Taunting was not only accepted, but viewed as a crucial part of the play-to-win process. A well-played hand that produced an unexpected loss for your opponents had to be accompanied by a well-played barb, and if you were on the losing end you were expected to respond in kind. It was all part of the game, and if you didn’t like the insult process you just shouldn’t play.
This is all well and good when card playing is confined to the family unit. It’s a bit uncomfortable when you sit down to play an innocent game of euchre with friends and realize that your inner asshole sees the deck of cards and concludes that it’s time for him to make an appearance.
The Gleeful Retiree and his lovely wife graciously invited me to join a group for a visit to their beautiful Put-In-Bay place on the shores of Lake Erie this weekend. We stayed up to the wee hours last night, talking and catching up, and I slept with the windows open, enjoying the breeze and the ever-present murmurs of the Lake in the background. I think you never sleep so well as you do around water.
Today dawned bright and clear, to the accompaniment of gull cries, surf sounds, and the whistle of a brisk wind.
Richard has an interesting story in the Chicago Tribune about vermiculture: that is, worm composting. I’m all in favor of composting and reducing our waste footprint, and using the lowly worm to accomplish that important goal seems like a good idea to me.
As always, I learned something from reading Richard’s story. For example:
Worms eat about a third of their body weight a day, and great compost packed with nutrients comes out the other end.
Charles Darwin was a big fan of worms, and wrote that he doubted “there are many other animals which have played so important a part in the history of the world.”
Worms are temperamental, and one lazy worm can turn an entire worm colony into a bunch of malingerers.
Worms apparently will eat just about anything, including burlap and scrap paper.
Remember the useful aspects of our worm friends, and be sure to sweep them off the driveway after the next big rainstorm rather than pulverizing them into the asphalt!
I’ve always liked acorns, ever since I was a kid. When I saw this perfect little acorn on one of my walks around the Yantis Loop, one of hundredsof acorns that had fallen onto the walking path, it got me to thinking about acorns in poetic terms. This bit of doggerel was the result.
The Humble Acorn
With jaunty cap, in splendid green,
The humble acorn pleads to be seen.
And yet, the opposite is true,
‘Tis one of many, not one of few.
Come fall, they drop like rain from sky
And coat the ground as we pass by.
With its fellows, each acorn lies
Unnoticed by our hurried eyes.
The humble acorn accepts its fate
And knows not what may await.
But humble acorn! This I know,
A mighty oak from acorn doth grow.