NSA releases private text messages

NSA releases private text messages.  Needs public’s help.

Washington D.C. - The National Security Agency, the NSA, is the secret governmental agency that the world became aware of, thanks to Mr. Edward Snowden, who exposed the NSA’s program to monitor every telephone and email transmission.  Recently the NSA inexplicably released to the public the text messages between two private citizens, identified only as:  Your Intrepid Traveler, Bill, and his wife Gwen, the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler. The story was that Bill was returning from a business trip and had a short layover in Tokyo due to canceled flight. This was a convenient, yet implausible cover story, based on the intercepted text messages.  

The rambling messages between husband and wife, were analyzed by the NSA.  It was determined that there had to be imbedded code words in the communications regarding state secrets from Japan, which is the United States’ most important strategic partner in Asia.  It was feared that this information, once decoded, could have devastating effects on the relationship between these two great nations.  

The presumed accidental leaking of these text messages have left many people wondering how this data breach occurred.  However, it is now being reported that the NSA, puzzled by the odd messages, took the extraordinary steps to ask the public for assistance to interpret these communications.  Please help.  Tell the NSA what these mysterious messages might mean. You do not need to contact the NSA.  Just speak slowly and carefully into your phone.  The NSA is listening.

Beginning of text messages, apparently while boarding the plane from Mumbai to Tokyo:

G- I hope you don’t have culture shock when u get to Japan.

B – Me? Surely you jest.  I have no culture to get shocked.     B - How do you say thank you in Japanese?

G – Arigato:  sorta like saying alligator only more choppy, and without the swamp.

B - How do you say “we’re all counting on you“, in Japanese?

G- If a train is leaving Philly at 2.3 miles per hour and a plane is leaving Mumbai at 544 mph, what are the chances that your flight is canceled?

B- 100%?  Gotta Go.  Luv u

G - I love you too.

Text messages traveling from Narita Airport to Tokyo, Japan:

B – Just landed at Narita.  On the taxi way….no culture shock yet.

G- Give it time.   Maybe you’re too shocked to know you’re shocked

B- Japanese flight attendant thanked us for “frying”.   I thought I smelled cooking.

G – Watch out, they’ll Roos your Ruggage!

B – You are sooo uncultured.  There are no kangaroos here.

G – Just big cuddly Koalas

G – My phone can’t do numbers and punctuation at the same time.

B – Damn phone.  Mine can’t talk and chew gum at the same time.

Later text messages from train going from Airport to city center:

B- I am on the express train to Tokyo.  When I bought the ticket the lady said where to?  I said to buy a cup of coffee.  She said R U crazy?  I think she was Canadian

B – I think I spotted Joshua.  Isn’t he Caucasian?

B – It’s a lot darker over here than in TX.  Oh wait, we were in a tunnel.

B – Lots of agriculture here.   Don’t they use human waste for fertilizer?  Remind me not to eat any raw vegetables .

B – How do you like my running commentary?   You wouldn’t get this kind of reporting from Tom Brokaw.   

B-   Where R the pandas?

G – You are not in the right country for Pandas.  This damn phone hardly knows any words.

B – I know…They are all vegetarians here.  They only eat Pandas in China

G- I worked out in the woods today.  Now I am going to have a hot bath and a bourbon and soda.

B – Wait for me!

B - This is a very quiet train.  I guess because everyone is wearing surgical masks.  I feel so naked without one.

G – I am sure they are in wonder at seeing a big Texan

B – They wonder about me.  You are correct.

G – Don’t you have other people you should be texting?  I hate to monopolize all your humor.

B – You are the only one who doesn’t charge me $ to text to.  And I only have 2 thumbs.    One is cramping up.

G – They must think you are sending important messages to many business associates.

B – MUST.  CONTINUE.  TO.  TEXT.  TO.  YOU.  UNTIL. BOTH.   GIVE   OUT.

B- Actually there is hardly anyone on the train.  I was hoping to be wedged in there with a 1,000 other travelers, like I’ve seen on TV, but no.  I guess I should delete that from my bucket list.

G – Here are some words I am trying to teach my phone:  texting, panda, Texan, and damn.  Guess which one I say the most while trying to use this phone?

B – Probably Damn.  ?  Was that a trick question?

G – If I texted it as often as I say it, those keys would quit working.  OK, Texan it doesn’t know. But when I want to say keys, it suggests Jews.  I wish I could capitalize letters.  I can’t do emoticons either. So imagine a sad face here.

B – OK, get a better phone or learn to shout really loudly.    

