Due to the sparkling US economy, the company Martha works for has gone elsewhere in the world to find business. They finished a large contract in Panama City and have new ones in Brazil, Down Under, and
I looked up from my spaghetti and meatballs flambé (that's a nice way of saying dinner was burned) and asked, "Sylvania? Where, exactly, is Sylvania?"
"It's one of those countries near Yugoslavia. I have the address at work," Martha said.
"Do you mean Slovenia?" I suggested.
"Yeah, that's it! Geeze, Sylvania is where Dracula's from," she said, slapping her forehead while crunching on a forkful of spaghetti.
Martha is so darn cute when she's geographically- (and historically)-challenged. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Sylvania is a town in Finland where they make lightbulbs.
* * *PLANNING
Some dark humor is always good for me, so I'll tell you about my funeral plans—that is, if by chance I die one of these years.
Actually, I won't be having a funeral because I don't do church. Rather, Martha wants to hold a tasteful memorial service, so I've scribbled out a tentative plan for her.
2:25 p.m.: Attendees enter (estimated 3-4) and plop their rear-ends on a folding chair (consider a chair fee if anyone needs two or more).
2:30 p.m.: Opening song.
2:35 p.m.: Glowing testimonials about me from the attendees.
2:37 p.m.: Since everyone is too shy to glow or testify in front of people, then Closing song.
2:40 p.m.: Leavature.
Short, sweet, and out in fifteen minutes. That's the kind of memorial service I like.
You know, maybe I should leave the planning to Martha. She'll know what she wants to do.
* * *
Without an iota of doubt in my mind, I live in the dumbest state of all 52 of 'em (Iraq and Afganistan are the two newest). I live in Arizona, where
1. A gigantic wildfire is now burning down New Mexico. After two weeks, the fire is 10% contained.
2. The rainfall for the Phoenix metroplex has been one-half inch since January 1.
3. When it's this dry, most of the cities cancel their commercial 4th of July fireworks displays for fire safety.
4. The Arizona legislature doesn't give a shit about fire safety. This year, it passed a bill allowing the private sale of fireworks to individuals. No firecrackers, but plenty of stuff that flies into the sky. And burns the hands and faces off idiot kids. And start fires, especially if they tangle with all these tall palm trees.
5. Yesterday, the fireworks sales tents were setting up in the same locations where Christmas trees are sold—three weeks before the 4th of July. I wonder if the owners of these tents are members of the Arizona legislature; because of the sparkling AZ economy, graft has been down the past couple years.
* * *
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The mood was subdued around here last week with the passing of Molly. Thank y'all from Martha and me for your kind comments. I think we all gave the little critter a nice send-off.
In the middle of the week we received a sympathy card from the vet with this inside: a double impression of Molly's paw print. And then the tears started again . . .
Martha will be on the trail very soon for another rescue dog. There are so many who had "good" homes and then got dumped when the housing house of cards collapsed. The poor creatures are so lost, lonely, and confused, just like Irish was when we adopted him. We'll letcha know when we have a new family member.