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To: Ilaine who wrote (662)	3/2/2001 10:24:06 PM
From: PMS Witch	Respond to of 6901

Memories... You brought back memories. My sister had the crinolines, poodle skirts, and saddle shoes, while I was still in little kid clothes. The guy getting caught in the clothesline is priceless. Can picture it. Kids delight in scurrying unimpeded through barriers to adults. Cheers, PW.

To: Ilaine who wrote (662)	3/3/2001 1:08:13 AM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 6901

This is a rather long poem by Edwin Muir that re counts a WWII era and the return of work horses rather than machinery and turning back time to a more gentler one. (Oh yeah-- my brother called because of the quake--- HE said I exaggerated when I said Dad gave him a tablespoon of everclear and honey for his cold-- it was a teaspoon, and he did gag and it didn't help cure it.) The Horses Barely a tewlvemonth after The seven days war that put the world to sleep, Late in the evening the strange horses came. By then we had made our covenant with silence, But in the first days it was so still We listened to our breathing and were afraid. On the second day The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer. On the third day a warship passed us heading north, dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter Nothing. The radios dumb; And stil they stand in corners of our kitchens, And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms All over the world. But now if they should speak, If on a sudden they should speak again, If on the stroke of noon a voice should speak, We would not listen, we would not let it bring That old bad world that swallowed its children quick At one great gulp. We would not have it again. Sometimes we think of the nations lying asleep, Curled blindly in impenetrable sorrow, And then the thought confounds us with its strangeness. The tractors lie about our fields; at evening They look like dank sea-monsters couched and waiting. We leave them where they are and let them rust: 'They'll moulder away and be like other loam.' We make our oxen drag our ploughs, Long laid aside. We have gone back Far past our fathers' land. And then that evening Late in the summer the strange horses came. We heard a distant tapping on the road, A deepening drumming; it stopped; went on again And at the corner changed to hollow thunder. We saw the heads Like a wild wave charging and were afraid. We had sold our horses in our fathers' time To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield Or illustrations in a book of knights. We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited, Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent By an old command to find our whereabouts And that long-lost archaic companionship. In the first moment we had never a though That they were creatures to be owned and used. Among them were some half-a-dozen colts Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world, Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden. since then they have pulled our ploughs and borne our loads, But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts. Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.

To: Ilaine who wrote (662)	3/3/2001 12:39:43 PM
From: Volsi Mimir	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 6901

G'Morning CB --I would love a cup or a actually a small paper cup about 1/4 the reg size cup of Cuban espresso please- its like drinking a coffee and sugar syrup that stays on your tongue all day while you zip around getting things done. There are many ways of making it- like the espresso's but straight is best. And I do have K-Mart manners, he he. You are being nice to me. Think it gonna be the Mutha of all soon? Anyways dropping in for a story and gone- lots to do. A legal story. This is about a lady who is a muti-millionaire that decides to move from the Bay area to the hills outside of denver. The time frame is when there was a huge fire in Oakland and adjacent that spread door to door a few years ago. She was Gooood-looking and at 50 looked 29.<--she told me her age as we went thru her stuff being inventoried. She had a boy-toy, one of these handsome model guys who only had one purpose- to keep her happy, and he told us he gets the finest of things, cars, golf clubs, trips on and on just to do one thing- to keep her happy. She was originally from the east coast and now owns medical companies that her former husband had built up. Anyway the whole telling of this tale is this, when I was looking at her things- huge stuff- life -size statues of naked guys and custom furniture built- extra huge cabinets, 2 grand piano's (she liked duets), she told me looking me straight in the eye, after all this life and all she has, she only has two friends in her life- her accountant and her lawyer. That put the fear of the moving god in me, as you know no one likes movers or moving and she made it crystal clear that her intent was what I had or was learning from my ex-wife: I don't get mad I get even. Man, I drilled my guys to be the best- anything she wants, don't screw up. And we didn't. When we got to the hills of Denver, her driveway was so steep, her car (some fancy foreign I forgot-and probably just need a high-altitude tune up) was having a hard time making it so she went out and bought two 4X4 Jeep Cherokees that would. and we worked. Did fine.Theres more to the story but never had to find out about her two friends. But just in case you have some service work and can play the part- try the two friend approach, it will at least make them think. Thanks for the coffee.