B - The houses along the track are cement block with tile roofs.  How can I play Godzilla and rip off a roof if it is not made of paper?   

B - Do you read Japanese left to right?  Never mind.  I can’t read the Characters anyway.

G– I think right to left, top to bottom.  I did not know you could read.

B – We just went thru a train station.  All the people waiting looked like zombie’s who were headed into surgery.

G – Why would zombies need surgery?  It’s not like they’re gonna get any better.

B – Good point.  Maybe the surgical mask is just a fashion statement.

B – If a zombie and a vampire were fighting, who would win?     This is just a rhetorical question.  We know they really get along well

G – If they were old fashioned slow zombies the vampires would win.  Modern quick zombies. Like in WWZ?  My $ is on the zombies.

B- You are putting way too much thinking into that.  Have another drink

G – Is it legal to put maraschino cherries into a bourbon and soda?  Cause I just did.  Yeah, that’s the kind of wild thing I do when you’re not around.

B – You live on the edge.  This is why I love you …You make me feel alive.

B – Don’t wait for me to stop texting.  You can take your bath. I will keep going even after my battery dies.  That’s what a professional does.

B – They sell Toyotas here!  Those cars are everywhere.

G- Wow, I finally found the magic secret of attraction. Maraschino cherries in bourbon.  I’ll have to tell Dr. Phil

B – You are gonna have to explain that attraction statement to me.  Who did you attract and can you keep him there until I get home and load my pistol?

B. –Dr. Phil is a bartender?  You need a degree for that job these days?

G – I can’t text you from the tub.  I will get electrocuted.  Or would it be Electron-cuted?

B - I am shocked to hear that.

G- It’s getting to the point where I am dreading having to use a vocabulary word because my phone won’t know it, and all my vocabulary words are really long.

B – Truly.     Dumb yourself down for me

B – I have been on this train for an hour.  I did not know Japan was this large.

G – It’s the size of CA with the same number of people as the whole US.  All crammed together!

B – California?  Is Arnold their Governator?

B – Maybe I should buy you a new phone here.  Do they use cell phones in Japan?  Cameras?

G – I guess I could try a Japanese phone.  It would make a nice change from this Chinese piece of doo-doo.

B – Gwen!  Please!  This is a family friendly phone!

G – So, where are u going?  Will you be back in time for your flight?

B – I may not come back.   Here I am a God.

B – Guess what, I am almost out of battery.  You are now off the hook and can take your bath.

G - Watch out for the Sta-Puft marshmallow man. Guess which word in that sentence I had to teach my phone?

B- Man?  Or Stay?  I’ve always had a hard time teaching my phone to “Stay.”

B- I am really stopping now

Texting while walking around downtown Tokyo

B- I am gonna go up and stick my head out of this underground tunnel, like a gopher.

G – I still don’t know where you’re going. Just in case I hear about an American causing an incident.

B- I am here to buy a cup of coffee.  Then go back to my ordinary world.  This is like Brigadoon.

G – OK, say goodbye to 22bucks!...Ohh, Ohh!  Buy some Kimono Fabric.

B- I can’t hear you….  Losing the signal…  I did not know Kimono dragons wore fabric

G – What city are you in?  Tokyo?

B- Tokyo, or maybe Detroit? I was texting and not watching the road signs.

G- Oh, Good to know, have fun, Brodie.

B – They serve good strong coffee here. Everyone drinks it. It must be true that caffeine stunts your growth.

G– Have they started surrounding you and gesturing in awe at your enormous height, yet?

B – They have surrounded me with 10Ft bamboo poles.  Is that the local custom?

G – Ask them where the local Kimono shops are.

B – There are McDonalds and 7-11 stores.  Thank god America has been able to bring a little culture over here.

B – I found a Kimono fabric shop.  When you get close turns out the fabric is just burlap.  Who knew?

G – Bring me a sample so I can show everybody over here.. They won’t believe it unless I show them.

.B – I’ve had my coffee.  Now I have one hour to endear myself to the population and have them offer me the key to the city.

And after returning to Narita Airport:

B – I am back at the airport in case you had any concerns, which apparently you did not, thank you very much!

G- I only asked you where you were going three different times to no avail. I may add.

B – I went to T O K Y O.  It is a large city in Japan.  I had coffee.  It was good.   I successfully returned to the airport.  My story is almost over for this trip.  I could use a shower, I suppose.

G – OK, I’m going to sleep so I will be ready for your return tomorrow.

B – Sleep well, See u soon.

