And the days dwindle down...

to a precious few.

I don't know where the year went.   Wasn't January a week ago?

I remember when I was young....(mumble, mumble)years ago, my older relatives would say that the older they got the faster time sped by.

I didn't understand, and I waltzed through my teens, twenties and even my thirties as though my life was a ride on a flying carpet.  Every year started with Winter, I didn't mind Winter, except for the cold...and snow.  Spring followed, with pinks, yellows, blues and greens as my world wakened from slumber.  Then came magical Summer, vacations, sunbathing, coffee with a dollop of vanilla ice cream.  Summer eventually, slowly evolved into Autumn and the circle of life started over again with the Winter Solstice.

Then, something happened.  Oh my lord, I turned forty...and I think my world hiccuped, and went slightly a-kilter, because the days began to go by much more quickly.  I found myself saying what my older relatives used to say, to anybody who would listen.  "Isn't time moving faster these days?"

Oh me, oh my.  How could this be?  I decided that maybe if I stopped waltzing and walked instead, I could slow things down.  WELL THAT DIDN'T WORK. 

And every year since, each year speeds by slightly quicker than the one before.  What makes matters worse that by the time I hit fifty, I noticed it wasn't just years that were speeding by, but decades. Crap!  Winter....wizzzz, Spring.....zippppp, Summer....wooooosh, Autumn....Zinggggg. Turns out, even though there are still, and only 24 hours in the day, there are some that simply don't have enough time, tick-tock, tick-tock.  Seriously, where did Saturday go?  Sunday?  Yesterday?

Here's the thing.  I've noticed my children suddenly saying things like, "Where did the time go?" "I can't believe it's December already, where did the year go?"  If time is moving more quickly for them, it's no wonder I'm in a tizzy most of the time, my years must be almost spinning out of control.  I don't even have anything to hang on to, except my wits...so let's hope I don't lose them...yet!

But...

Wasn't January a week ago?

It's here, it's here

Yes, today is the first day of winter, it has been a strange year, weather wise, and I think it is going to end just as strangely.  By now the daily temperatures should fluctuate ten to fifteen degrees, I like that, it's consistent.  I can count on grey skies, a few sun breaks, and rain, lots and lots of rain.  I can also count on (maybe) a week that I have to deal with melting snow. I'm not crazy about that, but I can count on it, I can deal with it.

I enjoy watching the snow add up on the mountain tops, 100 inches there about, I can count on that.  Skiing is very big here in the Pacific Northwest, by now the slopes should be covered in white with all the ski lifts hummmmming, transporting skiers up the mountainside well into the night.

This year...not so much.  The temperatures have been unusually high, and there is very little snow at the moment...the first day of winter...and, we are desperately trying to maintain normal rainfall.  It was not going well...until yesterday, when we finally had substantial rain, and some local flooding.  I believe we were supposed to have a pretty rainy day today as well, but so far, it is just grey and gloomy.

Frankly, all I really want for Christmas is a normal winter.  I want the skiers to have feet of snow to swoosh on, racing rivers to accommodate all the fish returning to the places they were born.  I want the kids to have a few snow days so they can drag their sleds up and then slide down the hills over on the school property.

Yes, although I'm not particularly crazy about the ugly, dirty, days old snow, I do want to stand at my front door and bay window and watch all those lazy, meandering, crazy shaped snow flakes falling onto my front lawn.

Man, I miss normal.  Come on, normal.

Thank you, total strangers

This blog is going out to all the folks who have been buying merchandise from my Zazzle based store.  I don't know how you found me, whether on Facebook, from my flash panel posting here in my blog, or quite by accident through Zazzle.

Regardless of how you found my store, I just want to say thank you, each and every purchase is greatly appreciated and I hope the merchandise was of best quality and you were not disappointed.

You have boosted my moral, and given me the courage to continue producing images I can apply to merchandise that I hope will be to your liking.

Please know, you can reply directly to me here on my blog, if you have any ideas for a particular piece of merchandise you would like me to design specifically for you.  I can certainly work something up for you to look at in my store.  You would never be obligated to buy, but I would certainly try hard to please you.  Check all the blank items Zazzle has to offer (there are hundreds), and if anything 'tickles your fancy', let me know, I will do my best to make something specifically designed for you, either from the images I have already made on an item (for most I can re-size to fit any object) or I will try to create an original image for you.  Again, you will be under no obligation to buy.

In the meantime, thank you so much for your support.  I appreciate every single order, large or small, and I hope you will continue to think about me and my store in the future.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and a fantastic 2015.

