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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: jpmac who wrote (11469)	7/18/1998 9:23:00 AM
From: Rambi	Respond to of 71178

Well, if the little old ladies were like my little old parents were, they adored Nixon. No wonder you were a hit. So what book did they discuss? Did you serve lemonade and little tea cakes? Wow---that just brought back my dream from last night!!!! I was back in college. Only it was not really Westhampton, which was a very proper girls' school in its own right, but not this bad. we had to wear hats and dresses and gloves. (in the dream, although actually we did have to for receptions and teas) And we had tea every afternoon at 4 at hte Deanery. And on the way, I said "This is the way college should be". I was walking in back of a girl named Nancy who had a braid hanging all the way to the ground and I said, "You're getting your hair dusty." ANd she said,"I haven't had it cut since we graduated." ANd I whispered to Rin, my old roomie, who was walking next to me, "It's too bad she doesn't know she won't live to see 40." Which was true. But really, it was so tasteless of me to say that in a dream.

To: jpmac who wrote (11469)	7/18/1998 2:34:00 PM
From: Gauguin	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

It's Saturday! Oh boy! Cartoons on tv; Mower Mania outside. So much for rest. It's like the skies over Berlin. I rudely named the guy with the 1/2 acre of lawn (honest) across the street, who's probably a very nice guy, "Mr Mow-it-All." What does a person need with one half acre of grass? (Clubs.) He mows, which ought to do, and then he mows that way; and SOMETIMES HE MOWS THAT WAY, TOO. Hours, and hours, and hours. Then an hour of weed whacking on the hill facing my house (my neurons love the sound: "The Flight of The Bumblebee-Plus"); an hour more of whirr-and-stirr bay laurel hedge aligning (accompaniment: aluminum ladder banging); and finally "A Homelite Humming Nap-time Lullaby." Mow-it-All picks things up with country music on the outdoor speakers when HE can hear it. I will continue to write this post until he stops. So here, let me give you guys his phone number. Tell his wife it's an emergency, because he won't hear the phone, and when he runs in the house I'll stuff a spear thru his 6.5 hp Stradivarius. (See? It was an emergency.) As I part the brush back to the house ~ mindful not to expose my Weismuller "computer-bench press" buttocks from beneath my bouncing loincloth ~ the "Blower-Boys Landscaping" truck, pulls up next door. Three or four backpacks of bliss. A WHOLE VAN full of power 'quipment. The Orchestra.They're all wearing smiles, pinstripe red and white shirts, and safety headphones. I'm just sitting here, peacefully 'cept for those blurting pustules on my ears, with naught but a window pane for sonic shielding. Sorry. Anyone else long for some SILENCE? SILENCE? HOW BOUT SOME SILENCE; HAW??? HEY YOU! SHUT THE TRUCK UP! I SAID SHUT THE TRUCK UP!!! YES, DANNY, I'M TALKIN TO YOU, AND MARK AND JIMMY AND TROY! saw-ry. (Where is Rachel Carson when you need her?) Yah, and great. The screaming ambulance just went by, because the small town hospital is a block over, and it really upsets or interests the new hound ("Ballboy") next door. So he starts in, hoooooooo oooooh hoooooooowoooooooo, like they're already dead.