Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Singing a song
You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head? That happened to me this morning, while I was cutting my hair. I was in the process of sweeping the hair off the bathroom carpet and thought to myself, "There has got to be a bushel of hair here."
Bushel. Now there's word I haven't used in a long time. Why in the world did it happen to come to me at that exact moment. Immediately, I'm talkin' immediately, a little ditty from my long ago past jumped into my head.
Perhaps you remember it, too. "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep...." and so on and so on.
Now, my curiosity was aroused, because I couldn't remember where the song originated. I knew it had to be from my youth, it must have been popular and often played on the radio, and that it was from a time when you could actually understand the words the singer sang. (Unlike today when most songs are loud and mumbled.)
Anyway, I decided I was going to have to research this...shower, shampoo, and shave are going to have to wait. And off to the Internet I go.
I learned the song was created by a fellow named Frank Loessner in 1950, and apparently it was not expected to go anywhere, until it became a song from the Broadway musical Guys and Dolls and was sung by Vivian Blaine. Later, the song was recorded by several personalities including The Andrew Sisters, Perry Como and the delightful, beautiful, talented Doris Day...(Yes, I adored her). I'm sure today there's not a kid in the world has even heard of these people, much less the song.
However, this is what really got me to thinking. Do kids today even know what a bushel and a peck are? I don't think so. As I mentioned it has been years and years since I've even thought of these words, much less spoken them. As a result, and although I'm pretty sure my kids have heard bushel and peck spoken, I'm not sure they even know what they are. For instance I'm sure on at least a couple of times I've told them (when they've accidentally got a smidgen of dirt in their mouths) "It's okay, you're supposed to eat 'a peck' of dirt a year."
How curious that words come and go...and with it a bit of Americana. Sunday afternoon outings frequently took us by farmer fruit and vegetable stands. The staples for displaying them were always woven baskets in two sizes, one was a bushel and one was a peck. Bushels of apples, and pecks of tomatoes. Oh, you could buy just one apple or one tomato, but what a joy it was to go home with a bushel of apples and a peck of tomatoes in the trunk.
Today, 90% percent of the time, if you stop by a fruit and vegetable stand...if you can even find one. What you buy is put into a plastic bag, that is flung into the trunk, and when you get home you find the apples and tomatoes have been rolling around back there with every turn you made. Sigh, I guess it is what it is.
Besides, roadside stands are becoming obsolete, now if you want fresh fruit and vegetables you have to wait for weekends when communities set up "Farmers Markets" in town plazas or parking lots. I confess I've been to some of those, and they're okay, I guess. But....
...there was just something about that surprise, when you rounded the bend of a country road, and found an unpainted, slightly leaning fruit and vegetable stand at the end of a farmer's rutted, unpaved driveway. There were the bushels and the pecks filled with all kinds of home grown produce, enticing, luring you, tempting you to stop. It was often overwhelming. Some of these stands were operated by barefoot children, or sometimes by the 'honor' system. A weathered sign posted the price 'per each' or by the 'bushel and a peck' in white wash, and a dusty, finger-printed glass jar, sat in the corner of stand, you were honor bound to pay. In those days I have to believe everybody did, so everybody won.
There you have it. Another trip down memory lane. Oh, and just in case your curious, a bushel is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 64 pints. And a peck is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 8 quarts.
Imagine me...I'm still singing..."I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a la, la, la, la, la".
Bushel. Now there's word I haven't used in a long time. Why in the world did it happen to come to me at that exact moment. Immediately, I'm talkin' immediately, a little ditty from my long ago past jumped into my head.
Perhaps you remember it, too. "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep...." and so on and so on.
Now, my curiosity was aroused, because I couldn't remember where the song originated. I knew it had to be from my youth, it must have been popular and often played on the radio, and that it was from a time when you could actually understand the words the singer sang. (Unlike today when most songs are loud and mumbled.)
Anyway, I decided I was going to have to research this...shower, shampoo, and shave are going to have to wait. And off to the Internet I go.
I learned the song was created by a fellow named Frank Loessner in 1950, and apparently it was not expected to go anywhere, until it became a song from the Broadway musical Guys and Dolls and was sung by Vivian Blaine. Later, the song was recorded by several personalities including The Andrew Sisters, Perry Como and the delightful, beautiful, talented Doris Day...(Yes, I adored her). I'm sure today there's not a kid in the world has even heard of these people, much less the song.
