Gray Hair and Wrinkles

A picture of wisdom and experience; gray hair and wrinkles (on someone else).

There is a certain pride on this face; no shame for the gray hair and wrinkles; as it should be.
I have gray hair (actually it's mostly white; for sure more gray than Morgan's here) and I have wrinkles tooooo. For certain I won't be getting a facelift any time soon (perhaps in my next go-around depending on the life I choose to come back into); for now though I have no desire to go under anyone's knife just to stretch the skin over my bones so that it becomes impossible to for me to even smile (I like to smile so that just wouldn't work for me). Coloring my hair on the other hand, has been an option I have long taken part in, since my gray began with a white streak in the front, at about age thirteen (one three). At that time the kids I went to school with accused me of using something to put the streak in my hair; no matter what I said there was no convincing them of anything different. Many years later I am now faced with the dilemma of 'to color or not to color that is the question'

For the moment I have decided to let my hair grow out and be natural; no more coloring. Not certain I will like it when it does completely grow out though, I am reserving my final decision on the matter for another day in the future when I can look in the mirror and see nothing but white. That is a somewhat scary thought & shock I'm not sure I will like.

I ask myself "Self, why did you ever start this very expensive exercise of coloring your hair anyway? If you hadn't begun you wouldn't be having to face this yo yo decision-making now." Well, I did and now I do so the other is of no consequence so get on with it turbo, I say to myself and do whatever you must do.

My father, although I didn't ever know him, apparently had white hair at a very young age so it seems as though I have come by my white hair naturally. I feel resentment about my white hair and he who gave it to me..........to leave it go natural (adding white hair to my wrinkles) will seem to age me more than my years (I'm already a hundred and thirteen & I don't want to look a day older)........to continue coloring it is far too costly..........I resent my white hair; simple as that!

If having white hair is the only thing I have to belly-ache about though, I should consider myself very fortunate........so I will!

Think For Yourself

We must question authority and not ever assume the establishment is right, has the answers or knows what is best for all of us. How else can we learn to think for ourselves if we don't question? We must not assume that because the majority is doing something, it is the right thing to do.

Our existence is being soothed by rules to live by, regulations, political & religious authority, educational authority.....everyone from every direction is telling us what is good for us, what to do and how to do it, when to take action, what action to take, what to eat......the list is endless. As time goes on we continue to lose more and more control over our lives. We allow more interferance by demanding someone take charge rather than taking responsibility for ourselves. We must think for ourselves.

We have allowed censorship of perfectly good reading material; perfectly enjoyable films. Why is it that someone else should be able to decide for each of us what is suitable to read/see and what is unsuitable?

We have allowed laws regulating what we can say, when we can say it, and where we can say it. Why should we allow someone else responsibility over the words we speak?

We have allowed others to tell us what we are looking for when only we can possibly know that, by asking of ourselves. There are plenty of people standing by willing to tell us exactly what we want. Why are we allowing others that power over us? Have the courage to grow and become who you want to be, not what someone thinks you should be.

These are controversial issues; I am aware of that and also that there are two sides to every issue; I should still have the freedom and the right to make my own decisions surrounding these and many other issues that are now being decided for me. I want to think for myself.........and........you should want to think for yourself as well. The more we continue to give away our rights to decide on these issues, the less freedom we will have to live our lives the way we want. The more we work to satisfy everyone else the sooner we will dwindle our identity completely away.

Dr. Seuss said "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

Warm and Cozy

We have National Friendship Day, we have Women's Friendship Day, we have International Friendship Month, we have Old Friends Week, New Friends Week and so on.

Friends are special so I have decided that today and every day is Friendship Day.

To my friends on this day, I love you and I hope your day today and all your tomorrows are full of warm and cozy moments.

Tea and Crumpets With the Queen

Breaking from some fifty years ago, I watch many very fond memories flicking towards me (as in the quick flicks of the previews in a movie) from the eyes of these old boots. It was a pair very like them, just a tad smaller, I used to place my little-girl feet inside, lace up around my little-girl legs and walk my little-girl body away in, across the farm yard, as proud as any new mama of her brand new baby.

