Noises

Loud noises, proud noises

Good noises, bad noises

Happy and sad noises

Nature noises, mature noises

House noises, mouse noises

People noises, steeple noises

Nosey noises, mosey noises

Gentle noises, sentimental noises

Things that boomed

Whooshed, swished, zoomed

Grinding, grating

Clunking, clanking

Thumping and bumping

Dripping, droning

Groaning, moaning

Squeaking, squawking

Cheeping, chirping

Hiccuping and burping

All day and all night long!

I can’t sleep–shut up already!!!!

 

Inch-By-Inch, Step-By-Step…

She stalked my two dogs this morning.  A friendly little Manx cat wanted to make their acquaintances.  The friendship was not to be.  Maggie hated all cats, made no distinction between friendship and aggression.

Maggie, upon her arrival, convinced her brother canine, that he would be wise to follow suit.  Maggie growled, barked; disrupted the normally quiet neighborhood.  The little cat didn’t give up and followed our entourage for about a block.

An unplanned trip to the dentist lies ahead this morning.  All attempts to divert my attention, are welcomed.  Unfortunately, tooth pain has failed to squelch my appetite.  It’s made morning coffee less enjoyable–that’s unacceptable.

Do you remember, girls snipping loops from the backs of boy’s ivy league shirts; collecting them like trophies?  They called them “fruit loops.”  That could have been featured on a “Laverne and Shirley” episode?  Boys that wore shirt collars turned up were thought of as “hoods.” Of course that went along with greasy hair, “ducktail” haircuts, and “pegged” jeans.  I guess that was the predecessor of “gangsta” culture.

Ten RV Things That Drove Me Bonkers (Plus 2 More)

This happened thirteen years ago.  Memories are still fresh.  Living permanently in an RV was far different from vacationing in one.  Fleeing a major hurricane, towing one’s home was the highlight.  Witnessing hurricane destruction, upon returning, was the low light.  A list, slightly revised, of RV living annoyances.

——————————————–

  1. The unfortunate mouse and the fan
  2. Awnings, storms, fun with the wind
  3. Propane gas fails–before breakfast, before dawn
  4. Mud daubers, rains, rumbles on the roof
  5. Evil overloads–snap, snap, snap went the breakers
  6. Blinding sunrises, through bedroom windows, in my eyes
  7. Afraid of the dark neighbors, with searchlight night lights
  8. Couldn’t sleep, thin walls knew no secrets
  9. Winter winds, frozen hoses, cold noses–baby it’s cold inside
  10. I felt the earth move–with every step you took
  11. Hurricane repair, contractor neighbors, partied from dusk till dawn
  12. Evacuation gridlock stretched for miles and miles before we slept

Weekend, Wrapped Up

The weather’s perfect.  Took Max to his favorite place this morning, just as the sun was rising.

I was saddened that, once again, some low-life vandalized the boardwalk overlook area.  Fish entrails were scattered about; big notches cut into the top rail.

On a more positive note, a dead tree near the canoe launch site, was chock-full of roosting cormorants.  Mist was still rising from the water.  I counted 28 of them.  The things one sees without a camera.

Highlight of the day was a trip to a well-known, membership wholesale store–accompanied by thousands of other shoppers, more enthusiastic than I.

The pregnant giraffe that sparked an internet frenzy, is still pregnant.

It’s not too late to fill out brackets for the NCAA playoffs.  It should be easier, now that the number of contenders has narrowed considerably.

Don’t dare mention anything about this to my spouse–her favorite programs on the sponsoring TV network have been preempted.  An unforgiveable sin of omission.

Three more Monopoly game pieces have fallen out of favor–the boot, thimble, and wheelbarrow.  The iron was previously kicked out.

Could there be any significance to the fact that most of the disfavored pieces signified manual labor?  The booted out boot represented typical working stiffs.

How did this come about?  Results of an internet vote, put up by Hasbro, current owners of the popular board game.  Growing up it was owned by Parker Brothers.