However, this is what really got me to thinking. Do kids today even know what a bushel and a peck are? I don't think so. As I mentioned it has been years and years since I've even thought of these words, much less spoken them. As a result, and although I'm pretty sure my kids have heard bushel and peck spoken, I'm not sure they even know what they are. For instance I'm sure on at least a couple of times I've told them (when they've accidentally got a smidgen of dirt in their mouths) "It's okay, you're supposed to eat 'a peck' of dirt a year."
How curious that words come and go...and with it a bit of Americana. Sunday afternoon outings frequently took us by farmer fruit and vegetable stands. The staples for displaying them were always woven baskets in two sizes, one was a bushel and one was a peck. Bushels of apples, and pecks of tomatoes. Oh, you could buy just one apple or one tomato, but what a joy it was to go home with a bushel of apples and a peck of tomatoes in the trunk.
Today, 90% percent of the time, if you stop by a fruit and vegetable stand...if you can even find one. What you buy is put into a plastic bag, that is flung into the trunk, and when you get home you find the apples and tomatoes have been rolling around back there with every turn you made. Sigh, I guess it is what it is.
Besides, roadside stands are becoming obsolete, now if you want fresh fruit and vegetables you have to wait for weekends when communities set up "Farmers Markets" in town plazas or parking lots. I confess I've been to some of those, and they're okay, I guess. But....
...there was just something about that surprise, when you rounded the bend of a country road, and found an unpainted, slightly leaning fruit and vegetable stand at the end of a farmer's rutted, unpaved driveway. There were the bushels and the pecks filled with all kinds of home grown produce, enticing, luring you, tempting you to stop. It was often overwhelming. Some of these stands were operated by barefoot children, or sometimes by the 'honor' system. A weathered sign posted the price 'per each' or by the 'bushel and a peck' in white wash, and a dusty, finger-printed glass jar, sat in the corner of stand, you were honor bound to pay. In those days I have to believe everybody did, so everybody won.
There you have it. Another trip down memory lane. Oh, and just in case your curious, a bushel is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 64 pints. And a peck is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 8 quarts.
Imagine me...I'm still singing..."I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a la, la, la, la, la".
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Hellllllooooooooooo!
So, here I am sitting a-top the steps in Times Square. I don't even know what time it is. Who cares what time it is when you are in Times Square. Anyway, as I mentioned on Facebook a while back, the city is working on the north end of the Square, and there is a lot...I'm talking a lot of construction going on. It is noisy, even in the wee small hours. And, that's why I'm here, in the wee small hours, watching construction.
There are some cranes at work, and have been for weeks. For the longest time I wondered what the heck they were up to. Tonight it has become clear. Although at the moment the cranes sit silent, below me, a bunch of guys are putting together what looks like a huge screen. I mean this thing is huge. It's a flat panel, and the way the metal strips bend, I think they must be made out of aluminum, one guy can lug a panel into position. And, they are doing a 'hand off' kind of thing with them, like 'bucket brigades' of old time fire men.
Maybe it's the cup of coffee I got at McDonalds across the street, or maybe it's the cold air, regardless, I finally get what's going on. They are putting together new screens, making facades, for the buildings on west side of the street, once all the construction is done, advertisements will flash across them, 24-7, and they will help light up "the great white way". Man, I hope I'm still here to watch those crane hoist those screens into place. That is going to be some feat! I wonder if they will do that during the day? I kind of think they will, because I've yet to see the cranes operate at night.
It's cold here and I should probably toddle off to my hotel, but I'm transfixed. Because not only is there construction to watch, there are still people roaming around. Where are they from? What are they doing here? Where are they going? Cabs and limos are still heading south along this famous "bow tie". I'm sure the bars have closed by now, but maybe not. Why are these people still up? The Saturday evening theaters have long since close their doors for the evening, have they been to late dinner at one of the 'swank' restaurants around here? Or, perhaps a charity event? Maybe a private party? Who knows, It's Friday night, the weekend lies ahead. They can sleep in tomorrow morning.
