Publicserf: 2003-08-10

Okay no blog last night, let me explain.
The Tyranny of Pigs, and the Meaning of Life

I got home and as soon as I walk in the front door the pig whistling starts. They seem to be led by the brown and white one, Buddy Jr. (Buddy Jr. is a female and she’s…. conflicted). I make it to the kitchen, they keep whistling, I turn around to get them the greens they have become accustomed to. The wife says, “Oh no, don't do that. They were outside all afternoon they shouldn't be hungry.” They keep whistling for a few minutes.

The Superwife makes Hungry Jack casserole. Ms. Pikachu is ecstatic. If you're not familiar- Hungry Jack Casserole starts with a layer of baked beans and hamburger mixed with barbecue sauce and onions. Then it’s covered by biscuits and topped off with a layer of cheese.

All Ms. Pikachu could say was "It's just a big pile of gas material. I am going to fart all night." I told her she would fart alone. Not much to say, but it was all I could think of.

Trainboy got caught up in the excitement too. "I'm going to fart too!" Dreams of tooting like a steam engine’s whistle I imagine. “Toot! Toot! I love that sound!

After we stuffed ourselves with the stuff stars are made of the Holywife informed me some group of spiritual people were gathering at some spiritual retreat and they were going to walk a spiritual symbol in prayer. Uh huh, yeah, whatever. When do we leave?

The kids did not want to go. It was just the two of us. We went to the prayer thing, when we got there nearly everybody was already gone. Imagine that, we were late. It was on a large acreage within city limits- a nice piece of ground, it’s only a matter of time before they sell out and it's all put under concrete. That would be a conversion to a shrine to the Almighty Dollar. But you knew that.

Anyway, we headed out on the nature trail and communed with nature. The communing consisted of a deer that ran away, various wild flowers, and mosquitoes. The mosquitoes did not run away. Mother nature can be a bit bloodthirsty, even while you're trying to center yourself and achieve oneness with the oneness.

The event was to walk through a labyrinth. Think of a circle about 30 feet across with one entrance into the circle. Inside the circle is a maze with only one route that will use the entire circle.

The trail was marked by a single line of bricks and was only one brick high- easy to follow, tempting to cheat. Careless travelers had stepped on some of them, bumping them over or misaligning them. Can't have that; have to put them back where they belong. We will leave it better than we found it. As I do the wife gets out ahead of me.

The wife stops and asks, "Didn't you say that bending over makes your eyesight worse? Why are you doing that?" I tell her I am not bending over, I'm squatting, so my head stays up. It needs to be done, and I'm doing it. I continue to walk the path and it isn't long before she bends over to straighten a brick. Ah, love.

The seeker of truth turns and turns, sometimes in the direction you want to go, sometimes not. Sometimes you get sand in your shoes. When you get to the center, why you've reached it. Then you turn around and go out the way you came, spiritually thankful there's no door to hit you on the butt on your way out. Hmmm, a deep thought, this is what we came for.

There is a bell to ring. It can be rung at the start or end of the journey. Supposedly it reverberates with the oneness. Maybe so. But it seems to me that if there are eight notes there is a higher chance of striking discord. Add in sharps and flats and the odds get even worse. What about the Superwife, suppose it works for me but doesn’t for her? It would seem an awfully selfish act then. The odds for total satisfaction seem long indeed. I do not ring the bell. I will ring the bell if there’s $40 million or more at stake.

On the way home She tells me we can pick up the equipment for installing the refrigerator’s ice machine. As we near the Mecca of DIY she asks, “Menards, or Home Depot?” I tell her either will do, certain that oneness will be attained whichever way she chooses. Home Depot it is.

We get a filter, some copper tubing and a length of ½ inch PVC pipe for the water line. We’re running out of time. Our friendly customer helper asks what we need for joints. The fridge is above the main fuse box. Code does not allow water pipe within three feet of the fuse box. Quick guess, six elbows and a tee and we’re done.

On the way home I realize I’d forgotten a shut-off valve, necessary for the filter changes, and a cap- unless we want a fountain in the kitchen. We did not achieve oneness. Oneness is not achieved in a rush.

We get home and the whistling starts again. They whistle and whistle. Buddy Jr. climbs on top of her hut, stands on her rear feet and whistles like Benita Mussolini inspiring the masses. The others gather around. Benita whistles and nods. The genuflecting hairballs whistle in response. It almost sounds like “Duce, Duce, Duce!”

Needing to head off the revolt I go outside and gather dandelion and plantain greens. I place them in their boxes, and even Il Duce shuts up and eats. It’s a sad thing to admit, but sometimes achieving civil peace is nothing more than bread and circuses.

Supermom and Ms. Pikachu head off to read before bed. Trainboy watches a video. I sit on the couch to keep him company, and fall asleep before he does. And that’s why I didn’t blog last night.

Hungry Jack Casserole (The stuff stars are made of)
Brown together and drain:
1 lb hamburger
½ cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped green pepper

Add:
¾ cup barbecue sauce
2-1 lb cans pork and beans
2 T brown sugar

Heat and pour into 9/13” pan. Top with a tube of biscuits or crescent rolls (unrolled).
Cover biscuits with 1 cup Cheddar cheese (shredded).
Bake at 375 for 25-30 minutes.

Best served with sides of Beano and acidophilus.
Airwick makes a delightful centerpiece.

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