GUESWHOORIGINALS.COM

Nummmm, nummmm, nummmmm

A couple of days ago I posted on Facebook that I had purchased some holiday favored coffee creamers (the liquid kind).  The flavors are Dulce de Leche, Mexican Chocolate, Chocolate Chip Cookie and Snickerdoodle.  As I opened each flavor for the first time, I gave it a good shake, then pulled the little plastic stopper ring away, licked it and threw it into the trash. Just a little precursor of what was to come.  Oh, they were ever so tasty.

This morning I opened the last one...Snickerdoodle.   Shake, shake, shake;  I'm singing "It's a Beautiful Day in my Neighborhood".  I pull the stopper away and the smell of fresh baked cookies wafts up my nostrils.  I glance down and there at my side is my constant companion,
the furry one. I'm about to lick the stopper, oh what the heck...I put the stopper close to Zorro's nose, he sniffs, then sniffs again.

What?  He does not like this?  How is that possible? He's like Mikey...who liked everything.  Zorro gives a tentative, gentle lick.  I'm thinking, 'well son of a gun, maybe this stuff has things in it not good for dogs...or (shudder, shudder) people, either'.

I need not have worried, he licked, and licked, and licked and l-i-c-k-e-d.  He l-o-v-e-d this stuff.  I look down at him and say aloud, "See what a good mommy I am to share."  He looks at me, longingly, definitely wanting more. I considered giving him one more lick until I remembered this good stuff was not going to last forever, and is not cheap, so even though I love him very much...I decided I'm not going to share one lick more. Sorry, Zorro.

Okay, I'm not really all that Grinchy, and will share with Frankie, if she behaves herself. "You hear that, Frankie?  You have got to stop being naughty and start being nice.  Frankie, Frankie....you hear me?"

Dang!

"Frankie, you better not be planning something scary!   Frankie!   Frankie????????"

Fa,la, la, la.........la......la, la, la.......la

Boy, oh boy, am I in a mood this morning.

I've got Christmas Carols and Christmas songs going round and round in my brain, I'd like to play some of my CD's this morning but I know they would bring on an avalanche of tears and blubbering, so I'm content with snippets of those musical pieces roaming free across my aging grey matter.

I admit, I've got some favorites...and have for years.  My absolute most favorite is 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day', and I guess one of my least favorites is 'The Drummer Boy'.  I know, I know...go ahead, chastise me, whomp me up side the head.  It's just when it first came out and it was played over and over and over and o-v-e-r I started to pull my hair out. I'm also not particularly fond of 'Oh, Tannenbaum' either...I know, I know, I deserve a second whomp, go ahead it will make you feel good.

On the up side, there are many, many more songs I do like compared to those I don't.  For instance 'White Christmas' is close to the top of my favorites, as is 'I'll Be Home for Christmas', 'The Christmas Song', 'The Christmas Waltz', 'Jingle Bells', and even 'I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus'.

But the one that is my most fun is a little ditty, titled 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer'. Oh, my gosh, how great would that be?  Cracks me up.  Oh, I want to be that grandma!

According to Wikipedia this song was written by Randy Brooks, and was originally performed by the husband-and-wife duo of Elmo and Patsy Trigg Shropshire in 1979.  And, I'm sure you've heard the song quite a few times, but have you really, REALLY listened to the words, they are hysterical. I love, love, love this song.  And so, for your reading enjoyment, and my giggling pleasure, I present to you the following lyrics.



Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe

She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog
And we'd begged her not to go
But she'd left her medication
So she stumbled out the door into the snow

When they found her Christmas mornin'
At the scene of the attack
There were hoof prints on her forehead
And incriminatin' Claus marks on her back

Now we're all so proud of Grandpa
He's been takin' this so well
See him in there watchin' football
Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle

It's not Christmas without Grandma
All the family's dressed in black
And we just can't help but wonder
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?

Now the goose is on the table
And the pudding made of pig
And a blue and silver candle
That would just have matched the hair in Grandma's wig

I've warned all my friends and neighbors
Better watch out for yourselves
They should never give a license
To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walkin' home from our house, Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe!

Oh, best grandma, ever...this is the the story I would love my grand kids to tell their friends that I was drinkin' too much eggnog and got run over by a reindeer...what a way to go.  By the way, open and keep the gifts, get rid of the black, wear ugly Christmas sweaters, eat the goose and the pudding, watch football and drink a beer.

Here's to good ole' grandma, who got run over by a reindeer.

