Woke up from a hot sweaty nightmare with a vivid mental image of tiny technicolor reptiles running around on my floral skirt, and the word "liquidity" on my lips. In the background of this horror show, a military band played "Garryowen". Crap. It's Wall Street's last stand with Escher lizards at 2:42 a.m. CDT.
The financial crisis will impact me in indirect and potent ways. Bobby Dylan tells me I've got nothing to lose, since I've got nothing. Seems like the economy has been slapping me with a wet towel in the junior high locker room for many months already. I march out each morning like some poor enlisted fool in Custer's 7th, about to be shot full of arrows because of arrogant, short-sighted commanders. Boys and girls, can you say "Greasy Grass"?
As a mental health expense, I purchased a package of buy four/get one free super cheap seats above and behind the orchestra, with the performances scattered out over the year. Thank heaven for that brief splurge. I've been hanging on to the prospect of a Dallas Symphony Sunday afternoon concert for weeks now. The newspaper review says the Sibelius Violin Concerto in D minor will be moody and challenging. Sounds like my preschoolers, or perhaps the markets. Children, can you say, "volatility"?
© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder