Say What?

These comics remind me of the wisdom of Will Rogers, the early 20th century cowboy-columnist. "Too many people spend money they haven't earned, to buy things they don't want, to impress people they don't like."

And if you're actually spending money you have earned to buy useless stuff- that's even crazier.  A gulliblity check is in order. You're not that naive.  What besides the cowl-induced sploin-built krypton converter and the hardpoint quadraphonic ion-inverted tesselator do you not want? 

Ask yourself one question. What need does this purchase satisfy?  An honest answer might protect you from being easy prey.  If there is a genuine, demonstrable need, forge ahead. If the satisfaction is purely emotional, It might be a want rather than a need.  If polishing your reputation as a trend setter, style maker, or early adopter is your best excuse, proceed with caution.  Not every want needs to be satisfied.

Even cave merchants knew the power of branding and marketing. Unique gifts or useless junk?  Another good question. If the cave consumer has it figured out, we can too. 

Essential, Nonessential or Junk?

The Minimalists duo are well-known for their dedication to “less”.  I’m on record as being intrigued by their work but not a card- carrying, 'Minimalists' disciple. I’m a self-branded 'Enoughist', not a minimalist.  But maybe it's splitting hairs. Their recent essay on how to sort your possessions caught my attention and since it wouldn’t let go, I decided to quit pondering and start doing.  After all, I've long championed the philosophy of William Morris who is saying much the same thing.

From the Minimalists:  “Everything we own can be placed in three piles.

Essentials. Few possessions should fall into this pile. These are the necessities we can’t live without: food, shelter, clothes. While the specifics change for each person, most needs are universal.

 Nonessentials. In an ideal world, most of our things would belong in this pile. These are the objects we want in our lives because they add value. Strictly speaking, I don’t need a couch, a bookshelf, or a dining table in my living room but these items enhance, amplify, or augment my experience of life.

 Junk. Sadly, most of our things belong in this pile. These are the artifacts we like—or, more accurately, think we like—but they don’t serve a purpose or bring us joy. The average American home contains more than 300,000 items, and most of it is junk. While this junk often masquerades as indispensable, it actually gets in the way of a more meaningful life.

Of course, the personal effects in these piles are different for everyone. The widgets that add value to my life might be junk to you, and vice versa. The key, then, is to continue to question the things we bring into our lives, and to question the things we hold onto, because the stuff that adds value today might be tomorrow’s junk.”

Essentials are described concisely. Nonessentials need a bit more explaining. And junk, needs more still.  And so it is with our possessions- a few essentials, a healthy dose of nonessentials and a sea of junk.  

Lest you think you have little junk- think again.  In my own exercise to sort the wheat from the chaff using the Minimalist Method, I realized how very much junk I do own.  Just because something is in good condition and you have space to store it doesn’t inoculate it against being junk.

Close Some Doors

    “Close some doors. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because they no longer lead somewhere.”

                                                                                                                                                                        Paulo Coelho          

Opening doors has an upbeat connotation-promise, optimism, and excitement; closing doors sounds like a downer- deflated, missing out, not making the cut. 

Not going too far out on a philosophical limb without a rope and harness (i.e. any legitimate study of existentialism), here’s Kierkegaard 101 on the connection between despair and too much possibility.

Too much possibility (open doors) is the gateway to becoming ungrounded and out of touch with anchoring realities. Which way to turn?  What’s behind Door # 3? I’d hate to miss out on the next great thing. Where does it end? Too much overwhelms-maybe not at first, but eventually.  It leads to regret, heavy heart, and even despair.  But so can too little. A dark hall with no doors, just one dead end after another is where woe and despondency lurk and where no one wishes to make their acquaintance.

The work is finding balance between opened and closed doors.  Not every knock needs to be answered.

Consider the Brazilian writer, Coelho’s advice for finding both your promise and your limits. Which doors should you fling open and which should you firmly shut?  Closing a door doesn’t mean you’re lazy, or inept or hubristic. It just means you know yourself.  And it’s a self that is content with enough.  An independent self

In the Dark

June 27, 2018

Today is National Sunglasses Day.  It squeezed in around National Doughnut Day, National Iced Tea Day, and National Biscuit Day. The list goes on and on…

So called ‘Hallmark Holidays’ (Grandparent’s Day, Boss’s Day and Secretary’s Day) set the stage for the ‘Social Media Holidays’. Apparently people are so eager to post something on Instagram, Facebook et al, that they jump at the chance, using the fete de jour as their excuse.