Ho, ho, ho,

Oh, it's a beautiful day in my neighborhood.  It's the middle of December, and we should be ankle deep in rain water rushing down the street gutters.  Instead it is an absolutely beautiful day.  What a wonder to behold.

It's six days plus some hours until winter actually begins.  Yaaaaaaahooooooo.  And, ten days plus some hours till Christmas.  Although by this time into December, I'm pretty sick of all the commercials, I'm loving the car commercials this year.  They still have the huge red bows on top of the new ones that (apparently) some folks get as a present. Although, I've personally never known anybody who actually got one, oh, well.

Anyway, this year some commercials have parents trying to explain to their children exactly how Santa got that car into their driveways, indicating it takes a lot of technical wizardry and elfin magic. I think it's kind of cute. But my favorite is of the young man who helps Santa get back to his apartment after a long day of ho, ho, hooo-ing.  First, the man has to maneuver Santa's bag up several flights of steps, depositing it at Santa's door.

Next we see the man working through the night repairing Santa's suit, which again he deposits at Santa's door.  In the morning Santa opens his door and finds his suit ever so neatly repaired, and he lovingly touches the perfect stitching, perfect Santa smile on his face.

The next scene is my absolute favorite.  Young man goes outside in the morning, and there...in his driveway is a brand new car.  He's so surprised he almost slips and falls on his icy sidewalk.  I'm telling you, no matter how many times I see this commercial, it brings a smile to my face.

There's no technical wizardry or elfin magic involved here, this is just a simple case of human kindness, helping of fellowman and unexpected surprise.  Goodness reigns supreme.

I love this time of year.

Perhaps,

you remember I started a list earlier this month to comply with something called A Hundred Days of Happy.

I had a hard time getting started.  I didn't know why it seemed hard at the time, until I realized what my heart wanted to say and what my mind wanted to say were two different things.  My Happy's were supposed to be actual, and what I felt at that particular moment, not what my mind wished I was happy for (like a million dollars).

And so began my strange odyssey to a hundred days of happy.  I was hoping I would not get stuck on some kind of a trend, since I do have certain quirky things that make me happy, and continually choose things (like and for instance) nature related.  Surely I can be more creative than that.  Plus, I didn't want to have to 'think' in advance about what at that particular moment made me happy.

So, my game plan is:

There is no particular time of day I must record my happy.
The entry cannot be rehearsed but as spontaneous as possible.
I will not be embarrassed by my happy, no matter how dumb it might sound once written on paper.
I will not erase any entry once written (even though later in the day a better happy might enter my mind).

I won't always keep you updated as to what my Happy's are, but I will from time to time write a blog about a weeks worth.  Maybe.  Perhaps.  Or, maybe not.  Anyway, here is my first week's (give or take) worth of Happy's.

Bobby
Vanilla Ice Cream
Washed/Dried/Folded/Put Away Laundry
I'm Still Breathing
Space, The Last Frontier
Johnstown Magazine
Christmas Lights
Having Money to Pay Bills
That My Power Did Not Go Out.
Fresh Ripe Tomatoes

How's that for diversity?  I'm happy, happy, happy.

I'm tellin' ya'

the faster I try to shuffle my feet, the slower I seem to move.

Seriously, where I used to be able to decorate my home for Christmas in only a day, this year it took three.  Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

Where I try to keep up with my daily routine, I tend to concentrate on the fun stuff, rather than the mundane, like loading the dishwasher, where my tiny feet really, REALLY shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

I've been trying to figure out if this shuffle is simply the time of year, or if I'm entering a new phase of my life. I think, I'm entering a new phase.  I think we all, in some form or another adjust (sometimes badly) to these different phases.  For instance, I think I did pretty well going from being a teenager to an adult...piece of cake really.

I even adjusted to independent living as an adult, it was exciting and fun, and full of new adventures.

Marriage, was a bit more difficult than I had expected, but I think part of that was because I moved into a 'blended family', and lots of new and different personalities came into my life. Mostly though it was pretty smooth sailing.

The next jump was even more difficult, where some people accept the next phase by going through 'a second childhood', or 'midlife crisis', I suffered in silence, boo, hoo, hooing while locked in the bathroom.  It was not pretty.

Then, bam!  I became a widow.  Holy cow...and as bad as this might sound.  I was back, baby...I was back.  I loved being independent again...it was great.

Now...,,,well, frankly, I'm a bit weary of the independent life.  I'm tired of repairs, tired of mundane, tired of worry about the future, just tired, tired, tired of looking out for myself...I think I'm ready for somebody to look out for me.  Man, that sounds nice, doesn't it?

