Maybe you saw the sign over the highway in the video from El Paso. There were like a thousand mostly young men storming the border. They were coming north. The two words on the sign, en Espanol, mean something like “happy journey.” We don’t know who sponsored the signs, though we support the sentiment.

That led to a minor “point of order” this morning out on the patio of the new unit at Big Pink. Or “cuestión de orden,” if you prefer. The wind was scouring this corner of our wing. The Lady in Red, our flat screen matron meteorologist, claims some of the gusts may hit 40 MPH this morning. Some of us prefer to measure the breeze in “knots,” rather than miles. It seems a little more in tune with the times we spent on the World Ocean. No one has actually thought about throwing a line off the patio toward the asphalt and counting the little knots tied with precision as it plays out.

We agreed that the change is happening with dizzying speed. There is something in the air about it. For example, one of the contributing factors in the Chairman’s decision to purchase the new Headquarters property was the prospect floated a month or two ago about gas stoves. The new old unit is equipped with gas, old style, and has been since the structure was new in 1964. The issue came up with the Administration issued an edict about new standards for kitchen appliances intended to keep global temperatures under control.

How exactly minor inconvenience for Americans engaged in culinary activities will save the planet is not exactly clear, since China and India, for example, can cook their eggs however they wish in the morning. Nor are the people who announced the change specifically identified, much less elected. So, before additional new stricter standards are issued we decided to buy the “old” technology and have the capability to create grilled-cheese sandwiches when it comes time for lunch.

The decision looked pretty good, or at least it did as the dawn flooded Arlington. Our breakfast looked similar to the one Management put out yesterday. The fruit looked good though the pastries were a little stiffer than they were the first time we saw them. Until we had completed the first cup of coffee, anyway. The flatscreen went on and we discovered a panel of Experts has decided to impose more new standards on “washing machines.”

There was uncertainty about what the new imposition means. Melissa assumed that since it was “unspecified” as to what washing was to be done, the edict must include machines designed to sanitize both dishes and clothing. The engineers in the crowd were of the opinion that it was mostly about what they term “soft stuff.” Or, what we wear to protect our collective epidermal layers. Dishes, we agreed, have significant differences in comfort.

There was a larger series of questions, though. “Who are those Experts?” asked Splash in a plaintive tone. “And who exactly invited them into the basement to check on how much water and soap are used to clean our clothes?”

That question hung in the air without discussion, since it was directly applicable to everything else. We hung up the laundry and stacked plates and talked about the big conference in San Diego, since it was related to Navy stuff and the coming conflict with the Chinese. Two Prime Ministers and a President traveled to that lovely city to talk about construction of nuclear-powered submarines and necessary exchange of technologies to enable the process.

That apparently is alarming to the French, who thought they had a deal with the Australians, and the Americans, who preferred the deal go somewhere else supporting a robust industrial capability. And Great Britain, of course, although their Empire is mostly gone. We are naturally supportive of something good for America. We also are in favor of a muscular approach to the security of our friends south of the equator.

The uncertainty thing was about “to whom” it is we would send our declaration of support. Melissa was of the opinion that stringing our used clothing on ropes from the submarines might suffice and permit scrapping all of our washing machines. That would enable the government to ditch all those appliances in our homes. But the original questions remained. Soft or hard? Clothes would probably survive, but dishes would probably be clean but broken, bouncing along the HY-80 steel used to construct the hulls of the subs.

“To whom exactly do we complain? The Consumer Protection Agency? Department of Defense? Do we actually need a new Department to constantly monitor all labor-saving machines and make recommendations that could save the planet in only fifty or sixty years?”

“It would be useful. As it is, the current Experts get to make all sorts of decisions without comment. Then they issue a press release and are busy at something else by the time we have actually finished breakfast and decided what to wear for the day.”

“If there is anything we haven’t worn before. What are the Chinese wearing?”

“Now you are talking about fashion, which is an entirely subjective notion and determined partly by the breadth of the Oceans. It might require a Cabinet-level meeting.”

“What?”

“Building washing machines is something they mostly do overseas. We used to do it here, but it was more expensive using American workers.”

“So now we have to pump more oil to construct and move big ships completely dedicated to moving Whirlpool washing machines.”

Melissa scowled. Splash frowned. Both seemed to be uncertain about how we arrived in a future in which dishes are banging on the outside of the ships.

“Or submarines,” said Loma.

There were some nods around the circle of the Writer’s Section. The problem was whether the motion of the head was in the vertical or horizontal axis. We were confident the Experts would be able to figure it out if we only knew who they were.

We are getting concerned about lunch. Would the cheese on the sandwiches burn or just melt? Buen almuerzo, you know?

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