Why Was I Here?

I go through long periods of time without dreaming. Or, at least not remembering dreams. That’s not been the case lately.

The latest edition, I was afraid to reveal, because it was so bizarre. It had something to do with my daughter–who resides in the Melbourne, Australian suburbs.

Her home and surrounding property were a popular weekend hangout for revelers. In addition to strangers imbibing various alcoholic beverages, there were some bizarre activities.

Partygoers threw packages of frozen meat, stones, bricks, at the back of her home. It had no effect on the building, as it was constructed of bricks and concrete.

My concern, why hadn’t she called the local police? “If you don’t call the police–then I will.” She didn’t seem to be concerned.

Out of desperation, I went to the backyard and interviewed a small group of young men. “Why are you doing this?” “We’re just having fun. Anything for the sake of having a good time, ” One of them answered.

“I’d hate to be the one that had to mow this lawn–with all the rocks scattered about. And, what about the meat? It’s everywhere. It’s going to stink in a few days.”

Again, daughter number three, was nonplussed. I may have failed to mention, that my vehicle for driving on local roads, was a vintage 1955 Mercury, two-door hardtop.

Not Another Tale Of Neglect

I usually write posts in longhand first, then continuously revise until satisfied. I’m rarely satisfied. Writing with a sprained left thumb has been a challenge. I’m a lefty.

It has taken me a long time to admit, that I could have sleep apnea. My wife has chided me for years to get checked out. The preliminary steps were made last Friday.

I visited a sleep clinic for evaluation and treatment. Of course, when it comes to doctors and clinics, sometimes one thing leads to another. First, this week, I have to have upper GI X-Rays done.

After approvals from insurance, Medicare, and those concerned, then I will have a sleep study done. Which involves having various electronic sensors hooked up, to be monitored as I sleep.

The sleep clinic’s, sleep study bedrooms, were just like those at a hotel, claimed the staff. I’m doing this out of concern for my health. Although, I have doubts as to how much quality sleep, I will get in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar location, hooked up to dozens of monitors.

And In Other News…

Cuteness Overlords
The Quail You Say
Quite Another Organic Matter
Why Everyone Doesn’t Like the Same Old Things
Ceramic and Other French Poverty
Lemon Venom–What a Phenomenon
On That Farm He Had a Dog–D-A-W-G
Keeping It Down–Testing Gag Reflexes
Awaiting Dreadful Fall
Stashed Away In Drawers
Think Backward From One To Ten
Science Behind Everyday Appliances
Invisible Solar Eclipses
Seize the Moment Midstream
Another New Wrinkle
Headlights and Other Illuminations
Behind the Scenes, Seldom Seen

Bovine Appreciation Day

Today, July 9, was designated “Cow Appreciation Day” by none other than Chick-Fil-A, the popular fast-food restaurant and Mc Donald’s rival.

Nearly everyone has seen their advertising campaign, featuring black and white cows, holding up “Eat Mor Chikin” signs.  Cows weren’t expected to know proper grammar and spelling.

Customers were encouraged to wear cow costumes to the restaurant. Depending on their ages, participants were rewarded with free entrees or kid’s meals

Rather than humans in cow costumes, how about some pictures of real cows? From my farmer friend, Craig Roberts, real cows outstanding in their fields.

From the Scrapyard

I sought feel good headlines to no avail.  This happened much too often.

Meteorologists predicted a rainy, soggy, Kentucky Derby on Saturday.

If it wasn’t TV commercials for products and services not available in my area, it was junk on the internet.

Like “Chicken Man” on top 40 radio stations in the sixties. It’s everywhere.

A picture of a Volvo P1800 sports wagon, illustrated a tome about Cadillac motorcars.

Would anyone eat popcorn made in the exhaust pipe of a motorcycle? It captured my attention without appealing to my taste buds in the slightest.

How can the vacation of a lifetime be topped? Live another lifetime?

Hopping Into Your Glass

“I want you to bring me a souvenir from Australia,” A friend requested.

“It has to be small and inexpensive.”

“Something tacky would be good.”

“That’s right, something tacky, small, and inexpensive.”

A bright orange, flexible silicon, ice cube and baking mold shouted, “Take me home.”

“Fun for children, and the whole family. Withstood temperature extremes.”

“Kangaroo ice cubes hopped, right into your glass!”

My friend was pleased with his souvenir from the land “down under.”


Mirror, Mirror

After watching a popular daytime game show, it occurred to me that all large and small household appliances, should have self-contained electronic devices, to allow instant communication.

More importantly, to indulge those addicted to taking selfies every ten minutes.

Here I am making toast.
Searching the fridge for yummy leftovers.
At the trash compactor again–all about recycling.
Yes, I’m hopelessly addicted to pop-tarts.
Here’s proof, that I, indeed, do laundry.
A video of me, taken by my robot vacuum cleaner.