End of intercepted transmissions

---

New Cultural Experiences - my side trip to Japan

Don't let that innocent smile fool you.

New cultural experiences.   - my side trip to Japan

My original flight to Houston from Mumbai was canceled due to “mechanical problems”, yea, right.  What mechanical issues would be associated with a jet flying at 37,000 ft., in -60 degree F temperatures, over the ocean, for hours at a time?  But it was not my job to second guess some greasy mechanic, so I had to stay overnight in Mumbai and find a new route home.  The airline agreed to put me on a flight routed thru Tokyo, Japan, then on to Houston.  This schedule gave me a 6 hour layover in Tokyo. This meant two things:  On this trip I would circumnavigate the globe, (makes me feel like the explorer Magellan.  Of course he was killed by natives on his last trip) and I had the opportunity to make Japan number 31 on my list of countries that I have visited.

We landed mid - morning in at Narita Airport, near Tokyo.  I was feeling very good about my chances of figuring out how to actually leave the airport.  That is not as easy as you might think. You have to fill out paper work, have to know if you have time to get back before the flight leaves, and you have to buy local currency.   I did all that, and was ready to visit a new country and build new cultural experiences.

Since it is good to have a goal in life I told my wife, by text, that I was going to Tokyo to buy a cup of coffee.  I actually bought a large one at a Starbucks at the airport before I left for Tokyo, so I could drink it on the train.  But, I wanted to have another at a Tokyo coffee shop in order to absorb the local experience.  They also sold sandwiches that were not full of sushi, so I bought one with the coffee.  I was not hungry, but thought it would be the proper thing to do.  This coffee was better than the Starbucks I had at the airport, so I can conclude that Tokyo coffee is better than Narita coffee.  I guess it is a cultural thing.  I am very happy to have learned this and to broaden my experiences.

I walked around the city for about an hour, then decided it was time to head on back to the airport.  But, as I feared, I could not quite figure out how to use the remaining piece of paper that the ticket person gave me when I bought the round trip rail ticket. But I ignored that worry, followed the signs, found the track for the Express train going to Narita, and hopped on.  This was easy.

I found an open seat.  On the ride into Tokyo, I had an assigned seat.  This time, I did not.  Once the train started, it became apparent that it was not the Express Train, but one that was going to stop at each station between Tokyo and Narita airport.  As far as I knew, there were a 1000 stops and I would not make it back in time to catch my plane.  Or to see my children grow up.  But that is part of the excitement of dealing with new cultures and experiences.

A ticket lady came by and I showed her my ticket stuff.  She was telling me something that was apparently important, but I was not getting it.  Comedians always make fun of Brits for having bad teeth, but this poor girl’s teeth were so crooked, she could hardly talk.  I could not make out a thing she was saying.  Of course she was speaking Japanese, but if she’d had better dental care, I probably would have gotten what she was saying.

She kept pointing to her handheld device that had 1000 yen on the screen.  So I handed her a 1000 yen bill and she seemed happy.  I either tipped her for showing me her fancy hand held device, or I paid what was equal to $10 to learn about her dental challenges.  But that is OK.  It is all part of expanding one’s experiences.

Earlier, in Tokyo, I had stopped in a shop that sold hosiery and textile items.  I knew my wife would like some textile thing from here, so I went to the sales table, and started looking for something cheap.  (Thank goodness she does not read this).  I found some beautiful handmade socks.  (I include that description just in case she does read this)  They were huge by Japanese standards, so I thought they’d fit her. The prices was 1,160yen.  I guess that was not too bad.  I took them to the counter to pay.  The sales lady looked very concerned.  Her teeth were fine, but I still could not make out what she was saying, so she beckoned me to follow her back to the display.  She pointed to the sign and apparently the items were on sale six for 1,160 yen.  I told her I did not want to pick out five more, and just wanted the one.  I did not care if I paid for six if that was what the deal was, but she shook her head.  I guess the idea of ripping off an ignorant tourist, even a willing one, was not in her culture.  She would not sell me one, and I did not want to pick thru the pile to get five more.  So we parted friends.  Just one more expansion of my culture, although I came away empty handed.

The entire time I write this I am listening to the recordings over the train’s loud speaker system.  I think it keeps mentioning that this is the express service train to Narita, but the express part of this trip is what is not happening.  I think we have already stopped 10 times in 30 minutes.  I don’t have a clue if we are gonna start the express part or if we are going to keep stopping.  I now am beginning to regret not becoming a dentist after all.  I bet I could fix their teeth, then understand what these poor orally challenged people are trying to tell me.   I hope this is just part of expanding my worldly experiences.