Feeling the comfort once secured from wearing them, withdrawing to those little-girl feet, little-girl legs and perching a baseball hat on that little-girl body is effortless when I look at these boots. They switch me back to a shy little girl who loved to wear and play in boys old hats and boots.

Picturing now the dirt path down to the old car I used to spend a lot of my pretend life in, I can feel the wind blowing the braids that hung out from the ball cap I wore every day. Rushing along in my old boots I would hop in that broken down old car that was merely a body, push the starter button to the sounds Urrrr.....Urrrr......Urrrr, sit back turning the steering wheel this way then that, bounce up and down in my seat over the imaginary bumps in the pretend road, finally reach my destination where I would hop out, go inside the general store (a pile of old boards kept for some construction project or another) and pick up some flour and sugar (a stash of old containers placed for just this ocassion). Then I would go back to that old car, hop in the driver's seat again and head back home. All this never having to leave the yard. I was always sad when my mom would call me in to dinner or supper, especially supper because that meant there wasn't much of the day left to do all I had to do, alone in my little imaginary world, for soon it would be time for bed. I could always manage to sneak my ball cap into bed though so I would have it first thing when my eyes opened in the morning and with my old boots beside my bed I could be ready to go almost before anyone knew I was awake.
Come Sunday at our house my mom used to dress me up for Church or Sunday School. As the years grew on me that became quite a chore for her because I would fight that plight, boot and hat. Running away to hide I would cry when she found me because being found meant a fate worse than death; I would have to put on a dress; it was Sunday and little girls must get dressed up and look pretty on Sunday. Perfectly willing to go to Sunday School, I preferred to be pretty in a pair of pants, an old boys hat and a pair of old boys shoes or boots. She couldn't bring herself to allow me that privilege so it was a very sober tear stained face that accompanied her to church; one that couldn't wait for the outing to be over so she could get back to her old hat and old boots.

I'm not quite sure how this strange need was born or where it came from. I guess it could have had something to do with growing up around brothers and one older in particular who took especially good care of his little sister. I'm also not sure when I outgrew this phase of needing to wear old boys hats and boots but outgrow it I finally did.

Times like this though, when I look at the picture, I feel certain I could don a ball cap, lace up a pair of old boots and be perfectly content, Sunday or any day of the week, driving, walking or having tea and crumpets with the Queen.

(WFSC Writing prompt)

Elegant Surroundings Will Soon Be Yours

(WFSC Writing Prompt)

Closed eyes; imaginary droplets (chocolate) fell noiselessly to the table; coming off the very end of that white strip protruding from the cookie; a peaceful silence suddenly broken by a soft haunting melody. I opened my sleeping eyes to find a fortune cookie. Pulling the fortune (already half out) I read the words before they all dripped onto the table "Elegant surroundings will soon be yours". Where had this cookie come from? Who left it here? Was it for me? Why had the words been dripping from the paper? Where did they disappear to after falling? Whatever do you suppose this could mean?
The words had been slowly dripping from the paper yet they remained, still in their entirety as I held the little strip. Elegant surroundings will soon be yours (the 's' trailing and running to the very edge). I read the words over and over again.......once in my hands the dripping had stopped.

I blinked & it seemed I had floated across a misty space taking me inside the most beautiful room I had ever seen.

Gold glistened from trimmings on furniture - an elaborate armoire, a grand dressor with mirror, tall set of drawers; the bed was draped with a velvet burgundy bed spread & floral skirt which rested on a thick rich burgundy carpet; huge fluffy pillows covered with blending floral print lay invitingly at the head. Two armchairs matching the small cherry oak table between them sat close to one side of the bed and a soft plush footstool covered with the same burgundy color as the spread, beckoned feet to rest upon it (a pair of sore tired feet like mine).

Paintings on the wall framed in ornate glittering gold captured my gaze as it slowly moved from beautiful country scene to portrait of a lovely young woman to an abstract.....strange combinations yet all fitting together somehow. They belonged here in these elegant surroundings.

