Tomorrow is July 4th. No mystery to anyone. I’m a live and let live guy. I don’t bother anyone, and, in turn, don’t expect to be bothered. I volunteer when things are needed in the neighborhood.
Fireworks are legal in my area. There will be sounds of fireworks for at least the next five nights. Why does that matter? I’m a pet owner, and my dog will be terrified by noise for the duration.
It’s so bad in this neighborhood, I’ve left the area during the holiday. There was noise there, too. Just not as bad. Spent firework casings found in the yard upon my return, made me think ill of my neighbors.
The thought of something landing on my roof, and my house catching fire is quite unnerving. Discharge of firearms is the worst danger. There will be lives lost, injuries, due to celebrations gone wrong. Everyone, celebrate and please be safe!
Smelled of sulfur
Soot, stained insides
Outsides of everything
Who still knew
How to bank a fire
So it lasted till morning?
Mine tailings, shafts
Abandoned, concrete filled
Scars, both seen and unseen
What was left
From when coal was king?
No coal, no industrial revolution
Answered, Old King Coal
What started in March as March Madness, is over. Virginia won it all. Being away for all of March, I missed most of it.
This weekend, the Masters tournament begins. For those inclined to follow–another diversion.
Which leads to the greater question. Who’s minding the store? The worker bees, of course. Work still needs to be done.
My diversion for the weekend, the big-box warehouse store. Easter is approaching. Sure to be even more crowded, with even more than the usual annoyances.
Advice to all–choose your diversions carefully this weekend.
I was gone two-weeks over the Holidays. Longer, than intended to be.
My brother-in-law’s memorial service, was dignified and simple. Just a small group of relatives, friends, and acquaintances attended.
Anyone that wished to speak, was welcomed. Mostly, there were quiet conversations scattered about the reception area. Without being morose, that’s the way I’d like to be remembered.
Greeted with warm, moist weather upon my return. That was, after eleven hours of travel in consistent rain and wind.
For myself, I’m wishing for a year without as many extreme emotional ups and downs. Wishing everyone a happy and prosperous New Year!
Old sayings, adages, there were bunches of them–and many variations. Some carried the intended meaning, some were head-scratchers. How about some new, old sayings?
Between a rock and a hard place. Misinterpreted as, between a rock and a hot plate. The alternative would be much more painful.
People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. What about, people in glass houses, should always be discretely and appropriately attired?
Even a blind hog finds the acorn sometimes. The blind animals varied, blind dogs, squirrels–all searched for acorns.
If you grumble, you’ll often stumble. I made that one up for constant complainers.
A rolling stone gathers no moss. As far as I know, no one ever said, “A Rolling Stone gathered no moths.” It would also be true. This was probably inspiration for the famous rock band with Mick Jagger? What about Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone?”
Empty barrels rattled the loudest. This could be modernized to, “Those with nothing to back arguments, talked the loudest.”
If it thundered in December, it would snow in May. This one from my upbringing in the upper Midwest.
He who laughed first, laughed last. On this first day of Spring, Mother Nature had the last laugh.
That’s so not you. “Not You (s)” popular phrase used in successful realtor. com commercial. “Not You (s)” interchangeable with “loser (s).”
Right turns from the left hand lanes and vice versa.
Retirement doesn’t mean nothing to do.
All things in moderation, doesn’t mean, no fun.
Don’t have a target on my back for survey takers, pollsters, telemarketers.
Blog posts begin with first key strokes, then first words.
Correspondence from retirement accounts, health care providers, government documents required law degrees to decipher.
Robo-calls from HMO’s assumed the worst about client’s health needs. Fortunately, I am still able to feed and dress myself–knock wood.
Being awakened by my dog every two hours last night for no apparent reason.
Saturday Night’s All Right For Fighting. Another Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody. There are a lot more songs about Saturday.
Except it’s still Friday, at this writing. No use lamenting Saturday in advance.
I have to save my strength for tomorrow’s monthly trip to the warehouse discount store. If nothing else, it affords ample opportunities for people watching and group dynamics.
There may indeed be some sad Saturday night sentimentality, after a few dozen trips up and down the aisles, then waiting in long checkout lines.