FADAC, your reference to a rudder reminds me:

I used to have a small cafe in the sticks in Southern Oregon. One of my steady customers was a retired cowboy, Bob. I called him Cowboy Bob, though not to his face. After coming in steadily for months, he finally invited me up to his place. Now here I am about 25, and Bob is about 60, and I'm not sure about his intentions, but being adventurous, I went anyway. It was wonderful. He cooked a steak dinner, and then after dinner he taught me to play poker and canasta. He just wanted some company.

Now, in canasta, you can't lay any cards down until you make your initial meld. With two players, it seemed common that one person would meld, while the other would sweat with a handfull of cards, hoping the other person wouldn't go out and stick you with all those points. Whenever I was in that situation, awaiting a card or two to meld, Bob would chuckle and say "Now you've got your tit in a ringer." One day, I'd had enough of that expression, and asked him not to say it. Why the old codger, next time he said, "Well, now you've got your udder in a rudder." We both got a good laugh out of that.

Bob had some different ideas. Getting on in years, he talked about not wanting to become unable to take care of himself. He showed me the hillside behind his cabin (that he built with his own hands) and explained that he wanted to put a coffin in the ground with a glass door. When he couldn't go on anymore, he'd stand at the foot, shoot himself, fall back into the coffin the door of which would automatically shut, so he could be on the hillside with a view of the farm. Oh, Bob, you're too much. Hmmmm......I think I'll go call him!

Margarita