Soft velvet drapes in rich burgundy hung from ceiling to floor; as I moved one aside, placing the folds over the golden tie back on the wall, it was apparent they covered windows which took up almost one entire wall of the room.

Looking outside I could see the long driveway winding through the beautiful red maple trees whose leaves had begun to fall & cover the ground with a cloak of red. They fluttered about slowly in the little breeze. Beyond the drive I looked out at soft rolling hills for as far as the eye could see.

This was a place fit for a queen I thought at about the same time as I noticed in one corner of the room a small wooden stool holding the most elegant crown. It glistened with hundreds of gem stones set in shining gold. What an odd place to keep such a beautiful crown and what elegant surroundings these are, I was thinking.

Again I heard that same soft haunting melody as I opened my eyes slowly, looked around and realized I was actually in my own bedroom in my own home snuggled down under my own covers.

Sliding from under the covers I glanced towards the corner of the room where my eyes fixed on the little round table standing there. It held a black mug full of chocolate drink (once steaming hot I think, now cold), one lone fortune cookie (its fortune sticking part way out) and a single playing card. I walked slowly towards the strange collection almost reluctantly picked up the cookie & pulled the fortune from it. "Elegant surroundings will soon be yours" it said. I pondered the situation for a few moments, then smiling placed the cookie & fortune down (atop.......the Queen of Spades) right next to the cold chocolate drink.

Back to Work

It's back to work (for a short time anyway) this morning. An assignment at a Care Home in Aldergrove will take me through a couple months (maybe three) so I will be occupied & kept out of mischief (for that long at least)...........:):)...not sure I can keep out of mischief for any length of time but this will help. I haven't worked for a year so I truly hope technology hasn't seen as much movement as is depicted in this photo or I may be out in the cold and not ever able to catch up. The other thing I wouldn't want is for things to speed up any more than they are now.........already we move at a clip beyond our ability to keep up (or so it seems to me at times).

Anyway, hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go......I have my calendar, I have my phone, I have my writing sticks, I have my phone (oh I said that already), I have my car keys, oh yes I have my lunch & water.......think I'm good to go!

Last Wishes of Mr. P. Tater

Here I lay on this big heap waiting for someone to pick me. Without using actual words, I plead pick me, pick me, each time another person walks up to this huge pile of brown bulk, with odd shaped red colored things on the left and odd shaped goldish colored things on the right. You have no idea of the competition among us; each doing whatever is necessary to be chosen, from rolling over on each other to standing straight up towards the ceiling with all eyes open wide and a grin from one eye to the next that says "I'm the best".

Finally given great honour. I am chosen. Off to new adventures; a new family to call my own and hopefully a nice warm place to rest after such hot competition; no need to worry about not being wanted.

Short ride to my new home; bounced around a bit in this bag; out of the car; up the stairs; home at last! Oh no, my new mom just put me inside this very cold place; I thought sure I would be able to spend my remaining days warm and comfy. Oh well I can only hope now they don't have one of those dreaded things that attack the likes of me; poking, prodding and picking out my eyes; please please spare me that!

Hours pass, it's dark in here, I'm almost frozen when finally the light comes on and gratefully I feel myself being lifted up and out of this cold prison. Warm hands feel so good. I am placed gently down again upon a hard surface; it's very light here; I hear water boiling, sizzling of the frying pan, a ticking sound; I'm in the kitchen. It seems I will soon have served my purpose, hopefully in a dignified manner but alas I note that is not to be either, as I glance over and see it; long, shiny, curved, sharp. As I pleaded to be chosen I now plead to be spared the humility of having my skin cut, sliced, poked. I face the most horrible, dreaded fate of all our species. Shuddering in horror I watch, helpless and defenseless, as she picks it up, presses it against me and begins to take long lines of that tender beautiful tanned skin from my body.