Damn, we are stopping AGAIN!  And now I have to pee.  Too much coffee.  Regardless of how good it was, I am regretting that second cup.  If we don’t get to the airport soon, I am going to give a new cultural experience to all the other passengers that are on this train.  And they are just sitting here! Don’t they care that we are stopping at every crappy little station between Tokyo and Guadalcanal?  Didn’t we invade this country in WWII and win?  Why are they still speaking this Japanese crap?  What did our boys die for, anyway?  I am gonna go berserk soon if this damn train keeps stopping.

Oh Jeez!  Now we are not starting back up.  Dead stopped at a station.  Is this thing gonna keep going or what?  The tiny little voice on the loudspeaker (now there is some irony.  She can barely speak Engrish, and is whispering, but is being broadcast over a “loudspeaker”). Hmmph.  Just shut the hell up, lady, and get us to the airport.

Now she is telling us which terminal to get off at.  That is a good sign.  Maybe we will make it to the airport in THIS CENTURY! That little disembodied voice is saying something about needing to know what terminal your flight departs from.  Damn.  How am I supposed to know that?  Are these shrimpy little Japanese people all conspiring to make my life a living hell here in JAP LAND?  I am never drinking coffee again, especially in Tokyo!  We are just crawling along now and my bladder is about to explode.  I hope we are near the airport.  WOW! A very fast, EXPRESS TRAIN just blew past us, kicking sand in our face as it mocked our slow speed.  I am gonna kill something. I think I will start with that Berlitz Language teaching guy.  NO ONE needs to speak ANYTHING other than ENGRISH!

I hate doing new things for the first time!  Damn these new cultural experiences.

The new Mumbai International Terminal at the Airport.

The new Mumbai International Terminal at the Airport.

I recently watched a program on the Discovery Channel about the new International Terminal being built at the Mumbai airport.  It was supposed to be an awesome, audacious project. It was to be a tribute to the vitality and creativity of the world’s third largest economy.  I fly in and out of Mumbai quite often so I got to see this marvelous architectural achievement first hand. 

I was on a shuttle bus going from the Domestic terminal to the new International terminal when I first saw the building.  It was a very dark night.  As my shuttle bus rounded a corner, suddenly an eerie white glow of light broke the darkness. The new terminal’s lighting arrangement made the structure radiate light rather than just reflect it.  The pillars of cast concrete flared out near the ceiling to support a wider area than standard columns would.  There was a sculpture like feel to the look of the columns yet they seemed like they were formed naturally.  Almost like the skeletal remains of a monstrous sea creature.  It was a beautiful building.

The only problem about this beautiful new edifice is that it is located in India.  And it has the traditional Indian mindset of mismanagement  and inept employees.

The old departure terminal of this airport was one of the worst places in the city to get malaria from mosquito bites.   The place was infested with them.  You’d stand in line or sit and wait hours for a flight, and the entire time be swatting the nasty creatures, inside the building.  I told someone that at least that problem is bound to have gone away with all the tight construction practices employed when erecting the new place.  Well, shockingly, the new terminal has the same mosquito problem.  I was chased out of one quiet lounge area because the relentless mosquitoes were eating me up. 

The moving walkways are funny.  They are so slow that it is almost faster to walk next to them than walk on them.  And most airports have two  moving walkways side by side that run the length of the corridor connecting all the gates of the terminal.  One going in opposite direction from the other.  But in this terminal the both moving walkways go in the same direction.  So if you went down the long corridor to the wrong gate, you can’t hop on the walkway to get back.

I needed to eat dinner before my 16 hour flight, but I wanted to wash up first.  I found a men’s room and got refreshed then washed my hands.  Me and another Western man looked for paper towels to dry off with and realized at the same time that there were no towels, no towel dispensers or any dryers in the bathroom.  He and I looked at each other with that “it figures” expression.

The security system to keep dangerous objects off the plane was the same as I had just come thru in one of their old regional airports.  Just like in the old original airport, the metal detectors here were not operational.  (They even had signs on them saying they were not in operation!) You just walk thru it and stand on a wooden platform and have a security guard pass a wand over your clothing.  You don’t take off your shoes, belts, or anything.  The Indian security personnel are really big on paper luggage tags, however.  They want you to remove any old tags and if you don’t put a new one on each piece of luggage you will be turned back from multiple locations where that is all they are checking for.  I think I could have walked thru the airport with fissionable material as long as it had a proper paper tag on it.