However, in the meantime, I know why I'm here, I'm enjoying my own special "show". Bundled up, hands wrapped around my coffee, I'm watching in wonder as one by one, those men dang those metal panels into place, forming a continuous flat surface, I suspect in a day or two it will look like the one standing upright next to it. Of course, they will have to add the girders first, that should be fun to watch.
New Yorkers takes all this in stride, they walk around the construction site, most oblivious to what's going on, they see this all the time. But, not me. Nope, I'm a construction junkie. This is all amazing. Day or night, hot or cold, rain, snow, sleet hail or sun, this place never disappoints.
Having a ball. That's it for now.
Hugs and kisses.
Me.
There are some cranes at work, and have been for weeks. For the longest time I wondered what the heck they were up to. Tonight it has become clear. Although at the moment the cranes sit silent, below me, a bunch of guys are putting together what looks like a huge screen. I mean this thing is huge. It's a flat panel, and the way the metal strips bend, I think they must be made out of aluminum, one guy can lug a panel into position. And, they are doing a 'hand off' kind of thing with them, like 'bucket brigades' of old time fire men.
Maybe it's the cup of coffee I got at McDonalds across the street, or maybe it's the cold air, regardless, I finally get what's going on. They are putting together new screens, making facades, for the buildings on west side of the street, once all the construction is done, advertisements will flash across them, 24-7, and they will help light up "the great white way". Man, I hope I'm still here to watch those crane hoist those screens into place. That is going to be some feat! I wonder if they will do that during the day? I kind of think they will, because I've yet to see the cranes operate at night.
It's cold here and I should probably toddle off to my hotel, but I'm transfixed. Because not only is there construction to watch, there are still people roaming around. Where are they from? What are they doing here? Where are they going? Cabs and limos are still heading south along this famous "bow tie". I'm sure the bars have closed by now, but maybe not. Why are these people still up? The Saturday evening theaters have long since close their doors for the evening, have they been to late dinner at one of the 'swank' restaurants around here? Or, perhaps a charity event? Maybe a private party? Who knows, It's Friday night, the weekend lies ahead. They can sleep in tomorrow morning.
However, in the meantime, I know why I'm here, I'm enjoying my own special "show". Bundled up, hands wrapped around my coffee, I'm watching in wonder as one by one, those men dang those metal panels into place, forming a continuous flat surface, I suspect in a day or two it will look like the one standing upright next to it. Of course, they will have to add the girders first, that should be fun to watch.
New Yorkers takes all this in stride, they walk around the construction site, most oblivious to what's going on, they see this all the time. But, not me. Nope, I'm a construction junkie. This is all amazing. Day or night, hot or cold, rain, snow, sleet hail or sun, this place never disappoints.
Having a ball. That's it for now.
Hugs and kisses.
Me.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Surprises
"You know why I like spring so much?"
Me: "Because the rain is warmer. I noticed yesterday when I went for the mail it actually is."
Frankie: "Well, that is true but, no".
Me: "Because we can go outside in our bare webbed feet."
Frankie: (Snorting) "No."
Me: "Because we can shake off some of our winter rust?"
Frankie: (Snorting)
I'm trying to ignore her, and have continued typing through this whole conversation.
I've no idea what she's getting at. She does this all the time. I wish she would simply get to the point.
I won't say she's breathing down my neck, but I can tell she's not going to go away. So, I whirl around in my chair, cross my arms across my midsection, lean back and prepare for whatever the heck she wants to get off her chest.
Me: "Okay Frankie, why do you like spring so much?"
Frankie: "The surprises. You know what I found yesterday, so tiny and close to the ground I almost missed it?"
Me: "What."
Frankie: "A Violet, one of the purple ones. It's nestled back in a corner, next to the down spout and garage foundation. Oh, it's so pretty and delicate. I was going to pick it ....but didn't."
She made that sound as though she had preformed a miracle.
"And", she said, this morning I was peeking out from behind the bay window curtain and discovered tons and tons of blossoms ready to burst on the currant bush, too. Can you believe it?"
I can, but I want to get back to work. I've been working on a 'fish' project for days, and can't decide if I'm wasting my time or not. If I'm not happy with the results today, I'm going to chuck the whole idea. Frankie, is simply being a big bother this morning.
"Have you seen all the blossoms on the plum outside the morning room window? Is that gorgeous or what?"