I am hopelessly behind on all of this.  Really, it’s blissfully behind.  I only recently learned the social media acronym, FOMO-fear of missing out- gluing yourself to your device to avoid the anxiety that missing a current social event might provoke. 

As not to be a total Luddite, I’ve coined an antonym (or antidote) to FOMO.  POMO- pleasure of missing out. Relieved that you aren’t in everyone else’s business.  Honestly, doesn’t your own business keep you busy enough to not fret over others’? 

So today, I’m celebrating National Sunglasses Day by staying in the dark.  Join me for some POMO.  Now that’s something to celebrate!

Rich Irony

Affluenza (n.)- a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more.

So begins the book, Affluenza.  It’s a catchy title that’s endured long enough to merit a third edition but I’ve only recently become acquainted with it.  And the core message is that we should learn to be satisfied with “enough”.  Keeping up with the Jones’s is a fool’s errand. Clutter stifles. Deficit spending depresses. Winning the rat race?  You’re still a rat.  You get the picture.

And about this picture?  Planning to read a quote from the book to one of my yoga classes, I pulled a shopping bag out from the small collection in a kitchen cabinet and Neiman Marcus is what I got.   The irony wasn’t lost on me.  A NM bag to hold a book on Affluenza!

The quote is from Lily Tomlin (but it could have just as easily been George Carlin). “We buy a wastebasket and take it home in a plastic bag.  Then we take the wastebasket out of the plastic bag, and put the bag in the wastebasket.”

 May as well hear what Carlin had to say too.  “A house is just a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff.” 
 

Enough said!

Not My Monkeys?

"Not my circus.  Not my monkeys."  Old Polish Proverb

Monkeys- how evocative. Barrel of monkeys- fun and frivolity.  Monkey business- mischief.  Monkeying around- goofy, playful.  

In the energetic, larger than life vibe of the circus, monkeys make for hijinks and chaos.  And the man in the top hat is supposed keep things under control without spoiling the fun. The ringmaster is in charge of the show. He keeps the performers on schedule and on task.  And if something goes haywire, it’s his job to fix it.  It’s his circus.  His monkeys.  The audience watches. And no matter how much something needs fixing, the audience is off the hook.

 What a relief! 

The same is true outside of the big top.  We often poke our noses in where they are unnecessary and ineffective. And not having any business doing what we’re attempting to do is stressful and not the least bit helpful.

So next time you encounter metaphorical monkeys in a circus, check to see if you’re the ringmaster.  And if you’re not, no matter how crazy, chaotic and confused the situation, remind yourself, “Not my circus. Not my monkeys.”

About the simian assemblage pictured here… they are my monkeys!  They’re a playful reminder that if it is your business, quit trying and start doing.

Tight Ship?

I recently had another eye-opener that was just as stunning as learning that some people don’t make to-do lists and yet they persist.  They survive. They even excel.  So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that many people have an innate ability to compartmentalize thoughts, obligations and time-demands.   I’m not put together that way although I often wish that I were.  I’m an ‘open-looper’.   I have a hard time not thinking about the things that need doing, so doing them is the obvious solution.  It makes me productive and often efficient but also a little bit crazy.

How do you deal with all the things that cross your mind, your desk, your digital device?  Are you a compartmentalizer or an open- looper?  Is your mind like a rodent on a wheel- running endlessly, or a juggler carefully minding many balls?  Welcome to the Society of Open Loopers. 

At the other end of the spectrum is the person whose mind is like a chest with lots of little drawers each with a sturdy lock, or the bottle sealed tight with a cork.  You can put myriad thoughts, tasks and responsibilities in their own little compartments and forget about them until the time seems right. 

Most of us fall somewhere between these extremes but we all have our natural tendencies.  Sometimes they serve us well and sometimes they swamp us. So we’ve developed coping mechanisms for dealing with the consequences of being ourselves.  If you’re quick on the trigger because you don’t want it hanging over your head, sometimes you do things that really didn’t need to be done.  And sometimes you do them in a slapdash fashion just to have it done.  If you’re inclined to let things ripen in the locked box or corked bottle, they sometimes go from ripe to rotten and you’ve got a mess on your hands. 

