A Little Post About Nothing

I must be turning into a curmudgeon. Why you ask? Because I couldn’t get enthused by any of Mama Kat’s Writer’s Challenge topics this week. At least not enthused enough to write on any of them. It isn’t as if they weren’t good topics, I just couldn’t sink my writing teeth into them. Oh well.



Today was indeed cool (in fact it is a glorious 28 degrees as I write), but the forecast snow missed us. We settled for rain and freezing temperatures. I find it wryly ironic that I spend so much time waiting for the warmer weather and then a long time wishing it would cool off again. So I have no real right to be dismayed when spring is a fleeting phenomena; I know it will be hotter than I desire soon enough. Guess I should just settle back and enjoy the drear.


Blogger seems to be having issues tonight, so no pictures or images or deep content tonight. Is it just me or has blogger become a bit less reliable of late? Especially the image functions.


Back to the salt mines.

Oddities of an evening

It’s cold and windy and raining outside and here I am inside with a soaked dog. There is nothing like having a soaked long-haired dog like Molly wanting to lay her dripping muzzle in your lap. What more could a man ask for?

(Tagged art courtesy of Banksy.)
Aside from the damp dog and weather, all is copacetic. {*grin*}
Fitting with the mood of the evening, I present five odd facts for your edification:
  • The symbol above the 3 key (#) is an octothrope. Contrary to all the masses who incorrectly call it the pound sign or number sign.
  • The eye of an ostrich is bigger than its brain.
  • A pregnant goldfish is called a twit. Thus all of you who post on a certain service featuring a blue bird logo and 140 character limits are abusing pregnant goldfish.
  • Dueling is legal in Paraguay as long as both parties are registered blood donors.
  • A quarter has 119 groves around its edge.
So what strikes you as odd today?

A Rambling Post to Prevent Three Short Ones

Earlier in the week, I got a phone call out of the blue from someone I hadn’t spoken to or thought of since high school some 38 years ago. It took me a moment to get over the shock, but then we visited for a bit and he got around to the real point of the call – he was trying to locate a mutual third acquaintance from high school since he had decided to resume an earlier career in photography and the mutual friend was a professional photographer and cameraman. I had to disappoint and tell him that the last time I had visited with our mutual acquaintance was 20 years ago. At that time he was a camera man for CNN and we were both based in LA, but I hadn’t heard much from him since leaving LA.

Saturday was the mother-daughter lunch at the church, so L and MIL had a good time here while I toiled away getting the packets for tonight’s board meeting done. Then in the afternoon our friend came over to visit and them take us out to supper. G, the friend, was in town for the sad task of assisting his brother and sister arrange hospice care for their mother. It is sad; their mother has reached the point where she recognizes none of the kids and is in that petulant imaginary baby stage of advanced dementia. G and I have known and hung out with each other since grade school, more than 45 years ago. So we know each others moms well – we spent many a supper eating at each others house and driving G’s older sister crazy as kids. Now we have both lost our fathers and are a part of what my cohort calls the fatherless generation since we are at the age where most of our fathers are gone. Before too long we will become the parent-less generation as our mothers reach that event horizon. It is sad to contemplate.

Anyway, G and L and I spent the time visiting and enjoying catching up with each other. G lives in the south now, working as an engineer. We see each other once or twice a year. His older brother retired from the IRS and moved back here to the childhood home several years ago and his sister has lived here all her life, so in addition to visiting his mom, he comes back to see his siblings and along the way we get a chance to visit. It is amusing how clearly I remember our first meeting in fifth grade – I still see that same youngster in my minds eye when I think of G – even though we are now both grizzled oldsters with white beards and a lot less hair. And we still  remember doing stupid things together back then that would result in long-term hospitalization now. It’s always good to be reminded of the time when you were fearless and invincible. {*grin*} Heck, G was my wingman and chauffeur the night L and I first went out and he was a groomsman in our wedding. He just can’t escape us!

For Mother’s Day, we had both mom and MIL over for lunch. The day was beautiful, in the 70’s and calm. So after the guests departed home, L and I and Molly went for walk in the park followed by a relaxing nap (See, I told you we were oldsters!). In any case, as the evening wore on, the winds came up and blew hard enough to move the patio furniture about and knock over the basketball hoop, etc. Generally a miserably windy evening with the howling and rattling windows. Made L grouchy and Molly needy. What a combo.