As a matter of fact, I had, yesterday morning. Late last month when we had the melting snow and icicles had started to form, the tight buds on the bush were covered in ice, and at the time I was so enthralled I actually took a couple of pictures of them. Yesterday I took particular notice that the buds had turned into clusters of lemon yellow blossoms. I think this is actually an ornamental plum, although come August a few tiny, bright red, gourd shaped, plums can be seen nestled deep within the branches. There's no meat on the fruit to speak of and it tastes like I imagine paper might, and inside is a cute, miniature football shaped seed.
Well, by now I'm too entranced with Frankie's marvels and delights of springs surprises that I'm no longer interested in my project. Maybe I need to take a break
and a Henry David Thoreau's look around the yard.
Okay, Frankie and I are back. It seems that overnight, the marsh marigolds are flowering, the hyacinths in the mailbox garden all have buds, the camellia bush across the street is a mass of pink blooms. My watercress, wild ginger and wild bleeding heart are up and looking great. The forsythia should have sunny yellow
flowers soon. Oh, and the birds...they are happy and singing up a storm. Now that I think about it, I've started to see all kinds of spring and summer species returning.
I'm glad I took a little break, not only was the air refreshingly clean, the breeze was indeed a bit warmer and discovering all springs surprises was a delight. I guess sometimes a person simply needs to see the world through another persons eyes.
Thanks, Frankie.
Me: "Because the rain is warmer. I noticed yesterday when I went for the mail it actually is."
Frankie: "Well, that is true but, no".
Me: "Because we can go outside in our bare webbed feet."
Frankie: (Snorting) "No."
Me: "Because we can shake off some of our winter rust?"
Frankie: (Snorting)
I'm trying to ignore her, and have continued typing through this whole conversation.
I've no idea what she's getting at. She does this all the time. I wish she would simply get to the point.
I won't say she's breathing down my neck, but I can tell she's not going to go away. So, I whirl around in my chair, cross my arms across my midsection, lean back and prepare for whatever the heck she wants to get off her chest.
Me: "Okay Frankie, why do you like spring so much?"
Frankie: "The surprises. You know what I found yesterday, so tiny and close to the ground I almost missed it?"
Me: "What."
Frankie: "A Violet, one of the purple ones. It's nestled back in a corner, next to the down spout and garage foundation. Oh, it's so pretty and delicate. I was going to pick it ....but didn't."
She made that sound as though she had preformed a miracle.
"And", she said, this morning I was peeking out from behind the bay window curtain and discovered tons and tons of blossoms ready to burst on the currant bush, too. Can you believe it?"
I can, but I want to get back to work. I've been working on a 'fish' project for days, and can't decide if I'm wasting my time or not. If I'm not happy with the results today, I'm going to chuck the whole idea. Frankie, is simply being a big bother this morning.
"Have you seen all the blossoms on the plum outside the morning room window? Is that gorgeous or what?"
As a matter of fact, I had, yesterday morning. Late last month when we had the melting snow and icicles had started to form, the tight buds on the bush were covered in ice, and at the time I was so enthralled I actually took a couple of pictures of them. Yesterday I took particular notice that the buds had turned into clusters of lemon yellow blossoms. I think this is actually an ornamental plum, although come August a few tiny, bright red, gourd shaped, plums can be seen nestled deep within the branches. There's no meat on the fruit to speak of and it tastes like I imagine paper might, and inside is a cute, miniature football shaped seed.
Well, by now I'm too entranced with Frankie's marvels and delights of springs surprises that I'm no longer interested in my project. Maybe I need to take a break
and a Henry David Thoreau's look around the yard.
Okay, Frankie and I are back. It seems that overnight, the marsh marigolds are flowering, the hyacinths in the mailbox garden all have buds, the camellia bush across the street is a mass of pink blooms. My watercress, wild ginger and wild bleeding heart are up and looking great. The forsythia should have sunny yellow
flowers soon. Oh, and the birds...they are happy and singing up a storm. Now that I think about it, I've started to see all kinds of spring and summer species returning.
I'm glad I took a little break, not only was the air refreshingly clean, the breeze was indeed a bit warmer and discovering all springs surprises was a delight. I guess sometimes a person simply needs to see the world through another persons eyes.
Thanks, Frankie.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Beep, beep, beepity, beep...this just in.
So much to talk about so little time.
Heard on the news, (edjukated metrolgist) there's a 2% chance of tornadoes along the pacific northwest coast late tonight...just another thing to get people into a tizzy.
My grandson's a "Stud Muffin." How cool is that? How old am I that I know what a 'Stud Muffin is?
Oh, and I just learned Stud Muffins are not just good looking guys, they are also edible muffins...there are recipes for people......and....some for horses. The ones for horses sound awful, but are supposedly a 'sweet treat' for them.
It actually feels warm...I think the northern hemisphere is starting to believe spring is going to come.
The thermostat on my gas fireplace is actually clicking off for periods of time. Is my house starting to retain heat? Oh, my gosh!
The eagles are the best parents...ever...worst weather...ever, since I've started watching them. Yesterday they brought in extra corn husks and grass for additional insulation to protect the eggs. Isn't it amazing how they instinctively know how to do that?
The tops of my daffodils are starting to crook over...I hope they will start to bloom soon.
I think I've finally decided what I would like to do if I were really, really, really rich. I'm afraid of water so I wouldn't go on cruises, and traveling by air is not fun any more. So, I think I would take all those train excursions you see on Travel and the Public Broadcasting Channels. You know, the Oriental Express, and the one that goes through Copper Canyon...there's a bunch of others, too. Yep, that the ticket, I could probably take my furry creatures along, too.
I've got ants....AGAIN.
I don't think I'm ever going to like pretzels.
Or, licorice.
Some of God's best jokes. Grey hair, wrinkles, aches, pains, and dentures.
Daylight savings time. Why don't we just keep it year round....or not have it at all?
I've just been told, "Time's up." Guess that's all the news that's 'fit to print'.
Heard on the news, (edjukated metrolgist) there's a 2% chance of tornadoes along the pacific northwest coast late tonight...just another thing to get people into a tizzy.
My grandson's a "Stud Muffin." How cool is that? How old am I that I know what a 'Stud Muffin is?
Oh, and I just learned Stud Muffins are not just good looking guys, they are also edible muffins...there are recipes for people......and....some for horses. The ones for horses sound awful, but are supposedly a 'sweet treat' for them.
It actually feels warm...I think the northern hemisphere is starting to believe spring is going to come.
The thermostat on my gas fireplace is actually clicking off for periods of time. Is my house starting to retain heat? Oh, my gosh!
The eagles are the best parents...ever...worst weather...ever, since I've started watching them. Yesterday they brought in extra corn husks and grass for additional insulation to protect the eggs. Isn't it amazing how they instinctively know how to do that?
The tops of my daffodils are starting to crook over...I hope they will start to bloom soon.
I think I've finally decided what I would like to do if I were really, really, really rich. I'm afraid of water so I wouldn't go on cruises, and traveling by air is not fun any more. So, I think I would take all those train excursions you see on Travel and the Public Broadcasting Channels. You know, the Oriental Express, and the one that goes through Copper Canyon...there's a bunch of others, too. Yep, that the ticket, I could probably take my furry creatures along, too.
I've got ants....AGAIN.
I don't think I'm ever going to like pretzels.
Or, licorice.
Some of God's best jokes. Grey hair, wrinkles, aches, pains, and dentures.
Daylight savings time. Why don't we just keep it year round....or not have it at all?
I've just been told, "Time's up." Guess that's all the news that's 'fit to print'.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Tomato Butts
Yesterday I was in the pits, worldly affairs had overwhelmed me. Over the course of the day my spirits got better, thank goodness. I guess you could say I was morose.
I like to watch late night shows, if I get to bed on time, and last night I was there for the end of the Tonight Show, and the start of Craig Ferguson's Late, Late Show. He was having an emotional day as well, it was amazing to see how two people could have such different reactions to the same worldly affairs. Where I got sad, Craig got angry. Man, he was mad, mad, mad. Of course, I didn't blame him. I think we had the reactions we did simply because as two people, standing alone, we knew there was not a dad-burn thing we could do about the state the world is in.
I'm sure we both feel better today. I know I do, oh, I'm not jumping for joy or anything like that, but I have moved on. I've found my glasses, and I've filled my glass with some Jim Beam, Club Soda and lots of ice. It's all good.
