My dream is that a hundred years from now we will live in a world of peace. Then, people of all nationalities will look back at the insanity of war and say "what were they thinking?"
Readers, enjoy your Memorial Day.
One of the many things that drives me crazy is the selling of real estate. The actual selling is fairly easy - you call a Realtor, he/she pounds the sign in your front yard, then in a few weeks a buyer hands you over the dough and kicks you out of your home. Simple, really.
The annoyance comes when people walk by your home and you happen to be standing there in full view of the "for sale" sign. The curious passers-by cannot contain themselves and must ask a question. One would think that they would ask a question about the square footage or the number of baths or how many times the exterminator has been to your home to kill bugs and vermin.
The ubiquitous question that is asked by passers-by is the most annoying thing that they can possibly ask and has to do with the sale rather than the character of your home. And, like a twenty minute drum solo played by your ten-year old nephew, here it comes and there's nothing you can do about it.
You see them approaching with a high level of curiosity on their faces. Soon their lips start to move. Here it comes:
Let's think for a moment about the meaning of the word "nibbles". A nibble is in one sense a fishing term to denote a fish that is stealing your bait with no intention of really commiting to chomping down on the hook and getting caught. In another sense "nibble" connotes someone taking a small bite of food. When I think of nibblers I think of people who are at a buffet line picking up various items, taking small bites to sample them, deciding that they don't care for the taste, then putting them back in the buffet for the next nibbler to sample. Ewwwwwwww.
In any sense of the word, nibblers are an annoyance.
Now that I have had my daily rant, I'll tell you about my bike ride yesterday. It was a fabulous day and the tourists had not as yet made their yearly Memorial Day migration to the mountains. While riding the deserted trail I saw a lone fisherman rhythmically casting his dry fly along the clear blue waters of the river. I called out to him...
I couldn't resist.
Readers, enjoy your day.