This morning the wind was gone, but L and Molly had to squeeze out the back door to move the furniture out of the way so they could fully open the door. I got the task of setting the basketball hoop back up since L cannot lift it. And of course we had to clean up the bird nests and eggs and little hatchlings blown out of th trees and killed by the wind. The wind made me curious so I looked at the weather forecast for the week. Wednesday is forecast to reach a high in the low 40s and snow! So much for spring. Of course it is supposed to be back into the mid-70s by Saturday. I just love Colorado weather!

Enough for now. Time to enjoy the grey drear before it starts heading for the cold and rain and snow.

The Chatterbox

I was forcibly reminded of just how out-going and talkative third grade girls can be today. I had just finished mowing the lawn when the door bell rang and a young woman from down the street and her daughter were at the door. Of course Molly was going wild hoping to get petted, the daughter was in heaven to spot a new dog to play with, and we adults were just trying not to get trampled in the ensuing brouhaha.

The mother had remembered that I used to be the mayor and was hoping I could tell her who to see to solve a problem at one of the grade schools. I had to disappoint her and tell her that it was something that the school district would have to fix if it was possible to fix. (The issue was traffic in the pick-up lane at an elementary school. But the pick-up lane is actually on school property and exempt from municipal traffic laws.)

I gave her the names of a couple of people that might be able to assist with the problem  and then we visited for a bit. All the while her daughter was chattering on and playing with the dog. From the very talkative third grader I learned all sorts of information in the form of a continuous monologue in my other ear. Mom and daughter stereo if you will.

From the daughter I learned:

  • She was in the third grade.
  • She likes dogs.
  • Her dog liked to chase squirrels and birds too.
  • Her dog had recently died.
  • What was my dogs name?
  • She liked my dog, especially her big bushy tail.
  • When they moved here, her mom gave her other dog away since they couldn’t bring the dog with them and OMG, she didn’t tell her about what she had done until after they were moved and that was just so wrong of mom.
  • She likes to play basketball, did I?
  • She would really like a basketball hoop like the one on the side of our driveway.
  • Was I really sure I wouldn’t like to play basketball.
  • Did I know her dog had died.
  • Could Molly come and play with her sometime.
  • Did I like mowing the grass? Her dad just hated to mow the grass.
  • Why was my yard bigger than her yard?
  • Did Molly have any toys to play with outside/

I’m sure I could have learned any number of other facts, but mom had to get back since she had left dad in charge of the baby. You just never know what your are going to learn when you open the door around here.

Memories and Oddities

Tonight as I was eating supper, I was reminded of the Sunday suppers when I stayed at my grandparents farm. Why? Peanut butter. (I had some peanut butter on celery to go with my salad supper.)

I learned early in life that if you were at Grandpa P’s on Sunday evening and there wasn’t a big group on hand, supper was going to be a bowl of cornflakes or other cereal with milk, buttered toast, and – if you were grandpa – a spoon of peanut butter. One of my enduring memories of my Grandpa P at ease is him sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, leaning back with a smile in his eyes and a spoon hanging out of his mouth as he slowly enjoyed his peanut butter on a Sunday evening.

Of course, all us grand-kids wanted to do what grandpa was doing and have a spoon of peanut butter as well. Grandma had a stricter (and saner) view and prohibited us from imbibing until we attained a more advanced age. When I finally reached an age that grandma deemed responsible enough to partake of the straight peanut butter, I was allowed to try my spoon of peanut butter just like grandpa. What a disappointment!

The actual experience left a lot to be desired versus the wonderful thing it had become in my mind from watching grandpa. If you have ever taken a spoon of peanut butter, you have discovered how sticky and gummy it really is – especially if you are young enough to be a bit impatient. Especially if you don’t have a cup of hot coffee to help melt it on down the throat.

If I had been a brighter pupil, I would have learned my lesson then. But I didn’t, and so a number of years later I can remember being given a bit chew by grandpa while we were out working in the shop. Although he took great pains to warn me not to swallow, I’m sure you know what happened. Yep, I have never had a worse self-induced bellyache in my life. That was the experience that finally taught me that it probably was not wise to want to emulate all of grandpa’s habits, no matter how much I idolized him.

P.S. It amazes me that I can see the Sunday evening table setting with absolute clarity even now many years later. The white bowls and matching juice glasses that I think grandma got as part of a box top or Tang promo stand out and evoke all kinds of pleasant memories any time I think of them. They star in so many of my memories of Sunday and breakfasts and grandpa and grandma’s farm …

Things Done Right