For one devoted to the notion of a “tight ship”, this little ship in a bottle is a delightful reminder- not just of beauty of things being ship-shape, but of the beauty and utility of the protective compartment.  The ship would have been tempest-tossed and surely lost if not for its bottle.

Like the little ship, find your even keel. 

Inmate or Jailer?

“To make sure customers show up bright and early at 9 a.m. Monday — two days before the store opening — to begin queuing up in advance of the store opening, IKEA announced it is offering thousands of dollars worth of giveaways. The first 44 adults in line Monday will get a free Ektorp sofa, and the next 100 adults in line will get a free Poang armchair.”  Columbus Dispatch, May, 2017

Goat's correct.  Lining up two days before the opening of a store, in hopes of  free upholstery...  sounds like the sofa and armchair have the upper hand.

Regarding your things, who owns whom? 

"Don't own so much clutter that you will be relieved to see your house catch fire."  Wendell Berry

As Granny Would Say

This isn't really related to a principle or rule.  But having no editor to save me from myself, I a can do as I please.  It's with pleasure that I give you the best from a superlative grandmother, to celebrate her birthday, May 17th. The older I get, the more I regret that she didn't write a book. She called a spade a spade better than anyone I know and did so with a goodly dose of humor.  So, from the collective memory of her six grandchildren, who issued forth from the adorable little girls pictured above.... 

1.     No need to be so damned sorry. (In response to ‘I’m sorry.’)

2.     It’s five o’clock somewhere in the world. (Bring out the bourbon!)

3.     She’s in her cups. (Tipsy- given that it’s well after 5 and the bourbon has made its appearance.)

4.     Fools’ names, like their faces, always seen in public places. (Facebook et al be damned!)

5.     I’ve eaten a bumble bee and it’s under my shirt (aka I’ve eaten abundantly and anymore would be an exert.)

6.     Pleasingly plump (Meaning you could stand to lose a few.)

7.     Pretty is as pretty does. (Behaving was a big deal.)

8.     I’m going to drop down for a few. (A post-prandial midday nap)

9.    You going to the picture show? (Meaning, stop picking at your seat.)

10.  Old age is a miserable state of affairs. (Said without a trace of bitterness.)

11.  I’m happy to be seen. (In response to “I’m happy to see you.”)

12.  Suck egg mule. (A more genteel way of saying “son of a bitch”)

14.   If you see something God didn't make, shake a stick at it! (If you accidentally intrude on someone in a partial or complete state of undress and hurriedly profess embarrassed apologies, the victim of your intrusion might reply in this fashion.)

15.  That’s merchandise! (Meaning you medaled in the retail Olympics)

15.  Her taste is all in her mouth. (She was tacky.)

16.  Stink face (A screwed up face- like what an NPR host does when talking about Tweets.)

You might have noticed that 13. is missing. It's not due to superstition but rather to a flirt with decorum.  Granny would be disappointed in me so I'll just tell you that the punch line is "Arrabella Cunningham".  You'll have to imagine the rest!  Happy Birthday Granny.
 

Brand, You

“ If I’m going to advertise something, I should be paid for it. ”  WSJ

An article in the WSJ about the resurgence of consumer branding spurred me.  Branding with logos, distinctive labels and recognizable embellishments is hotter than ever, turning shoppers into walking billboards. Clever, n’est ce pas.  But the cleverest trick? The customer willingly pays to be the billboard.

Branding is nothing new, but we used to wear our own brand. Monograms and trademark touches are examples of self-branding that have been with us for centuries.  Shirts, handkerchiefs, buckles and signet rings are familiar examples. And countless personal touches secure our singular brand and telegraph it to others. I have worn a set of square silver bangles for years.  They only come off to clear security. People tell me the clink of these little bracelets is the first sign of my approach.  I hope they mean it in a comfortable rather than annoying way.  

Branding is seductive.  You think, “I belong.”  And the company doing the branding is in agreement. You do belong.  To them!  Some brands are subtle, others shout.  The loud ones are easy to recognize.  The quieter ones require “being in the know”. This of course only boosts their cachet. Unlike the rancher to his cattle and the Brotherhood to the Pledges, the logo wielding corporate branders might not have a hot iron, but they sure know how to exact a pound of flesh.  