It is an honour for me to provide nourishment to my new family but I was so hoping to be able to do it in my jacket. Why did she have to use that awful gadget on me? Couldn't she have just washed me lovingly, wrapped me in a foil blanket and placed my in the oven?......after all I'm Mr. P. Tater.

Meet Mr. P. Tater (served his family well).

(Writing prompt from www.writewellu.com)

Get Out of the Way

Heading over to see a 'man about a dog' (as the saying goes) though the reason for my excursion is really neither here not there; the excursion itself is the topic of my concern. All city traffic can be a pain and this day is no different. Moving along at decent speed, we come to a narrowing of this particular street, down to one lane from two. Everyone gets merged into the lane but for some reason immediately slows down to 'crawl' almost.....frustrating......having only one lane available doesn't mean necessarily, one needs to creep along like a turtle. So we travel at turtle speed for a distance........ah a break ahead..........the second lane is being offered back to us........yipeeee........we can get past these turtles who have been causing our blood pressure to rise. Finally we reach two lanes. Some drivers move to the right lane, some stay in the left lane, we stay in the left lane to get past some of the slower vehicles; alas as we try to pass they have speeded up and a bullet wouldn't get by them now.

What's up with that? When passing is impossible we slow down so that traffic can't make any progress at all. When passing is possible we speed up so that we can stay in the lead.......(nobody is gonna get past me boy, attitude!).

Just another of life's little mysteries of human behavior I guess.....oh my oh my oh my!

I think I will just ride my bike!

We Will Always Remember Where it is

"I'll put the key right here on the third shelf underneath the large red bowl beside the little blue bowl; no one will think to look here for it and that way we'll always remember where it is."......famous last words; that way we'll always remember where it is.

There is only this one tool (it is a special tool engineered specifically for this particular piece of equipment) that will remove the cover housing the space for the filter, so being able to locate it is imperative. So you say to your husband, partner, friend, associate, co-worker (whoever else is in cahoots with you to keep safe, this tool) "Let's put the wrench inside this little box (it just fits); we'll label the box 'wrench', place it in this shoebox along with all these other handy little gadgets and put the shoebox back on the top shelf in the closet of the spare bedroom; no one else will think to look there for it and that way we'll always remember where it is.".......those words again; that way we'll always remember where it is.

Now there are extra filters that came with this handy little piece of equipment we just purchased which need to be changed every so often. They aren't very big, must be stored in a dry place and of course we must remember where we put them so we can grab one when needed. OK you say to your husband, partner, friend, associate, co-worker (whoever else is in cahoots with you to keep safe, these filters) "Let's put them right up here on the top shelf of the pantry, right next to the purple whatchamacallit, beside the yellow domahickey; that way we will surely always remember where they are."........another time; that way we'll always remember where they are.

You need the key but can you remember where you put it? You need the wrench but do you recall where you placed it for safe keeping? Without the wrench you can't change the filer; the filter needs changing; can you remember where you put the filters......so even if you knew where the wrench was it wouldn't matter if you couldn't find the filters.

Hmmmmmmm what are the odds things like this ever happen to anyone else?

Why, when you put something away where you are sure you will remember and be able to find it, invariably you can't ever seem to remember where that safe place is located?

Oh the Leaves

(A little fun with WFSC Saturday Writing prompt - Dry Leaves and Humbug)

Oh the leaves; look at them; they are everywhere; they cover the lawn; they cover the street; they cover my car; they cover the driveway; they cover everything but trees (where they are supposed to be)....grrrrrrr. We need to rid our life of these leaves since it seems that winter is inevitable. Even though it doesn't get 'Alberta' cold here in Surrey, we do get a winter of sorts and the leaves do fall from the trees. Our whole street is red in the fall (with red maple) but those red things fall down eventually to give us hours of toil and trouble trying to get them picked up.

Most years we are outdoors come fall (in the rain) trying to get the leaves picked, blown or sucked up. If you can imagine a huge thick blanket of humongous wet leaves everywhere then you will know our plight.

We use the snow shovel to scoop them up (it doesn't get much use otherwise) & get them into yard trash containers for pickup. What's left we rake as best we can then scoop some more. Eventually we do get them picked up.

