...Come in, please! I should look up some statistics on lawn mowing accidents from cutting the grass in bare feet, I suppose. But the lawn is mostly flat, mostly, and the mower does have a stop bar so if I let go of the handle it shuts off in, like, a millisecond or two at the outside. Besides, it feels good even thought there is plenty of weedy stuff to prick my tender soles. And they are tender, hardly ever get barefoot anymore outside the confines of four walls. So I should toughen the peds up a little, in case I ever have to escape in a fire or some other disaster and don't have time to hunt up footwear. Grass-hardened feet will be a real asset in that scenario, guaranteed.
I don't know what else to add today. I think about stuff all day long that I think might be amusing, to myself, at least, and then until I get planeted in front of the keys I've forgotten any nuggets of joy that might otherwise be reposited herein.
Back to the feet, in addition to callusing the soles for emergency use, barefootedness has got to be good for circulation, posture, what else? Just one's general well-being, I would think. Getting tactile with the earth and all. Same goes for tree climbing and skipping rocks in a creek. Well, technically I guess you skip rocks on a creek not in a creek.
Speaking of getting in touch with nature, PBS Fresh Air repored on a documentary called Grizzly Man this afternoon on the way home from work. Chronicles thirteen years of grizzly observation in Alaska by a fellow named Treadwell. Seems he had real issues with people- who doesn't at one point or another?!? -and preferred the company of bears. Not close company like an ursine Jane Goodall or anything but filming them and recording his feelings about them and so forth. Sad to say, he ultimately met his end at the paws of an apparently unfriendly- and hungry -grizzly. Ow-uch.
It was interesting to hear the director's commentary in one place because, unlike Treadwell who was so invested in the bears' personalities and his own familiarity with many individual creatures, this impartial observer saw only 'dispassionate, almost bored indifference in the bears' blank stare', to paraphase his eloquent obversations. Oh, and hunger too. Smart man, I think.
And speaking of 'fresh air', I treated the Hyundai's cloth seats with Febreze again today. I like cloth seats in a car but they're not so great when you climb in all sweated up after work and keep the windows closed to keep the dust out and then run AC continually because it's like a veritable pizza oven outside lately. If I'm not mistaken, Febreze is actually a suspension of teeny, weeny bug things that, once they're exposed to air, come to life and get busy eating the teeny, weeny particulate matter that retains that stale, closed-in, odoriferous scent way down deep in the seats. Cool.
Finally, in another case of misplaced product placement, I brought home a half gallon of Turkey Hill Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream this week and a bag of Frito-Lay Premium Mixed Nuts to add in with the ice cream. I do this because Ben & Jerry's long ago ceased production of their Dibert brand ice cream, Totally Nuts; white hazelnut ice cream that was loaded, nay, polluted with nuts! Peanuts, brazil nuts, walnuts, macadamias, you name it, if it is classified a nut, it was in there. Did I mention I love nuts? I do. (My wife will verify this fact, ba-dum-dum! In fact, she and her nearly as wacky sister did so quite readily and without prodding at dinner last night, remarking upon my entree of shrimp in a honey walnut sauce...) Cashews not so much, but everything else, yum. Plus it featured big, big chunks of white chocolate. I might almost maybe give up meat if they would bring it back and I could live on it without blowing up like a white Fat Albert. But I digress...
As you no doubt know, most nuts are, if not cheap, not extravagantly priced. The notable exception being white macadamia nuts(do they come in other colors?!?)as they are apparently hydroponically grown in a super-secret space lab in hidden orbit behind the moon. Thus the supply is always dwindling between super-secret space flights and shuttle disasters to the point where only the super-rich can afford them. And then they have to keep it super-secret where they get them. Which is why you never saw Paris Hilton eating them on that show, what was it called? Road Trip with Clueless, Spoiled Rich Girls or whatever... All I know is they used Green Acres theme music and now Eddie Albert is dead, you do the math!
The point is Frito-Lay's Premium Mixed Nuts- it was a teeny bag, I'll grant, still it was around two bucks. Not a fortune but I could have four hot dogs for the same price at that fine establishment. Or two Big Grab bags of some variety of potato chip. Or... -Anyway, the point was, is, that it contained exactly two, two lousy macadamias. And one of the two was no bigger than your average green pea, no lie.
Am I a little non-plussed? I say 'Yes'. I think on my next foray into the Turkey Hill store I will make a point of learning the Frito-Lay company's consumer comment 800 number so that I might voice my displeasure to the appropriate degree and to someone with real authority to right this wrong posthaste. Or know the reason why. And, if I receive no satisfaction, henceforth I will refer to said company as 'Cheat-O Lay'. Unpleasant but factual, I think.
Holy "'We're burnin' daylight!', said John Wayne!" I gotta go finish cutting the grass!
