I have a theory about the state of the economy. This is not unlike millions of other Americans, but I did once earn a degree in economics, the dismal science, as my college friends liked to remind me every chance they got. Of course, that was several geologic ages ago, back before we all drank the supply-side-trickle-down Kool-Aid bullshit.

Anyway, my theory has to do with balloons. Not the mylar, blow-up, party, Look Who's Over The Hill Congratulations Happy Birthday kind, but the big hot air ones that float over the hills and command premium prices for a noisy, smelly, crowded ride in a wicker basket. A few years ago, when the dot-com bubble was still expanding like the Big Bang, and just as doomed to inevitable collapse, there were hot air balloons everywhere. They were visible both mornings and evenings in the hazy distance, drifting over farmland, once grazing the tree tops across the street from our house. They danced in all colors, sometimes several of them in view at once. Then, just about the time the economy slid into the dumpster, the balloons disappeared. I see one on rare occasions now, perhaps twice in the past year. When the balloons start appearing over the landscape again then I'll know that our economic fortunes are looking up.

As an aside, when I was a senior in college, I won a prize in economics. The award was a book of my choice from the field of economics. I requested a copy of Thorstein Veblen's The Theory of the Leisure Class, which had been referenced in so many of my courses (yeah, I know, economists are such a rollicking bunch). The book was, unfortunately, out of print at that time. I settled for some book on human capital that still has a shiny new spine that's never been cracked. Leisure Class is now on my Amazon wish list, just waiting for me to find an excuse to buy it.