There is always some smarty coming down the street who has no yard to worry about, whistling away and he says to you with a big smile "Big job aye?". To him I say "Blah Blah Blah Humbug; I wish I were in Alberta where there are dry leaves in the fall!"

Take Me Home

(A version of another Saturday writing prompt from WFSC site)

I walked along on the beach that beautiful Sunday, the sun just beginning to show itself, reliving the wonderful time I had the night before, when straight ahead I saw it; one lone shoe, sitting in the very edge of the foamy water as it pushed inward towards the shore then back into the ocean. Whether coming in or going out (I couldn't always tell in the moment) the tide would soon swallow that shoe, it's story gone forever.

Torn for a time, I wondered whether I would leave it or retrieve it, not sure if the consequences of either choice offered any positive outcome. With each new cycle the soft patient sounds of the water, as it gently twirled around that very tattered worn object that had once been a covering for someones foot, seemed to be urging me to some kind of action. Still unsure, I picked up that lone shoe, tipped the water from inside and looked curiously at the footprints leading away, which until that moment had remained undetected by my usual eagle eye. As I examined the prints that seemed to portray the Nursery Rhyme story about how 'My Son John' had gone to bed, I was feeling more uneasy with each passing moment, still feeling drawn though, to follow the trail.

The book stuffed inside my bag reminded me of my plan to sit awhile on the beach; let the sun warm me as I read. As I glanced at it now the title seemed to compel me more than when it first captured my attention in the little book store. 'Take Me Home' it read. Glancing once more at the book then at the shoe I started up the incline towards the little white church that I could see overlooking the beach where I stood, all the while wondering if it may have something to do with what was quickly becoming my mission.

As I neared the little white church and the edge of the beach, thoughts began to grow as my mind worked overtime to come up with every manner of possibility for the situation I had engaged myself in, each new idea crazier than the one before, until I was certain the story could not have any possible ending this side of tragic. It was with a feeling of dread that I first noticed right next to the little white church, a tiny little blue house. Wondering what I should do I agonized about knocking on the door. Finally I did just that and waited.

Soon the door opened and a most handsome young man appeared. His smile widened as his eyes looked at me questioningly. "How did you come by my shoe? My foot got wedged in when I was walking along on the top of those posts down on the beach & the only way I could get loose was to pull my foot out from my shoe. I couldn't get my shoe out no matter what I tried. It was an old shoe so I wasn't too worried about it. How did you get it out?"

Very relieved, I smiled, explained, gave him his shoe; he thanked me and I turned back towards the beach where I would let the sun warm me as I sat and read awhile remembering his beautiful blue eyes.

Life is...........

Life is a rat race; life is a picnic; life is a box of chocolates..........What best describes your life?

My life can't be described by any one single metaphor on-accounta-because it overlapped, intertwined, ran beside above or under, sat next to, was a part of OR generally speaking just didn't fit ONE alone.

Sometimes my life was like a march of monkeys; I would be eeeh eeeh eeehing along with all the other monkeys, picking the flees from their backs, behind some sap who I thought at the time was this great leader of monkeys......only to find out later the leader lacked lustre and left lasting legible loopholes in his theories.

For a time life was probably like a box of chocolates in that it took on different flavors, but most of them edible and sweet tasting.

There was the time when my life seemed like cotton candy; from the outside looking in, appeared light & fluffy, sort of like a soft white cloud. So long as the spun sugar on a stick sat in the display case life stayed still, safe; soon as it was placed in hands or made available to someone it disappeared like magic without even so much as one little chew.
I guess a few periods of my life blurred together in the thunder storms; could have been likened to a Roller Coaster; accelerating to full tilt with countless ups and downs, spins and turns, even sometimes going completely upside down out of control; times of excitement, anticipation, question, fear, total grief and despair.

