Tag Archives: rubber tree plant

Budget

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Budget: (n) an estimate of income and expenditure for a set period of time.

Sometimes I think the word “budget” was created so that the word “over” can be used more often.

Over budget.

I don’t exactly know why we’re so obsessed with budgets. I mean, I understand the practicality of them, but itDictionary B often resembles the little ant talking to the rubber tree plant.

In other words, we can account for many things as human beings:

  • We can tally.
  • We can work.
  • We can place things in envelopes.

But none of us are prepared for the surprises. Usually, those unplanned happenings are negative and not positive.

For instance, your car never tells you that it grew another transmission. That would be nice.

This is why, when we play Monopoly, and we pick the card that says “Bank error in your favor. Collect $100,” we almost feel like crying.

What is the value of a budget? The greatest purpose for a budget is to confirm that we have the possibility for solvency in the first place. Without such a consideration, we can launch a ship and run out of supplies in the middle of the ocean.

It’s called “counting the cost.”

And even though it doesn’t solve all problems, it at least informs us that if the wind blows just right, the figures we put on paper have half a chance of covering the need.

 

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Anthill

dictionary with letter A

Anthill (n.): a moundlike nest built by ants.

In the literary world, ants are always portrayed as industrious do-gooders. They’re also priggish in the sense that when characterized by poets, they are shown to be a bit snobbish about their craft, talent and provision.

I’ve even heard public speakers suggest that a factory or a particular group of working individuals were humming along at such an efficient pace that they “resembled an anthill.”

Yet having looked at an anthill myself and watched ants at work, I would like to make two subjective points that are contrary to the common promotional representation:

1. Can there be anything uglier than an anthill?

A vision in beige, heaped up in no particular style, constructed for the sole purpose of creating a catacombs of work environment for its enslaved occupants. At least when you look at a bird’s nest, it’s formed with all sorts of remnants of this and that and has some individuality. An anthill looks like the desert got the mumps.

2. I personally have watched ants go by me–busying themselves and oblivious to the world around them–and I have noted that there is no good cheer in the little crawlers.

Even though I am a great admirer of efficiency and work ethic, when you remove joy from the experience of human discovery, you end up acting…well, like an ant, wishing you could say “uncle.”

No wonder they occasionally rebel and slip away from the hive to raid picnics. (There are even a few radicals who decide to start their own business of rubber-tree plant removal.)

But most toe the line in their blah surroundings, pushing tiny morsels into the hill in order to eat, dry their sweat and go back out to find more scraps.

So I don’t think it’s a compliment for people to tell me I work like an ant. Because if you’re going to climb mountains … you’re going to have to get out of your anthill.

 

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Ant

dictionary with letter A

Ant: (n.) a small insect, often with a stinger, which usually lives in a complex social colony with one or more breeding queens.

I don’t know whether there’s any creature on this planet that has such a diverse range of public perception.

After all, the ant is the symbol of vigilance in our childhood tales, especially when competing with the lethargic and procrastinating grasshopper.

Rumor has it that with great persistence, they can actually move rubber tree plants.

We greatly applaud their colony for its efficiency, wondering why the “hill” in Washington, D.C., can’t pick up some pointers.

Yet we also get really upset when they show up at picnics. They are known to frighten children because of their occasional bad tempers, allegedly leading to stings.

So how it is possible to be considered such a diligent fellow, and then closed out from being welcomed by the picnic crowd?

There’s only one explanation.

They’re black.

Yes. It’s a race issue.

I’m not trying to play the “race tentacle” here, but it seems to me that if the ant were white–aside from being almost invisible, as most white creatures are–he (or it) would be more accepted.

This theory could be easily tested by allowing a black ant and a red ant to arrive at a picnic at the same time. Would we treat the red ant better? Or just move it to the side and let it build a casino?

These are questions that plague my thoughts.

Because if we’re trying to get rid of ants because they’re annoying and interfere with the hygiene of our food at outdoor meals, that is a legitimate concern.

But if there is any color discrimination here, I think we should get to the bottom of it.

(Even though I think an ant has a thorax and not a bottom…)

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