Back from the hinterlands
"When the van is full, it's time to head home." At least Mrs. Philosopher didn't spot a U-Haul dealer before we were well on the way back to the barn. Now I'll have to wait a month before she fully removes the selection of prime junque which she acquired on our jaunt. Next year she's threatening a a visit to the Route 127 yard sale. My observation is that unless she learns to drive a 18 wheeler, she won't last more than a mile or two.

As for politics, we didn't go looking for it and mostly it didn't find us. I would have to say that small town America loves the troops based on the copious displays of flags and yellow ribbons at homes, businesses, and schools. (Apparently the NEA hadn't gotten to the latter.) However, standing in line at an old mining town's Volunteer Fire Department sale of fresh cooked bleenies, the locals were grousing about the useless mayor, the incompetent police department, and President Bush wasting money on rebuilding Iraq and fooling around in Liberia. Mrs. Philosopher innocently inquired whether that meant they were Hillary fans and the howls of distaste for "that crook" amazed us. When asked who they did like, the Volunteer Fire Department seemed to be about it. That's the kind of folks I like - grumpy.

Blogging will recommence shortly at a suitably mellow pace.