There were warm golden autumn seasons of my life that took on the lope of an elephant; the cold frozen brisk white of winter seasons that took on the sprint of a cheetah; the wild new spring seasons that took on the thunderous roar of the buffalo stampede; the strong stable summer seasons that took on the strength & stability of a soaring eagle.
My mom used to make something she called 'mulligan' which was a combination soup/stew; it contained almost everything but the kitchen sink. I think my life, because it contained such a variety of vegetative situations, most resembles her mulligan.

Those are my reflective metaphors.

My creative metaphor is that my life is like the moments just before the sun rises. The mountains (the strength in my life) appear in silhouette, the golden glow of the sun (the light in my life) just waking behind them accents the light fluffy clouds (the dreams in my life), the green landscape (the day to day part of my world) working toward the forefront is marked by shades of color, the closest sways slightly in the breeze; horses, puppies and butterflies romp together; all is quiet, peaceful, beautiful, alive.

Beneath The Surface

A grand lady with a past, she dressed in black; a black so solid and heavy it restricted even rays from the most brilliant stars and kept safe inside the secrets of her destiny; a black solid because it had absorbed the evil of night life and secret forays. The castle had been her home until a recent incident involving a lover whose tangled sharp talons worked their way inside her shield. Too taken by his masked attentions she let her guard down; failed to heed the inner alarm (the very thing she was destined to do) as it steadily blinked its warning.
Sun shone through the wooden shutters high on the wall as she stood on the ground now gazing towards her castle; she felt no warmth from the same sunshine. Almost defeated the lady in black could feel her shoulders lower; the weight of a thousand battles weighing heavily down. A lifetime spent protected behind the walls she now found herself banished from, gave her no footing to begin here on the outside amidst the unknown. Not unknown by example, for her heavy black exterior had absorbed every kind of evil, but unknown to actually have walked and lived with and among the others from this side of her, until now, protected walls.

She could hear the gallop of the horses in the distance; were they coming for her now? Where could she find shelter from the fate that surely awaited her in this hostile place, now that her guise had been so viciously uncovered and she had been banished to walk among those she was destined to protect, who thought of her as the wicked one (but would have loved her had she been at liberty to reveal who was really beneath this dark exterior).

Clutching her blood stained cloak, which bore the battle scar inflicted by the one who had vowed to love her forever, she wasn't sure she would see another sunrise. She was so very tired. Laying down on the cool grass to rest, her heavy eyelids closed; she knew beneath the disguise of this black exterior The Queen of Hearts still lived.

........On this cool grass a kind lady found 'The Queen of Spades'.

Back on January 07, 2010 I wrote about my chance meeting with 'The Queen of Spades', wondering of what significance finding the card might be. Linda suggested I might write about how the card ended up on the grass where I found it.....this is my first tale of possibility....:)

What is a Mom?

For all time there have been and will forever be, attempts to define and describe a MOM. Many hundreds of thousands of words have been written about MOM.

I have again written one more contribution to the attempt.

If your mom is still with you, cherish her and tell her how much you love her, if she is no longer with you, cherish her and tell her how much you love her.

Enjoy my poem.

What is a Mom?