The crackerjack security guys did run my carry-on luggage thru the x-ray machine a couple of times.  Then they pulled me aside and gestured that they wanted to look in my bag.  After several minutes of digging thru my stuff, the ace security agent found a small pair of round pointed scissors in my shave kit.  I use these to trim my mustache.  And the scissors will barely cut anything.  The security commando said these tiny scissors were illegal!  I doubt I could commandeer a jet airliner with them.  I doubt I could commandeer a little old lady wanting to cross the street.  The security agent seemed rather pleased with himself that he had potentially saved the lives of a planeload of travelers by foiling my hijacking plans.  I guess Mr. Rashna Barney Fife Mustafa,  or whatever his name is, will be employee of the month.  I can just see those tiny scissors, framed and mounted on a wall somewhere, with some red ribbon of merit attached to them. 

One of these days, the country of India will catch up with the rest of the world, but right now, needs to take the time to get the details right.  This beautiful building needs the details tended to.

Obscure news from the Times of India:

Obscure news from the Times of India:

As a service to humanity, Your Intrepid Traveler constantly scours the world for news that is worthy to pass on.  This is not it.   My comments are in Italics:

Nashik, India – Seventeen women, who had been taken into custody during a raid at a dance club escaped from a government hostel in Nashik where they had been lodged.  The bar girls escaped after overpowering the hostel’s watchman.  The women, who had apparently planned their escape, rushed towards the gate as it opened, threw chili powder in the guard’s face, and escaped.  In the U.S. the White house spokesman, asked to comment on this event, said “in order to avoid similar tragedies, the U.S. should ban the manufacture and sale of chili powder, especially high capacity packages”.

Knoxville TN:  An 84 year old nun, along with two other peace activists were convicted of breaking in to a U.S. nuclear weapons complex and defacing a bunker holding bomb-grade uranium.  (A NUN??  Who is she, Sister Mc Gyver?  Did she deface it by spray painting the wall with a sad face?    The security people are the ones who should be convicted of a crime.)

Emma Roberts, reports that she had a reality check when she moved out of her parent’s home at age 18.  The actress, now 23, was horrified that she had to buy her own toilet paper when she moved out.  “I was like, wait, I have to buy my own toilet paper?  And I have to wash my own clothes?  Being an adult is not glamorous.”  (Gee, I can’t wait to hear what she thinks about global warming.)

Bangalore, India – At the age of 108, a man has undergone angioplasty for two blocks in his heart at Bangalore’s St. John’s Medical College Hospital, making him the world’s oldest to undergo this medical procedure.  (The man, who remains under treatment, was first admitted to the hospital for chest pains after being viciously attacked with chili powder and overpowered by bar girls.)

Times Book Review:  An Ode to Oysters - Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher, “considered one of America’s foremost food writers” (I guess I did not know there were less foremost writers in competition with her) wrote an entire book on the subject of oysters (76 pages), first published in 1941. (I seem to recall that in 1941 there was something else going on in the world that was a bit more important than a book on oysters.  But maybe this book was a welcome diversion from WWII.  But the first sentence of the book):  “An oyster leads a dreadful but exciting life….”  (Exciting?  Compared to V2 rockets bombing London? ).

Chinese scientists gave environmentalism a boost by inventing a printer that uses water instead of ink on rewritable paper.  (I am glad the Chinese scientists are staying occupied with stuff like this and not thinking of ways to accomplish world domination.)

A recent editorial in the Times of India laments the fact that Artec Group, a Russian firm, developed a product that allows a “selfie”, a photo one takes of oneself, to be transformed in to a statue.  The editorial says:  “it is disquieting to see the extent of self-centered behavior…converting a selfie in to a statue is a symptom of a growing malaise undermining social cohesion”.   (I can only conclude that the Times of India Editors must have too much time on their hands if this is something they need to editorialize on.  Maybe we can get those Chinese scientists to invent statues made of water.)

Speaking of too much time on my hands, I guess I need to stop reading the paper and pack for my trip home.

Hope Springs Eternal

Hope Springs Eternal

Greetings gentle readers.  As I write this I am sitting in the Houston International Airport, about to depart to Mumbai, India.  What fun.  I had a choice between taking this trip or having a colonoscopy.  With the new Obama Care rules, the examination was going to be given by a boy scout, to earn a merit badge, using a garden hose and a flashlight.  I signed up for it anyway, but there was a slight snafu with the Healthcare website and I apparently enrolled to be trained as a bomb sniffing dog for Afghanistan.  That job still sounded better than making this trip to India, but since I am not limber enough to scratch behind my ears with my foot, I couldn’t pass the physical.