Anyway, as I mentioned last week, over the weekend I had a houseful of company. It was a great time. We tackled my Dill Pickle Jigsaw Puzzle. Oh, I had intended to make it hard. Oh, Buddy, was it hard. It only had 252 pieces, but it took us both days to finish it. We felt quite accomplished when the last piece fell into place.
On Saturday we were having sandwiches for dinner, while the girls started work on a new puzzle, I began to prepare the food. As I was slicing tomatoes I happened to mention one of the commercials Brook Shields does, in which she is ordering a salad at a restaurant. She tells the waitress she does not want "tomato butts" on her salad.
For some reason, the first time I saw this commercial, that statement cracked me up.
First, because I'd never heard that term before, and second, because I always, always, put salt on my "tomato butts", and eat them separate.
So, I was telling the girls about this commercial. My daughter suddenly shot me a very sheepish look. Pressed her index finger to her lips, and announced she threw her "tomato butts" into the trash.
What?????
I proceed to tell her how I sprinkle salt on mine and eat them separate, and she could at the very least throw hers into a plastic bag in the freezer to add to her spaghetti or Chile sauce. Nope, she just chucks those suckers. Well, son of a gun.
Now, here's the thing, and I did not realize this until this morning. As I was slicing those tomatoes, I did the strangest thing. I did not eat the butts. I threw them into the trash. Is that perplexing or what? Power of suggestion, perhaps? I've no idea.
All I know is this morning I can't stop thinking about those "tomato butts" slowly decaying out in my recycle bin. I'm sorry butts, I know you would have been delicious.
I like to watch late night shows, if I get to bed on time, and last night I was there for the end of the Tonight Show, and the start of Craig Ferguson's Late, Late Show. He was having an emotional day as well, it was amazing to see how two people could have such different reactions to the same worldly affairs. Where I got sad, Craig got angry. Man, he was mad, mad, mad. Of course, I didn't blame him. I think we had the reactions we did simply because as two people, standing alone, we knew there was not a dad-burn thing we could do about the state the world is in.
I'm sure we both feel better today. I know I do, oh, I'm not jumping for joy or anything like that, but I have moved on. I've found my glasses, and I've filled my glass with some Jim Beam, Club Soda and lots of ice. It's all good.
Anyway, as I mentioned last week, over the weekend I had a houseful of company. It was a great time. We tackled my Dill Pickle Jigsaw Puzzle. Oh, I had intended to make it hard. Oh, Buddy, was it hard. It only had 252 pieces, but it took us both days to finish it. We felt quite accomplished when the last piece fell into place.
On Saturday we were having sandwiches for dinner, while the girls started work on a new puzzle, I began to prepare the food. As I was slicing tomatoes I happened to mention one of the commercials Brook Shields does, in which she is ordering a salad at a restaurant. She tells the waitress she does not want "tomato butts" on her salad.
For some reason, the first time I saw this commercial, that statement cracked me up.
First, because I'd never heard that term before, and second, because I always, always, put salt on my "tomato butts", and eat them separate.
So, I was telling the girls about this commercial. My daughter suddenly shot me a very sheepish look. Pressed her index finger to her lips, and announced she threw her "tomato butts" into the trash.
What?????
I proceed to tell her how I sprinkle salt on mine and eat them separate, and she could at the very least throw hers into a plastic bag in the freezer to add to her spaghetti or Chile sauce. Nope, she just chucks those suckers. Well, son of a gun.
Now, here's the thing, and I did not realize this until this morning. As I was slicing those tomatoes, I did the strangest thing. I did not eat the butts. I threw them into the trash. Is that perplexing or what? Power of suggestion, perhaps? I've no idea.
All I know is this morning I can't stop thinking about those "tomato butts" slowly decaying out in my recycle bin. I'm sorry butts, I know you would have been delicious.
Monday, March 3, 2014
Wallowing
Sigh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't know what comes over me sometimes. By bedtime last night I had aches and pains us 'old people' get from time to time, and I was out of sorts because of it. So, before I tucked myself into bed I took a couple of pain killers, thinking they would not only relieve my aching muscles, they would also lull me into a relaxing sleep.
However, it turns out I didn't sleep well at all, and when I finally did doze off I had a terrible nightmare. I simply don't know what brought this 'funk' on but, I woke up this morning down in the dumps. Wa-a-a-y down in the dumps, and somehow crawling out of the muck and mire seems like a tremendous chore I don't really have the strength or energy to want to do.