Take your pick. Brand new, changing whenever the fashion winds shift?   Or brand you, confidently content?  "If I’m going to advertise something, it should mostly be me."

About the spurs?  Branding spurred me.   I just recognized the connection between the hot iron and the sharp spike but I bet it was there all along.  Don’t call PETA. These spurs have never made their mark on anything other than a bookshelf.  They’re a just a bit of a shrinking shrine to childhood.  A childhood that began thirty four years ago today.

Pearls Before Swine

The denizens of this comic strip are some of my best inspirations.  Many consider Pearls Before Swine to be dark, but I think otherwise. It illuminates so many things I hold true.  Humorously.  Concisely.  Brilliantly.  It’s the epitome of light. 

Clutter is in the eye of the beholder.  Where I see clutter, others may see a comforting array of potentially useful possessions.  Are you are pitcher or a catcher?  Are things safe or out? 

A widely accepted definition of clutter is this:  Anything that is not used or loved; anything for which you have inadequate storage space; anything that is broken and unlikely to ever be repaired; and anything that can be replaced easily and inexpensively should the need arise.  That’s clutter in a nutshell.

We keep clutter because of guilt, inertia, and indecision.  You might need your scuba gear, raccoon trap and miscellaneous keys one day.  But you probably won’t.  Is might a good enough reason to “Always Keep Everything!!”? 

Make Pearls Before Swine the wrong name for this strip by appreciating the valuable lessons the comic offers. Don’t dismiss them without due consideration. You might decide Pig, Goat and Rat aren’t blowing smoke, but sending important smoke signals!

“You get so burdened in life by all the stuff you keep.”  Pig

Gracious You, Revisited

Well-written and quite gracious?  Certainly not.  But Goat gives credit where credit is due.  At least Rat hand-wrote something.  With your superior brain and manual dexterity, besting Rat should be a cinch.  Pull out pen and paper and say what needs saying.  Write now. 

Gracious You

Well, this isn't the best thank you note ever. A little white lie would have been better than unvarnished honesty. But at least Rat wrote.  Maybe promptly. Be like the rat! 

Seeing with New Eyes

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new lands, but in seeing with new eyes.”                                                                                                                                 Marcel Proust

We recently went on holiday to the Portuguese island of Maderia.  It’s a beautiful volcanic island with the tallest peak rising over 6,000 feet and the land plunging precipitously into the Atlantic.  The terrain and climate are perfect for growing the grapes that made Madeira famous.  And the craggy cliffs make perfect homes for the beloved swallows, Andorinhas. The swallow is the country's national icon.  You'll find it on flags, manhole covers, shop signs, even tattoos.  

Our intention was to drink the wine, hike the hills and swim the sea.  And we did.  And all lived up to our expectations.  We heeded Proust (who favored the French Madeleine but would surely have relished the Portuguese custard tart as well).  The new land delighted but the seeing with new eyes is the more enduring story.  And it's a story told through the swallows that seemed instinctively to know what Proust believed.  

The swallows were soon to commence their seasonal migration to Africa. As they swooped around the rugged cliffs, it was as if they were surveying their Madeiran homes with new eyes. Appreciating the comfort and familiarity of their nests.  Knowing these would be a place of rest when they returned the following spring to raise their young.  It was easy to imagine the swallows understood that traveling and nesting are not incompatible, but perfect partners. Full of energy and content with calm, these birds knew that both were part of a rich life.  And likewise, for us. 

So we emulated the swallows.  We were busy and still.  The busy part came naturally. Like the swallows, we swoop and circle and delight in doing, even on vacation.  Ben Franklin provided an oft repeated family wakeup call.  "Awake sluggards, waste not life. There's time enough for sleeping in the grave!"  As I said, doers.  At first, the being still was a bit unnatural. But as new eyes opened, the still, delighted. Even the spirited swallows needed to rest.  And so did we.

The ceramic swallow, resting on this nest is not just a travel trinket (perish the thought), but a little reminder to slow down and really see that often the best part of voyaging is coming home to a familiar nest with companionable nest mates.  We're just like the swallows- travelers and homebodies.  An excellent combination!

Proust was right.  Seeing with new eyes really is the true voyage of discovery.

