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Live from Oikos mou

July 28, 2008

I thought it good to preserve some of those priceless fragments of conversation that drift, milkweed seed-like, through our house and garden. . . .

While picking raspberries:

“What will people do who don’t have savings and don’t own homes?”

“They’ll get bailed out.”

“But then everyone else’s money will be worth even less!”

“Like Zimbabwe.”

“Yeah, where a pizza’s $850 million today and going up 27,000% a day.”

* * *

Kitchen to living room:

“The only thermos we have in our fleet that’s not made in China is my Zojirushi, that’s made in Japan. Made in Japan is classy now. Once China becomes classy, where will the next crumball manufacturing colony be?”

“The U.S.”

Marshwiggle.”

* * *

Kitchen:

“Whatever happened to those color-coded terror alerts? I can’t imagine what it’s like to be red-green colorblind and have to wake up in the morning and not know how scared you’re supposed to be.”

“I think they took down the colors and ceremonially folded them.”

* * *

Next day, home to office via email:

“The colors, they’re back; see?  Thank goodness. Now can I dress for the day knowing what color our terror level is.”

* * *

Dining room:

“Reading Jonah Goldberg’s book I have learned that all our law school heroes were fascists. Learned Hand was a friend of Theodore Roosevelt’s, and Felix Frankfurter thought Herbert Croly was the deity of American Progressivism.”

“Yes, I think you can take it as a rule of thumb that anyone our law professors praised was bad, and likely fascist.”

* * *

“So how long do you think I could live on whole wheat linguini and Chocolate Mousse Royale ice cream?”

“With three meat servings a week, probably forever, proper qualifiers applying.”

“I wonder why Tacoma has no real ice cream parlor. Seattle has Gelatiamo. Missoula had Hansen’s. Tacoma has Coldstone Creamery, which infuses fat into its ice cream the way Starbucks infuses caffeine into its coffee. And they don’t serve sandwiches and coffee and their service is geared to low-IQ four-year-olds.  Baskin Robbins doesn’t serve coffee and sandwiches. You can’t call what Dairy Queen serves ice cream. Face it, we live in a town that has no responsible ice cream parlor. How did this happen?”

“It wasn’t high on the list when we came.”

“Right. I only like ice cream about every five years. I must not have been in a liking-ice cream cycle then. Can we move to Minneapolis? They have Bridgeman’s.”

“No.”

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