So, I sense I'm getting ready for a change.  I don't exactly know what that means, or what exactly I expect or intend to do about this.  I just know I'm pretty much done with my life the way it is.  I simply hope I handle it the same way I did when I went from my teenage years into adulthood.

I should be so done.

But, I'm not.

I keep telling myself I should be done trying to make illustrations for Christmas ideas for my store and yesterday I went so far to make my files neat and tidy and ready to put into my holiday file box. But, I keep getting ideas from catalogs that arrive in my mail box, and that's exactly what happened this morning.

There on the middle page of one catalog was a picture of a moose, an adorable moose.  I immediately began to think how I could change the image, but keep the cuteness and drew a sketch.  Somehow the antlers didn't look just right.  Oh, I stewed and I fretted. I sketched and erased, sketched and erased. Dang it.  I could just scream.

Frankie could see I was at the point of erasing a hole right through my sketch pad and in her ever so 'you're such a dumbbell' tone of voice, reminded me I did have a computer 'you know', and there is a very good possibility there are many, many images of moose to be found there.

(Insert several minutes of silence here.)




I hate when she does that.  Dang Frankie.  I should have thought of that.  Goodness knows Google images have solved drawing problems for me for years now.  There are times the forest is so thick with trees I simply cannot see the moose.  What a waste of a good stew and fret.

I tramp off to the office in a not to ladylike fashion.  Dang Frankie.  I type in Images of moose, and up pop images...there they were hundreds of images.  No wonder my moose looked so funny.  The antlers do not point downward, and but out, upward and backward.  Son of a gun.  I study the images very carefully, scrolling down the page.  After a while I think I can draw a darn cute moose.  I realized it's too late to use it as a Christmas drawing, but I think maybe it might be time to think about illustrations for Valentines Day.  Yeah, doggies!  A love sick moose, perfect for a Valentines Day card, that's the ticket!

Oh dear, I'm going to have to go back to Google, do female moose have antlers?

I remember...

Christmases past.

It's funny how childhood memories came flooding over me this morning with regard to Christmas. And I may have even mentioned some of these in past blogs, If these sound familiar, stop reading at any point, I won't be offended.

I'll start with Christmas stockings.  First, we grew up thinking if we were naughty there would be coal in the stocking...and that could indeed happen because we had a furnace that burned coal and the coal pit was always full by mid September when dad would order a ton or so of it.  So, I tried very hard to be good...starting the week before Christmas.

And, we had stockings that were normally filled with apples, oranges and assorted nuts.  My favorite was the Brazil nut.  There would also be a candy cane tucked into the sock that we could eat at our leisure, while the other goodies were returned to the kitchen where anybody could partake of the fruit and nuts...again, my favorite was the Brazil nut.  Sooo, good...hard to crack open...but the meat was wonderful.

Then I remember dad setting up the tree for us to decorate.  When we were very small it sat untrimmed until Christmas Eve, when Santa not only delivered a few gifts, but decorated the tree as well.  As we got older, we would decorate the tree ourselves.  Some of the ornaments were very old even as I was a child, and the same ones re-appeared on the tree year after year.  Dad was very safety conscious, and always anchored the tree to the wall so it would not topple over.  One year, my older sister and I were left alone one afternoon, and we decided we would surprise everyone by having the decorating done when they got home from wherever it was they had gone.

Diligently we worked, and the tree was lovely, we were so pleased with our labors.  We stood back to admire our work, and...the...tree...fell...over.  Fortunately we were able to put the tree upright without damaging any of the ornaments, then gingerly tip-toed around the room so as to not have it topple over again.  When dad got home he anchored it to the wall, finally I understood why he did this every year.

I remember the first time my sister and I went Christmas shopping downtown, taking the bus, by ourselves...Alone.  Oh, what an adventure.  We had just enough money to go to Woolworths, Five and Dime to buy one gift for everybody in the family.  Woolworths was carrying a new product, one I thought my mother would love.  It was a little bottle filled with an oil, with an orange blossom scent that you were supposed to drop onto a light bulb, that when heated up would send orange blossoms throughout the room.  So, I bought one.  Later on the bus ride home my sister and I shared what our gifts were...lo and behold, she had bought mom the exact same gift.  What a giggle we got over that. (Now that I think about it, I don't believe she ever, once, used this orange blossom scented liquid.)