Not Getting Things Done

For one who is deeply devoted to getting things done, this comic hit the mark.  Maybe my devotion to “done” was the very thing that sharpened the point- sometimes not doing something is exactly the right thing to do.  Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you have to do it.  Waiting to see how things play out is can be the smart choice. 

The trick is figuring out the right things not to do. You might not be as lucky as Wally. When the pointy-haired boss tells you to do something, it’s probably a good idea to do it or persuasively disavow him of the notion that it needs to be done. 

One of my muses is a devoted doer.  One is a devoted “let it perk-er”.   Even the doer admits that sometimes the effort is for naught but more often, doing is worthwhile.  And the perk-er is quite content to let foolish or unimportant things sink to the bottom of the pile and be swept away in an occasional fit of tidying.  Dire consequences seldom manifest when you thoughtfully decide what not to do.  For the gambler, this risk is worth taking. 

I'm not much of a gambler. 

Forty printed pages, and one day later… A small, inconsequential example of when waiting would have been better.  In a stew to get all the tax documents to the accountant, I logged in and printed a many-paged 1099 that had not arrived in the mail with the others.  Had I waited one more day, all that hurried copying would have been unnecessary.   Getting this thing done was a poor choice.

Doing or not doing? Make a decision.  Both have consequences that dithering won't eliminate.  Decide. Then live with the consequences without too much kvetching.

“Focus is often a matter of deciding what things you’re not going to do.” – John Carmack

More of Less

“Every increased possession loads us with new weariness.”  John Ruskin, Late 19th century English art critic and thinker.

This Englishman probably didn’t known about lagom, the Swedish concept of enough.  It’s the national cultural ethos that is based on fairness and cooperation- without abdicating independence and individualism.  Swedes describe it as “everything in moderation” or finding the middle of the middle path. 

If you’re overworked, overstuffed, overcommitted, and over contacted, lagom might sound pretty good.  And the way to practice lagom is to have more of less.

We often use the expression ‘more or less’ meaning basically, generally, or approximately.  Change one little letter and you’ve got something new to ponder.  Something more interesting.  Something less obvious.

Less stress.  Less mess. Less hurriedness.  Less multitasking.  Less stuff you don’t love.  Less stuff  you don’t even like!

The balance between more and less is enough.  I’m a self-proclaimed “enoughist- my pushback on minimalism.  I am one with the Swedes.  I love lagom.

Enough evens the score.  It is the place of balance, equilibrium, harmony.  It’s a contented place.  Not stuffed or starved.  Not frantic or bored.  Not too hot or too cold. Just right. 

Like the two crows, find your balance.  (And maybe a little more light!)

The Early Bird

Spring arrives in a few hours- at 12:15 pm on March 20, 2018.  With apologies to Tennyson, “ Hope smiles on the threshold of the season to come. “ So this Robin is up, with both shoes on, looking for her “worms”. 

The picking is easy when you’re an early bird.  You’re fresher and more focused. There are fewer distractions and less competition.  The agenda is more yours to set than if you dawdle and let others direct the course of your day.  When you give yourself time, you’re not playing catch-up all day. You’re not stuck in a rut.  You’re not thrown for a loop when someone needs your help.

Minutes matter.  Time is an equal opportunity bestower.  Are you a squanderer or a good steward? Time can’t be stockpiled. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Two little minutes were all that separated the first robin of spring from the fifty-first. 

You’d be amazed by how much you can do in two minutes if you practice getting things done.  Fill the bird feeder. Make your bed.  Send the reply you’ve been meaning to send for days (or weeks).  Become a doer rather than a ditherer.

“It is never to late to begin a new ending.”  Anon       Find your worms!

Note:  This was written in the waning hours of winter,  but by the time it comes to you,  it may be the second day of spring.   How and when it reaches you is something inexplicable and not worth even a minute of worry.

Tags Still Attached

If you’re of a certain age, you’ll remember back-to-school shopping.  The tags were off as soon as you got home. And even if it was still summertime hot, the prospect of wearing the new wool kilt, Peter Pan collared shirt, and saddle oxfords was almost impossible to resist. It was unthinkable that any, much less many, new purchases might never be worn.  But all this happened when we entertained ourselves with things other than shopping.  I’d make the case that shopping isn’t that much fun if you don’t enjoy your purchases enough to wear them even once.  