Generally speaking I'm a very optimist person, ya' all know that if you are a regular visitor here at the Ramblings. But, this morning I discovered my half full glass had been knocked over and sits empty, and my rose colored glasses are nowhere in sight. I've even been trying to 'knock some sense' into me to no avail. What to do, what to do?
Okay, I know I'm a very lucky person, I have a roof over my head, food in my fridge and cupboards, and just enough money to cover my expenses. So, I've no right to complain. Still...
I watched the news this morning....
I can't help but wonder what our country is going to do next. We've already sent our young brave men and women across the globe for reasons I can't seem to fathom any more, and now with the upheaval in the Ukraine, what exactly is our roll going to be? Aren't we eventually going to have our army, navy, marines and air force stretched so thin our own doors will be left open and unprotected? So that like Nebuchadezzar the enemy will simply walk through our open gates.
And, what about us? The general population, the mythical "middle class"? Those of us who work our butts off, pay our taxes, and still hold out hope that America that used to be can be revived. Are we finally going to throw up our hands in despair and defeat, admitting there is no "middle class", we're all at the brink, edge of the cliff ready to fall into the abyss of "poor", except we're just to scared to say the words, because we know we will fall into it.
Seriously, no wonder I'm in such a 'funk'.
Then there's this wacky winter, that does not understand spring is supposed to arrive in just a few weeks. You want to scream? I do. I'm tired of wearing double pairs of socks, and thermals, and sweats, and sweaters.
I want to feel the sun on my bare skin, and a warm breeze waft across my face and rustle through my hair. I want to feel good...inside, outside, upside and downside. But, I guess that's not going to happen today. Sigh~~~~~~~~~~. So, I guess I'm going to go off and wallow. Yeah, that's the ticket, I'm going to go wallow.
Sigh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I don't know what comes over me sometimes. By bedtime last night I had aches and pains us 'old people' get from time to time, and I was out of sorts because of it. So, before I tucked myself into bed I took a couple of pain killers, thinking they would not only relieve my aching muscles, they would also lull me into a relaxing sleep.
However, it turns out I didn't sleep well at all, and when I finally did doze off I had a terrible nightmare. I simply don't know what brought this 'funk' on but, I woke up this morning down in the dumps. Wa-a-a-y down in the dumps, and somehow crawling out of the muck and mire seems like a tremendous chore I don't really have the strength or energy to want to do.
Generally speaking I'm a very optimist person, ya' all know that if you are a regular visitor here at the Ramblings. But, this morning I discovered my half full glass had been knocked over and sits empty, and my rose colored glasses are nowhere in sight. I've even been trying to 'knock some sense' into me to no avail. What to do, what to do?
Okay, I know I'm a very lucky person, I have a roof over my head, food in my fridge and cupboards, and just enough money to cover my expenses. So, I've no right to complain. Still...
I watched the news this morning....
I can't help but wonder what our country is going to do next. We've already sent our young brave men and women across the globe for reasons I can't seem to fathom any more, and now with the upheaval in the Ukraine, what exactly is our roll going to be? Aren't we eventually going to have our army, navy, marines and air force stretched so thin our own doors will be left open and unprotected? So that like Nebuchadezzar the enemy will simply walk through our open gates.
And, what about us? The general population, the mythical "middle class"? Those of us who work our butts off, pay our taxes, and still hold out hope that America that used to be can be revived. Are we finally going to throw up our hands in despair and defeat, admitting there is no "middle class", we're all at the brink, edge of the cliff ready to fall into the abyss of "poor", except we're just to scared to say the words, because we know we will fall into it.
Seriously, no wonder I'm in such a 'funk'.
Then there's this wacky winter, that does not understand spring is supposed to arrive in just a few weeks. You want to scream? I do. I'm tired of wearing double pairs of socks, and thermals, and sweats, and sweaters.
I want to feel the sun on my bare skin, and a warm breeze waft across my face and rustle through my hair. I want to feel good...inside, outside, upside and downside. But, I guess that's not going to happen today. Sigh~~~~~~~~~~. So, I guess I'm going to go off and wallow. Yeah, that's the ticket, I'm going to go wallow.
Sigh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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