So, here I am at the airport.

It will take about 23 hours of flying and wait time between flights to get from Houston to Mumbai.  These long trips give me time to stop and reflect about my world.  To ponder the meaning of life.  Time to consider what is really important; what my goals and dreams are.  I could do that, but that would be perilously close to actually thinking.  So I write this crap.  I always have a thousand important things I want to accomplish that these overseas trips keep me from doing.  Like trimming my nose hair. Personal hygiene is important.  And if you have seen my nose you will appreciate that this is not an insignificant task.  But actually, I do have one serious goal that I am reminded of when watching TV.  I refer to the commercial featuring “Doug” who has fibromyalgia.  I want to slap him and get him to stop doing those commercials.  Dougie Boy,  If fibromyalgia is such a bad condition (and I am not doubting that) shouldn’t you be spending your final days with family and not shilling for a law firm so they can sue every company on the planet that has ever created dust?

But I digress.  I did manage to get one project almost completed before I left.  My wife, the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, has been trying to coax vegetables to grow in the poor soil of our garden ever since we moved to the country.  This is sandy soil and it does not exactly produce the most robust plant life, unless you count weeds.  So I, the caring, dutiful husband that I am often confused with, decided to build a raised bed garden for her. I was planning to fabricate a series of 4ft by 12ft. boxes, about a foot tall.  I would fill them with fertile garden soil that the dirt yard sells.  That was before I actually calculated how much dirt it takes to fill several 4ft by 12ft boxes.  Forget it.   It was going to cost hundreds of dollars just for dirt, and I woulda had to wheel barrow it in to fill those boxes up.

I had already built two of the raised bed frames before it occurred to me how expensive this plan was going to be. We could have fresh vegetables delivered daily by a chauffeured limousine cheaper than it was going to cost us to raise our own.  So I compromised.  I used the tractor to scoop up decent looking top soil and dumped several loads in to the raised beds.   Then I added a dozen bags of compost and peat moss to amend the soil. I tilled it in.  It looked marvelous.  I imagined juicy red tomatoes, bursting with flavor growing in tight clusters.  I envisioned onions, carrots, and potatoes virtually leaping out of the soil, just begging to picked.

Since it gets hot in our part of the country early in the year, we have to plant as soon as possible after the danger of freezes are over.  So went to the Home Improvement store (was there ever a more hopeful category of retail store?) to buy plants.  My wife had saved a gardening article giving guidance on what the best varieties of plants to buy for our area.  As usual, I forgot to bring it with me to the store.  I opted instead to buy the ones the garden center had on display.  I should have been suspicious when reading the names of some varieties.  For example:  Their Broccoli variety was named “Fat Chance”, the Cauliflower variety was  “Fugetaboutit”, and the tomato variety was “You can’t be serious”, (seemed a bit wordy to me) and the peppers offered were “You wish”.  I guess it should have been a red flag for me when reading the package’s planting label that said:  “compost pile ready”.  Some had instructions which suggested speeding up the process by just throwing the plants away immediately.  Apparently truth in labeling has come to the garden center.  However, I was undeterred.  I bought a dozen spinach plants, the variety endorsed by Popeye, collards, and several tomato plants. 

The tomatoes were guaranteed not to die within the first 48 hours, if you did not stick them in the ground.  If you really plant them, all bets are off.  I had a secondary motivation:  tomatoes are poisonous to sheep and goats, and their pen is just outside the garden.  Hmmmm…Wouldn’t it be a shame if those sheep somehow got loose in the garden and followed a trail of their feed which led to those tempting tomato plants?

I am certain every gardener feels the same optimism when doing the first planting of the year.  It is never better to be a gardener than the moment your hands scoop out the cool soil, creating a divot for the new plant to rest in.  Ah spring.  I love the smell of tilled soil in the morning.  I could almost hear a pipe and drum corps playing in the background as Mr. Douglas of Green Acres quipped about the nobleness of farming. 

Sadly, I already know the outcome.  The varmints will eat the new plants, or the dogs will decide it is the perfect spot to dig, or we will go out of town, they won’t get watered and …you know the rest.  In the end, the weeds will win.  We still want to eat healthy, but we spent all our money on the garden.  So I will be ordering our fresh veggies, to be delivered by limo.   That is actually a new business venture I plan to launch on the TV show, “Shark Tank.”  “Garden plants, you are dead to me!”