Well, sheesh, I'm in a mood.
If I hear one more commercial by a law firm that refers to an arrest for drunk driving, also known as a DUI, as a "Dewey," I will shriek, stomp and consider picketing.
Well. Or turn off the TV.
A Dewey? Like it was something tiny and cute, instead of risking the lives of everyone on the highway who has the great misfortune of being in front of, behind, or next to a drunk behind the wheel?
"If you have received a Dewey, and require legal counsel, call us at . . ."
Pthllllll. And don't get me started on commercials for pharmaceuticals that are supposed to be the next best thing to heaven on earth, and after sounding like the answer to your prayers, count liver failure or death as possible side effects . . .
Gee, let me think: migraines or death?
Like I said: I'm in a mood.
While I have my dukes up, I see that I'm without much in the way of fingernails after watching the Women's World Cup Soccer playoffs. I wish with all my heart that the U.S. had won the trophy, like most of us in this country, and I snacked on my nails, wrung my hands and levitated off my couch (imagine), but if we had to lose, I'm glad it was to Japan.
Not an original sentiment, surely.
I'm thinking it was probably the first time the Japanese have had a reason to cheer since that earthquake and tsunami wiped out communities and wreaked havoc on the nuclear plant at Fukushima; I hope most of us feel this way - they deserve something to celebrate, something to jump up and down about, a time to laugh, a time for glee.
That's the stuff of healing. Good for them.
But back to my rant: Fiends are online and in my mailbox.
This morning, I received an email from a woman who said she was the widow of a preacher and she had a bunch of money in trust that she wanted to donate and, wonder of wonders, I was on her list. All she needed from me was my Social Security number . . .
What? Because I'm officially a senior citizen people think my shoe size and my IQ are a match?
Pthllllll. And how creepy to sneak God into the equation via her dead preacher husband.
Let me at 'er.
OK, I'm exhausted. Bad moods do that. I'm going to lean in the other direction.
Our landscape guy and his helper are creating a sort of patio area in the backyard. They've dug up the grass that was mostly dandelions and moss anyway, put down a layer of river sand, and are laying down big slabs of limestone around a circular plot that's planted with thyme.
In the center of this aromatic plot is a concrete birdbath.
The good idea here is to make this acre as maintenance-free as possible and maybe even discourage Fearless Leader's No. 1 nemesis, which would be moles.
I'm trying not to even entertain the thought, but I know in my heart that one day we'll find one of those limestone slabs askew because a gang of moles had a point to make. (Are we certain there wasn't an error in translation? Not the meek, according to the beatitudes, but the moles who'll inherit the earth? I wonder.)
But never mind. Things are looking pretty nifty out back, and I'm already in a better mood.
Well, crankiness behind me, and I'm going to turn on the TV and tune into "The Ellen Degeneres Show" and dance. I'm going to get a little feel-good on me and have a nice little laugh. Ellen's off-the-wall sense of humor always makes for a better afternoon.
I'll leave you to your own devices.
"So, if you have received a Dewey and require legal counsel, call us at . . . "
* Lynne Horner is a former Maui News features editor and writer who now lives in Springfield, Ore. Her "Second Thoughts" column appears every Tuesday. Send e-mail to her at email@example.com.