A mom never tells you about the pain she felt while she carried you

the number of times she was sick

or unable to eat certain foods

No......instead she tells of the love that flooded her whole being

when the nurse placed you in her arms

her eyes first set upon your tiny little face

A mom never tells you of the tears with every disappointment

along your journey to accomplishment

even just taking that very first little step

No......instead she tells of the excitement and absolute joy

at hearing the sound of your first word

listening to your first contagious giggle

A mom never tells you how very very tired she was sometimes

when there was no one else to drive you

to Brownies or your evening music lesson

No......instead she tells you how her heart swelled with pride

at the beautiful sounds of the school choir

and she listened to you sing your first solo

A mom never stops loving you or being there for you ever

when you push her away in frustration

even the times you say you hate her

No......instead she circles you with love from a distance away

the distance you allow her to have

distance she never lets grow any larger

A mom never gives up fighting to make this life better for you

even though she is exhausted from trying

when it seems her efforts are all in vain

No......instead she keeps pushing you forward as much as she dare

listening to you in later years tell her

how she should have pushed harder

A mom never turns her back when you decide to marry

someone unworthy of your love

one she feels certain will hurt you

No......instead she watches as you head into such a big step

stands by to catch you when you fall

holds you as the bruises are healing

A mom never stops trying; learning new steps in the dance

even if she can't hear the music play

even when the music stops playing

No......instead she tries her very hardest to figure out the steps

when the music changes in the middle

of the dance you are doing at the time

A mom never stops looking for answers to the pieces of life

that seem the hardest to fit together

even when it seems no answer is

No......instead she keeps right on looking; trying all the angles

worrying; digging deep down inside

searching for the one solution to it all

She isn't perfect; we'll never define her; but she's your mom

Forgive her for the mistakes she made along the way

Hold her, cherish her as much as she does you

Sing with her, love her and tell her you do

Spropchucker on the Loose

Well if he isn't just a poodlefaker I don't know what you would call him; with his winklepickers tied up tight; his tongue wagging like the neighborhood quidnunc; now taken up with that termagant from across the street.

In his estimation things seemed to be unfolding in his favor but before long life seemed to come tumbling down.........
Having already been convicted of moral turpitude he became so discombobulated when he realized he was facing her metanoia that he feared he might be charged again because he wasn't exactly sure how he could handle the situation in a cool, calm, collected manner. He knew however that many people here supported the accidentalism theory so he was fairly certain he could engineer an event that would not be at all associated with any act of his making. If she insisted on the path she seemed to be going down, all he needed to do was set up a kerfuffle while they were out and as attention was focused on that situation he could make little of her in a big hurry.

Finally he had it figured out.........he listened to the susurrus coming from the trees and the mellifluous notes from the radio......

On that note, be sure not to put your oxter near the bunghole; it may have tittynope on the edge...............:)

Now if that isn't just the dumbest thing I ever wrote! Let's try a little bit different version of the story shall we?

Well if he isn't just a man given to taking tea with the ladies I don't know what you would call him; with his boots tied up tight; his tongue wagging like the neighborhood gossip; now taken up with that quarrelsom shrew of a woman from across the street.

In his estimation things seemed to be unfolding in his favor but before long life seemed to come tumbling down..........

Having already been convicted of moral conduct contrary to standards of justice, honesty and good morals, his composure became so upset when he realized he was facing the possibility of her changing her mind, that he feared he might be charged again because he wasn't exactly sure he could handle the situation in a cool, calm, collected manner. He knew however that many people here supported the theory that events do not have a cause, so he was fairly certain he could engineer an event that would not be at all associated with any act of his making. If she insisted on the path she seemed to be going down all he needed to do was set up a commotion while they were out and as attention was focussed on that situation he could make little of her in a big hurry.

Finally he had it figured out........he listened to the soft rustling sound coming from the trees and the sweet sounding tones from the radio....

On that note, be sure not to put that space under your arm near the hole used for filling barrels and kegs (possibly with something unpleasant, who knows); it may just have a small quantity left behind on the edge.............:)

What's a 'spropchucker'.......? I don't know; just some word I made up.

Fat or Slim

Fat...........just a word right? Right. It suggests being fat (or obese).......as in a statement like the person pictured here is 'fat'. It suggests better or richer as in an expression I have heard used to describe what the early settlers had to do living off the fat of the land. It suggests excess as in suggesting an organization might cut the fat in order to trim the budget. It is used to describe good or rich as in this quote by Robert Louis Stevenson "It was a fine, green fat landscape". It is used to describe something big ie: a big fat book.........and so on.
It appears to me any way you slice it the word fat signifies big, large or abundant in any of its uses.

Slim........just another word right? Right. It suggests the exact opposite of the word fat. It suggests small thickness. It suggests small amount. If a person slims down it means they lose weight or become smaller. The advertisement depicts a bottle that is slim or tall and thin.

It appears to me any way you slice it the word slim signifies thin or small in any of its uses.

