with them – just before dinner, Heather and I were chilling in our small room. Our guest knocked on the door to say it was dinnertime. I went to dinner alone. I said, “In our culture, it is wrong to wake someone when they are sleeping.” They bought it – after a little discussion on my part.
I knew she needed a break.
