Donna at KGMom Mumblings posted on a hot topic today relating to concerns of fuel conservation and consumption. We all agree that people in general have become lazy and should walk to their destinations more often, but I couldn’t help but address the automotive industry and what they could offer, too. It brought to my mind a photo I took about a month ago of an affordable alternative to gas guzzling machines we purchase.
Hey, it’s something to consider! I was thinking of Susan’s wish to drive a conservative vehicle and I wouldn’t mind scooting back and forth to work in something like this. If my husband reads this, I’ll be in trouble. He’d investigate this little buggy to save on our gasoline bill and we could certainly afford my protective gear, if that’s the case. I can’t help but laugh out loud at the mental picture of myself, with helmet, driving a battery-powered tricycle!
The sprinkler gave this mockingbird a thrill to its back end over the weekend. “Ah, oh, ah, yes!” I wish I had focused well enough to get the spray.
“Come closer. I smell sooo good.”When the mothers of the world insist on a 9pm bedtime for their little pre-adolescent girls and tell them to GET OFF THE PHONE, Sanjaya will meet the end of his road. The producers of American Idol are eating this up as seen by Ryan Seacrest sporting a Mohawk on last night’s results show. Sanjaya will probably be singing (if that’s what you call it) for a few more weeks because the news media loves drama. This has to end. If Melinda Doolittle or Jordin Sparks aren’t in the final show, I will undoubtedly quit AI. There are some talented guys on the show who deserve more kudos than that little boy. Does anyone else agree with me?
If Tom at Monarch photographs Stinky Bugs, I can photograph bugs, too. On the concrete sidewalk at work, I saw a beetle. Knowing that I’d be cooped up inside due to weather with few photo opportunities, I thought about getting my camera. The beetle was lodged in a sidewalk crack so I thought I’d help it out. I just can’t get used to the feel of beetle legs pinching my fingers. Gives me the willies.
It’s out of the sidewalk crack and I’m on my knees, butt high, trying to focus on a better shot. Behind me, the police cadets arrived quickly and quietly from their four mile run. I only heard the huffing and puffing of their breath and their shoes on the parking lot as they grouped in formation within a few seconds. Did they need to see me in such a position? I wonder what they were thinking… My last shot:
Back in the crack. CLUNK. I thought, “You’re on your own. I’m outta here!”
I am sane. I am sane. Sure, I am sane.