But many are of a different age and the words 'back-to-school shopping' sound a little quaint but mostly antiquated. In a recent Wall Street Journal article about “virgin” clothes, several women offered reasons why they had things in their closets that were not only unworn, but still tagged. Very recent purchases could get a pass, but that’s not what this story was about. We’re talking about clothes that had been hanging around (literally) for long enough that they shouldn’t be called virgins.  These women’s excuses (more charitably called answers) were honest and insightful. 

From the ‘Careful Shopper’.  She bought the perfect dress, not for one particular event but for many future occasions.  These occasions hadn’t come along yet but they would.  Her motto –“Be Prepared!”

 From the ‘Aspirational Shopper’.  She bought a dress that was obviously too small as a motivation for shedding pounds.. The carrot was missing the stick!  Her motto- “Optimism should be tempered with reality.”

 From the ‘Alternate Reality Shopper’.  She bought harem pants that looked fabulous on the runway model but were decidedly less fabulous on her.  Her motto- “Call me gullible.”

 From the ‘Closet Chaos Shopper’.  She bought lots of things, willy-nilly and eschewed any sort of organization. “What’s a return receipt and who has time?” Her motto-“ Call me crazy.”

And what about clothes that have been de-tagged but still never worn?  Maybe a bit better, but only a bit. There is nothing virtuous about virginal vestiture.  Take stock of your closet.  Tagged or tagless, with few exceptions, if you haven’t worn it, it probably should go.  Admit your shopping missteps and learn to step more carefully.

If the shoe fits, wear it. Please!  

Accentuate the Negative

I can almost hear a chorus of Pollyannas protesting that I’ve confused the lyrics. It’s ”Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative”.   Except for card-carrying curmudgeons, accentuating the negative is not generally a recommended strategy for a happy life.  But this seemingly mangled expression is quite intentional.  Sometimes the negative is the main attraction.

These negatives are worth accentuating.

* Knowing what you don’t want makes knowing what you do want so much easier.

* Getting rid of not just the things you used to like, but the ones you’ve always disliked is a capital idea.

* Sometimes not getting what you want is a marvelous stroke of luck.

The first two are mine; the third is from the Dalai Lama.  Sidling up to one so wise is rather daring, but I suspect his good humor would prevail if he happened to get wind of this. But the point is, these statements all emphasize the negative to surprisingly positive results.

Whether a car or car coat, identifying the features that you don’t want at any price (including ‘free’) can be a good way to come to a decision through the back door.  Stick to your guns.  If you don’t want something, remember it’s not a feature. It’s a problem.  The purveyor is wrong- free will be costly.

Be brave. Can anyone truthfully say that you own nothing you’ve always disliked?  If so, you should be writing a book.  Getting rid of things we used to like can be hard because the item carries some happy memories. They may be old memories but at some point, the item in question mattered.  But getting rid of things we’ve never liked, or maybe always hated?    If you’re honest and call it by what it really is, letting go should be pretty easy.  It’s not a gift. It’s not a remembrance.  It’s a mistake.  And cleaning up mistakes always feels good.

The Dalai Lama’s words are akin to “Be careful what you wish for. It might come true.”  Who hasn’t breathed a sigh of relief or proclaimed gratitude for having “dodged a bullet” when initial disappointment becomes best thing that could have happened?  Appreciate when you’ve stumbled on a marvelous stroke of luck that didn’t initially feel so marvelous.

If Pollyanna is the always sunny, optimist, her counterpart is the termagant. It’s a good word to know if you’re taking the SAT or making a wager.  Our four-leaf-clover-finding daughter can attest to that.   This word popped out of her mouth one Christmas Eve.  All ears were cocked for the explanation. With complete confidence, she defined termagant as harsh- tempered woman- sort of the feminine equivalent of the curmudgeon, which has a more masculine feel.  The hour was getting late and we’d long since abandoned Moderation and invited Excess to the Eggnog Party, so I suggested calling her high school English teacher (who fortunately was on PS Time) for corroboration. A guitar was resting on the outcome. 

Guitar buying is not a traditional St. Stephen’s Day activity, but it did prove a worthy exception to the Lama's rule.  Getting the guitar was a marvelous stroke of luck!