I remember chocolate chip and sugar cookies, pumpkin and apple pies, and chestnuts roasted in the oven, especially the year they exploded.

We always attended the candlelight service at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church.  How beautiful it was, how touching, how sweet the songs.  The pews would be packed with people who came infrequently over the year...those who showed up on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and Sunrise Easter Service.  The building rafters would vibrate from the multitude of singers. It made my heart swell.

Oh my, what a joy this has been, this holiday remembering.  I wonder, have I told my children all these memories?  I must, if I have not.

What are your childhood Christmas memories?  I hope you think about sharing them with your children, too.

It's certainly no secret,

there are two days of the year that profoundly affect me.

I'm sure you think those days are probably my birthday and maybe Christmas. Well, surprise.  It is neither of those.

My most favorite is the winter solstice.  That wonderful day when the sun has reached its southern home, packs its bags and begins its slow but steady climb back up, up, up to its northern most point in the sky.  I can easily watch this process every morning when I pull open my drapes, I know exactly where the sun will rise for the next six months by where it creeps over the tree tops every day.  Oh, it brings me such joy.  Robins return, flowers start to bloom, the air warms as does the soil.  It is marvelous, marvelous, marvelous.

Oh, my excitement is growing.  Only two more weeks till that wonderful day.

The second day that profoundly effects my mental stability is the summer solstice.  My least favorite day of the year.  Oh yes, from there on, for the next six months, I watch the western sky every evening and again the trees are my benchmark as the sun slowly slinks to its southern most point.  Oh, it brings on a melancholy of both dread and dismay.  Robins eventually leave, flower blooms become smaller and smaller, the air begins to chill as does the soil.  It is woeful, woeful, woeful. 

However, today I will not dwell on that because I'm giddy, and quite gleeful at the moment because my magical day nears. I wish I had a bottle of Blackberry or Peach Brandy on hand to celebrate the coming winter solstice.  I would toast the sun's bravery for having navigated its way to its southern home (again), and wish it happy traveling as it winds its way back to its northern home (again).

God's speed, dear sun...God's speed.

100 days of happy.

Okay, so I guess I've pretty much been an Ostrich with my head buried in the sand.

Yes, I have a boring routine...my days are pretty much the same.  Then, once in a while I break the routine, and something unusual begins my day.

Today I refused to get up at 5 AM, the way my doggy wanted me to, and spent the next two hours dozing in and out of sleep.  When I finally did get up, I turned on the heat and the living room TV. It was of course on the same channel that it was when I retired last night.

I thought I recognized the voice of the woman talking, but went about feeding my creatures before returning to the living room.  The voice belonged to Queen Latifah.  I was surprised, apparently she has a talk show...who knew?  I certainly didn't.  What the heck.  I had to exercise I might as well watch her show as I do.

She was talking about something called 100 Days of Happy.  Apparently the idea of this is that for 100 days you are supposed to think of one thing every day for 100 days that make you happy, and if you actually accomplish this, it will change your way of thinking about life.  Today she was starting her 100 days, and showed a picture of what made her happy, it was a picture of her taking a nap in her office, head on her desk.  So I surmised her happy for today is sleep/nap.

Well, this project seemed simple enough, and what could it hurt, surely I can come up with 100 things that make me happy.  Starting with Queen Latifah's simple 'happy', I'm going to start simple, too.


Hmmmmm?


Hmmmmm?


Hmmmmm?


???????????

I didn't realize how hard it is to come up with a first happy.  How in the world can I do this for 100 days?

I think I'm over thinking this.

I know!   I know!

My today's happy is Bobby.  I saw him yesterday on my vanity when he walked across it as I was applying my make-up.

Yep, today's happy is Bobby.

99 Happy's to go.

The wind bows down the gorge

So far late fall has been brutal with below normal temperatures and wind...lots of wind blowing down the gorge.  Yesterday the high temperature hovered around 30 degrees, and when the wind blew...well, I didn't even want to go get the mail.  I did, eventually, but I hustled myself back up the driveway holding myself tightly trying to ward off the wind gusts. I didn't even have to give Zorro his 'come' command, he raced after me all by himself.

Back in the house I stood in front of the freestanding fireplace for a couple of minutes to warm up.  I was expecting company and kept the blood flowing by dusting and vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms...company never came...however, house cleaning is never a bad thing whether company is coming or not, and my blood was flowing.

