Overheard at the Rolling Sculpture car show downtown on the Planet Ann Arbor tonight.

I read about the car show earlier and I was actually kind of excited about it since we would be down there anyway for dinner at the Oscar Tango. I am not really all that interested in cars, although I’m always a little surprised at how many models I recognize. I suppose that’s a function of growing up in a family with two car freaks. Me, I am particular about which cars I buy. I will pay a bit more to get something reliable, Honda being my all-time fave at this point although I do like the Frog Hopper a lot. I also have opinions about colors sometimes (mauve would not be my choice). But I tired quickly tonight and that’s then I remembered that I really couldn’t care less about looking at a bunch of old cars. Given that the name of the show was Rolling Sculpture, I was kind of hoping to see vee-hickles like the Lizard Car, which was completely covered with toy lizards. I suppose it’s long dead, having rolled through the streets of the planet back when the beach urchins were grade school students. The GG was much more interested but then he put himself through college by building vee-hickles over at the Hamtramck Assembly plant.

I watched people instead. The Commander used to be a big people-watcher. When my old coot was stuck down in the Henry Ford Hoosegow, she could tell me in great detail about the fantastical shoes all of the folks were wearing. I’m not sure she could always figure out who had what job. I can’t for the life of me remember what shoes people were wearing but I definitely read their name tags, not that it much mattered since we were constantly rotated through about a gazillion different docs and nurses, etc. during his stay there. The Comm could be pretty darn judgmental about other people’s physical characteristics sometimes. When I was younger it could be funny but I was usually annoyed by it those last few years. But here I am, wondering whether I do it too…

Okay, the GG’s chosen internet entertainment for the evening was a video where a very young girl (teenager?) is demonstrating how to insert a feeding tube into *herself*. I was dumbfounded at first. I wondered if it was a prank. I also had a bit of PTSD going on, remembering the day I sat around in The Comm’s hoosegow room up there at War Memorial listening as a 93-year-old stroke victim across the hall refused a feeding tube several times by ripping it out (he couldn’t speak). In the end, I changed my mind about the video. The girl needed to learn to put her own feeding tube in to cope with some kind of illness or condition that was not disclosed. She was a pro at doing it *and* demonstrating it and I greatly admire her poise.

And that there in the photoooo is none other than the Pickle Finger and I’m not even gonna try to explain that tonight except that its real name is Light 26.

G’night! Farmer’s Market in the morning then household drudgery for the duration. How does it get so cluttered around here so fast?

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