This could be an E-bay opportunity for “running-dog capitalists.”  Selling culturally banned items–specifically, banned Monopoly board pieces.

“Keep it quiet.  I may know somebody, who knows somebody, that may have… And you didn’t hear it from me.”

 

Empowered

One too many skinned knuckles.  Too many stinging words from a boss that didn’t care about difficulties–they were just excuses.  Excuses crudely compared to anatomical excretory features, that every human possessed.

The tossed sledgehammer traveled in a steady arc, landed in a vacant lot with a dull thud.  Anger boiled over, settled to a steady drip.  It was February for cripe sakes, and he’d been sweating like a pig.  Larry looked around, embarrassed that anger engaged his persona for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get after it, today, Boss.”  Larry said that morning–before he left the garage.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Larry’s boss replied.  “Three rods in eight hours?  What was he paying him for?”

Empowerment was management’s favorite word.  What it really meant was-whatever happened, you were on your own to get it done.

All new subdivision homes required ten-foot ground rods for utility connections.  An easy task in soft soil.  These lots were back filled with a mixture of hard packed clay and slag from a nearby steel mill.  How could he have been so unlucky?  Things had to change in a hurry.

The answer came in the form of a mobile home anchor–a strong, thick steel rod, with an auger screw at the bottom, and a closed loop at the top.  By inserting a wrench handle through the top loop; adding a piece of pipe over the handle for leverage–the crude contraption worked slow, but steady, after breaking surface hard-pan.

It wasn’t standard issue tooling, but it was too short a walk from empowerment to unemployment.

Ghoulish specters of industrial waste lay hidden underground, ready to spring, without so much as a warning given to future generations.  Sacrifices made in the name of balance sheets and low-cost housing.

All Things In Perspective

Didn’t know whom to believe

Finding positive imagery

Among broken bottles was tough

Stupidity was so rampant

Sometimes I wanted to shout

“Stop diluting the gene pool!”

Nouns, adverbs, personal pronouns

Have gone missing

In the name of brevity

Graduated college

Departed grocery

Foul weather was concerning

Concerning what?  Whom?

See you in a few…?

Miss you ever so…?

Collateral damage from

The educational system?

At the risk of revocation

Of my poetic license

Where did we go wrong?

 

Turn Down Day

As a teen, the sixties rock band–The Cyrkle wasn’t a favorite.  They were contemporaries of the Beatles–never as popular.

“Turn Down Day” struck a chord as an anthem to nonconformity. Perhaps an ode to late night revelers that slept till noon the next day?  “Red Rubber Ball,” shall I compare thee to the bright summer sun?  No way–it wasn’t my groove.

I like to think remembering details from childhood is more a sign of my OCD tendencies, than senility.  There were several “hometowns” during these early years, as my father changed careers.

There were kids that stood out from the crowd–remembered because they seemed world-wise beyond their years; were bullies or neighborhood troublemakers.  Johnny Farkas, from Miss Kramer’s, Garfield School first grade class, in Canton, Ohio–why did I remember your name?

In Greenville, it was the Graves brothers.  During the early fifties, they terrorized my older brother with tales of Russian invasions.  They took advantage, hogtied him to a tree, with the warning, “When the noon fire siren blew, the Russians were coming to get him.”

The McNamara brothers lived next door in southwest Canton, Ohio.  They had things we didn’t have–a television, and BB guns.  The father, apparently had, had some run ins with the law.

In tiny Medora, IL there was a family at the end of the block with a brood of feral, firebrand children.  The youngest boy was three, roamed the neighborhood in his diaper–if he wore clothes at all.  He could typically be found on their front porch smoking smelly cigars.

Why did some of these little geniuses have all the answers about birds-and-bees?  Not that the information given was accurate.  Repeating their risqué jokes risked being overheard, and subsequent punishment.  Were you one of those guys–Johnny Farkas?