However, I did manage to break one of my lovely long fingernails in the process of dusting, and I had to trim all of them back...bummer...because I was hoping to have nails to 'die for' for the holidays, they would have been beautiful with a couple of coats of bright red polish. Here's the thing, when my nails are long I hold my fingers in a different position while typing from how I hold them when they are short.  As a result this morning I'm having a hard time diverting back to short nail position, I'm making waaaaaaay to many typing errors this morning.  But at the rate my nails grow, it won't be long till they are long and beautiful again...too bad my hands don't match the nails.  They, are never pretty and look like a map of Europe that has bluish rivers meandering hither and yon through the countries. Seriously...the backs of my hands are gross.  Sometimes I throw my arms straight up into the air, just to make them (the rivers) disappear for a few seconds so I can remember how the back of my hands used to look.

Too bad ladies don't wear gloves anymore...I'd have them on all the time especially when I go out in public.  Oh, and those lovely parasols, ladies always carried parasols, with lacy fringes.  Seriously, were they not lovely?  Somehow umbrellas don't have the same demure affect.  Sigh.

What I could use today...this winter...is some muffs.  You know, the ones women tucked their hands into when they walked their village street, and some hats that had tall brims, feathers and bows that tied under their chins.  Sigh, we used to be so classy.  Now, it's sweat suits, hoodies, baseball caps or knitted ones, and cheap, usually easily lost mittens.  But, then again, I guess it doesn't matter what we wear when that wind blows down the gorge..."Ain't no 'mout of clothes can keep out THAT kind of cold."

....hmmmmm, hummmmm, deeee, dummmmm....."Button up your overcoat, when the wind blows free, take good care of yourself, you belong to me.  Eat an apple every day, get to bed by three, take good care of yourself, you belong to me."  Yes, when the wind blows down the gorge, take care of yourselves...you belong to me.

Please don 't construe this blog as complaining about the cold, it's not, it's life here in the Pacific Northwest.  You either love it or you leave it, and it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon.

People Watcher,

yep, that's me.  I spend hours watching people.  I don't expect them to do anything spectacular, I simply watch their every day activities.  Wonder where they came from, why they are here, what are they doing and where they are going.

Kids are fun to watch, especially those trapped in the seat of a shopping cart. Some are utterly bored, some try to reach the items their moms have placed there, while others try to grab things off the shelves and dump them into the cart.  Some mothers are wise to their children's shopping habits and load their carts from front to back, that way the kids can't open the cookies, and stray items are easily noticed.

I like to watch women in restrooms.  Some primp and pretty themselves as though they were not happy with themselves when they left the house.  Some can't wait to get out of the place, barely washing their hands, and frequently grabbing a hunk of toilet tissue to dry them, when paper towels are not available and the blow dryers take too long.  Then there are ladies like me, who will actually wipe down the sink and counter top before leaving the room.  Exactly why I do this, I've not a clue. I'm sure Freud could tell me.

This morning, I went to the Times Square cameras, my absolute favorite people watching site, to see what's new.  As you know (or maybe not) a two year remodeling project is winding down, and just last week they opened up a newly finished section.  People once more roamed freely, well within eye shot of one of the cameras.  I was delighted.

Having watched Times Square People for several years now, I learned there is always, always, ALWAYS something new going on along the Bow Tie Blocks, and temporary fencing goes up and down several times a week.  This morning something big was being constructed in front of the red steps, and fencing had blocked off the area.  Mostly I was wondering what the heck was going on, but then...I noticed something interesting about the people I was watching.

They sauntered along the Square, walking, talking on phones or with each other, some sipping something from cups all getting closer and closer to the fencing.  Suddenly, they stopped realizing they could proceed no further.  They stood.  They did absolutely nothing. And that was when I realized something new about people.  They are just like cats that get caught doing something stupid, such as misjudging distance and falling off a window sill. They give you that look..."Hey, I meant to do that."

That's what the people walking Times Square were doing..."Hey, I meant to be here, looking at this fence.  Dah...I'm gonna' turn around now and go the other direction."  This didn't happen just once, but the whole time I was watching.  It was a hoot.  We become such creatures of habit, when something unforeseen and out of the ordinary overtakes us, we cover up the best we can.  "Hey, I meant to do that."

Don't misunderstand, I'm not judging these people, I know I would have been stumped by the fencing, too.  Shoot, as an old person who tends to look down when I walk I probably would have walked right into it...and...knock it over as well.  "Hey, I meant to do that."

I'm just sayin' apparently there will be always something new to learn about humans as we take snap-shots of our daily lives.  So, be careful where you pick your nose or scratch your butt, you never know who's watching...it might be me.  "Hey, I mean to do it."