"Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?" - George Carlin

Note: this post was written in stages throughout the day. It's now 7 a.m. and we hope to have kids by the end of the day. So if this post seems even more disconnected than normal that's explains it.

A headline on Politico.com: "NFL caves to Trump." That is, they're blaming the new anthem policy on pressure from President Trump. Never mind that viewership last season was down 9.7% and that the loss of income poses a real problem to teams that pay players millions of dollars in order to generate billions.
It couldn't be that a large segment of the population (including me) abandoned the league over the protests. Naw, it had to be Trump, who makes a much better fall guy.
IMO it is this cultural deafness from the press and social elites that gave us Trump in the first place. They don't get it/us.

I went in to Midgely's this morning to set up the delivery and installation of our new wood stove and stopped by Home Depot on the way home to get some molding. I parked next to a very nice black Subaru WRX-sti. For the non-fanatics among you that is a VERY hot little sedan - AWD, turbo charged, 305 hp, zero to 60 mph in 5.3 seconds, and more. A nice one like this is a thing of beauty and I stopped to admire it hoping the owner would come out while I was there. Because I couldn't just stand there and drool I went inside, did my shopping, and came out to find the owners loading their purchases into the trunk.
"You are NOT who I expected to be driving this. Please tell me this is your grandson's car."
She took offense! They were easily in their 70's, very friendly, and we talked for several minutes. She's the one who pushes the right pedal (there are three) and they've owned it since new...2009. The thing was spotless. It's technically his car but she prefers it to her Miata (also with three pedals) and drives it whenever she can.
My take-away: there's still hope I'll get my performance car some day.

At 4:30 p.m. Sundae looks no closer to kidding than she did two days ago when I thought it was imminent. I talked to Marta this morning and she said she's only had one doe kid on her due date, which is today for Sundae. She said the average is 154 days, not the by-the-book 150. That puts Sundae giving birth on Sunday which seems both appropriate and problematic given that I'm preaching Sunday. Thankfully, VIF Marta said she'll come to attend the momma if that's how it works out.

Manners were a big deal in my childhood home and I think table manners were drilled into us as soon as we were old enough to sit at the table. Step One: put your napkin in your lap. Your left hand (we were all righties) stayed there, too. The only time you used your left hand was to hold your fork in the proper manner while using a knife with your right hand to cut the meat. If you wanted a drink you put your fork down and picked up your glass with your right hand. No two-fisted eating! Elbows on the table was unthinkable as was chewing with your mouth open or talking with food in your mouth. We didn't take a bite of food until mom was seated and had taken her first bite. When your plate was clear of all food (you weren't done until it was) you put your fork on the plate and your hands in your lap. "May I please be excused" was the only acceptable procedure for leaving the table.

There is one - and only one - correct way to hold a knife or spoon in your right hand. The end of the handle should rest above the crotch of your thumb/first finger union with the stem of the utensil held by the thumb, index and middle fingers. (I don't know why the person in this pic has choked down on the fork so much.)

Thou Shalt NOT hold the spoon or fork like a club. I'm pretty sure even a club shouldn't be held like that. Maybe when we were 6 months old and just learning to use utensils it was allowed but I doubt it. I think my mother would have put any one of us up for adoption had we held a spoon or fork like that.

Which is why at 67 I'm feeling so much like a rebel.

I sometimes have second breakfast, a bowl of cold cereal. I will also have the same thing an hour or two after dinner if I decide I shouldn't fill the void in my stomach with brownies or cardamom toast. I'm not sure when, but sometime in the last year it occurred to me that it makes no sense to hold a spoon like the first picture when eating a bowl of anything. That grip puts your hand below the spoon and makes it hard to get anything out of the bottom of a bowl more than 2" deep. The club grip puts your hand above the utensil and makes it much easier for me to get the the spoon down into the bowl to get the cereal and milk out.

It is some indication of the power of parenting that 60 years later I still feel guilty - like I'm sinning - when I hold my spoon like a club. Even as I type this I'm thinking it's a good thing my 95-year old mother doesn't read my blog. She'd be apoplectic to know I'm holding my spoon wrong (for it is indeed wrong in the moral sense of that word).
It makes sense to hold the spoon in the way that works best. But my mother would say manners aren't about what makes sense, they're about what's right.
And dad would say, "Do what your mother says or we can take a trip to the bathroom." (You can guess what happened there, and it had nothing to do with relieving yourself.)

I am a prisoner of my upbringing.
(Aren't we all.)