YET the expressions "Fat Chance"......and......"Slim Chance" are used to mean and do mean the same thing. Fat chance of that happening....and....Slim chance of that happening mean the very same - chances are very good that whatever is being referred to, is not going to happen.

The English language and all its little pieces; there is slim chance that I will ever get them all figured out (or fat chance either)........:)

What To Do When You Are Bored

Getting bored is never on my agenda so if it happens it isn't because I planned it and certainly not because it's something I enjoy. If it slips onto my radar though, I just rustle up something to do. Not always easy to do you say? Well let's see; there are many options available; maybe not for the weak of heart but still choices nonetheless. Let's examine some.
Before you read further though you must be ready to take some risks. Elenor Roosevelt said "Do one thing every day that scares you."

Have you ever thought about baking a cake in the 'buff' (a banana bread maybe)........some advantages in that you wouldn't have to worry about getting batter all over your clothes (or those gooooey slippery mashed bananas). It would certainly be much more exciting than baking a cake while clothed....don't you think? Take precautions when putting the cake in the oven though....anything hanging down could get scorched (you know what Maxine said).
This would fit the risk category.....could it be the thing for the day that would scare you?

There's always a possibility you could leave the cake in the oven long enough to cause large billows of smoke to come pouring out of the oven. This would require a call to the fire department; just think about all those nice young friendly fire-fighter-guys that would come bursting into the house to put out your fire. Be cautious of anything that may still remain hanging........I have seen those fire-fighter-guys with their axes. When they start chopping, nothing is safe and that's for sure!

Suppose you didn't burn the banana cake...........? You could take it over to your mother-in-law's house & tell her that her son baked it. She would eat it no matter how it tasted and only you would have to know that you spilled a big glob of batter on your boooob (which you quickly scraped up and put back into the bowl).

If you don't want to try the banana cake or you don't have a mother-in-law (remember Elenor said you should do one thing every day that scares you) then how about if you grab a pencil/pen & notebook, take a ride into the country, find a nice secluded spot, spread a blanket on the ground under a huge tree, remove your clothes, sit down on the blanket & begin writing (whatever comes to mind). You might be pleasantly surprised at what pops into your vision.......just to be completely free in nature brings about all sorts of possibilities. if you don't try it how will you know what you could have enjoyed?

Just a couple ideas for the next time you might be bored......:):)

Farewell to Kind and Trusted Friends

Goodbyes are not forever

Goodbyes are not the end

They simply mean I'll miss you

Until we shall meet again!!

The author is unknown but a fitting verse for such loyal friends.

"I've decided on the day" he said to me. "Hmmmm & what day will that be?" I say to him. Looking at me rather smugly, head slightly tilted, he said "I will tell you when it gets closer to the date". "All right then" I reply.

I'm a bit undecided about whether I would like to be able, or would like someone else to be able, to decide my date of death......not sure about that at all. Nonetheless he has made that very decision about this long and loyal couple you see pictured here. They have walked with him ever since I came here to be with him (three years this July) and goodness only knows how long before that (he isn't telling...maybe another 4 years). I would say though they have served him many hundreds of miles & deserve now to rest.

It is so very difficult to say good bye; especially a permanent good bye. When it's a sudden death you are left with no choice but to accept and deal with it. (An accidental death for example by being chewed up when falling away from the 10 smelly toes you were housing and under the lawn mower.) A death of choice though is quite another matter. My hat is off to him for having made this difficult decision to end the life of such devoted followers; they have after all, followed him wherever he chose for them to go........indoors, outdoors, on land, on sea, at home, away from home..........they have always been there for him.

Who else would have allowed ten smelly toes to snuggle up inside the same fluffy interior as you for such extended periods of time?..........hours on end! Indredible loyalty!

Who else would have allowed feet and those same ten smelly toes to walk on them continually as soon as the shoes came off? Again........incredible support for being second fiddle!

Who else would wait patiently by the door for your return whenever you decided to go off some place (probably enjoying yourself & leaving them behind)?....... Some devotion!

Parting is such sweet sorrow. George my thoughts are with you; I support you in this difficult process!..........:)