Morning all:

” The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.” — H. L. Mencken

Okay, so a liberal presidential candidate, a conservative candidate, and a road weary business type fly into town and the gate agent says, “Hey, want to hear a good POTUS-08 joke?”, to which the business guy replies…….

Groan!

I am already very much up to here with all the political clap-trap we’re being bombarded with. The stump speeches remind me of the hysterical feminine energy projected by the ‘50s girl group, The Chantels (who by the way I did like). Please give me a break. Pour me another coffee would you.

I am always amazed it all works, but it does. The morning commute that is. Mile after mile, every forty feet or so a large SUV blasts along, and slouched behind the wheel is some guy, several yards of leather belt holding up his pants, still half asleep, constantly trying to switch from lane to lane. In other cars cruising among them, cigarettes in between their fingers are women busily applying their makeup. Occasionally some guy screams through while reading his morning meeting notes. And amazingly it all goes smoothly, at 70 mph, with only a very occasional fender bender.

Why then, earlier this week, did I see a State Trooper motorcycle officer, four feet off the high-speed lane pressed against a concrete barrier, with a radar gun pointing directly at us? It made no sense. It nearly made me late for work.

There were plans for the ladies to head south on Route 127 into Kentucky and scour a section of the Never Ending Yard Sale; a sale that stretches every year along the Route 127 corridor from Michigan through Alabama—792,000 yards long. Now the plans have changed. This week the tub on our 33 year old Maytag washer rusted through—they just don’t make them like they used to! So instead of hunting for another’s junk, we’re off to hunt for a new washer and dryer. Starting Sunday it’s tour time with a group here from Israel, first in town and then off to Green Bay, after which it’s a quick sales call in Toronto; I need clean socks.

The Pastoor clan are like rabbits. This week we welcomed Adriana as our newest niece. Congratulations Heather and Gene and the proud new Opa George and Nana Sandy.

That reminds me, trying to sell at our neighborhood yard sale a couple of weeks ago Marcia instead made an “investment”. A huge rabbit hutch now sits proudly in our back yard.

Actually, it looks great. The two wild rabbits making their home in our yard love to sit next to it while munching away.

Weekend after next brother Pieter will spend it with us, it’s become a bit of a tradition when he travels these parts. Pieter, remember that tradition is what you resort to when you don’t have the time or the money to do it right. Just kidding, we are really looking forward to your visit.

Make it a great week everyone.

Cheers,

Dirk