A Cloudy Thursday

Weather is about to turn cooler–typical for fall. My two dogs are barking at every move the contractor makes across the street. That’s their job I suppose–to watch the neighborhood.

An observation: This blog, after five-plus years, has matured. Not that there aren’t any more mountains to climb. I just don’t feel the same urgency to publish something new every day. A bigger concern, is to avoid repeating myself.

Several bloggers, I followed, disappeared, or no longer actively publish, for reasons known only to themselves.  Situations and people change.  Five years are a long time in the blogging world.

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“Three Strikes, You’re Out!” Yelled the Vampire

The world hadn’t ended. It was annual health check-up blood test day. A necessary evil, coincidentally, today is Halloween day.

If the lab technician came out as a vampire, I would freak. Or, what if, even worse–since the World Series was in full swing, she came out as an umpire with vampire fangs?

It could happen if the store had been out of vampire costumes.  And she–the lab tech, substituted an umpire’s uniform, because it was the right color.  Vampire fangs were everywhere, so the two were combined.

Well, that didn’t happen.  Everything at the clinic this morning went well.  There weren’t any vampires or umpires.  My lab tech came to work disguised as a mouse.  She got what she wanted–my blood, with minimal discomfort on my part.

There was someone disguised as one of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz.  With a nearby stack of bananas.  None was shared–not that I knew about.  That was the weirdest thing that happened.

 

 

Fresh From the Backyard Grill

It’s a stormy Sunday afternoon and evening. There have been tornado warnings. I’m grilling shrimp kabobs–under porch roof, of course.

Different things run in and out of my mind. Not getting wet on trips back to the house is of utmost importance. Not overcooking the shrimp is secondary.

Remedies for baldness always amuse me. Not that I have an excess of hair at my age. Such remedies have been around for ages.

Do they work? It’s difficult for me to fathom how fibers from an “overgrown pepper shaker” would bring relief. If they give those challenged by the lack of hair some satisfaction–I’m all right with it.

Another “screen grabber” extolled a scientific discovery that all life may have originated on Mars. That would certainly be at odds with the “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus” way of thinking.  These stories repeat themselves with regularity.

Do You Feel Lucky?

Perambulating under ladders
not a good thing to do
at any time
not just on
Friday thirteenth
Broken mirrors
Spilled salt
Black cats
across pathways
Handwritten
Number one
and thirteen
spaced too closely
resembled the
Letter “B”
Hotels left out
Floor thirteen–
Nothing between
Floors twelve
and fourteen
Did that really
fool anyone?
Luck is right place
right time
We make our own luck
our own superstitions
That’s the way
it has always been

Editor’s Note: Written before my fast-food order got totally botched.  Two value meals, same as I always ordered.  How hard could that be to understand?  Maybe there’s something to the Friday thirteenth thing.  No Friday thirteenth fast-food from now on.

 

Torn Mental Notebook Pages

Feather bolsters

Sea monkeys

Dead armadillos

Cuteness overlords

From the social stratosphere

Propped on front yard mental blocks

No swim zones–surrounded by water

With best of everything, and no money

Phenomenons learned from lemons–without limits

Never volunteered, never admitted to anything

Yellow-bellied cowards–stared

From jalousie windows

Got the blues–their compassion

Eaten by moray eels

Didn’t care for salads

Meat, meat, more meat

Potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes

Until they were all starched up

Played mental games

With sock-monkey puppets

Finished against head strong winds

 

 

The Greater Good

It was the car’s first oil change and checkup. A cold front came through–rare for September. Skies were deceptively blue and beautiful.

Sterile customer waiting rooms typically had libations, pastries, and uncomfortable chairs. It was rare, for me anyway, to strike up conversations, while waiting. Today was different.

Ben, a personable young man, was a rock-climbing instructor. His family was stationed at the nearby, Navy base.

Donna, was an assistant pastor at a local church. Her responsibilities involved church education and outreach.

The thrust of our conversations revealed commonality–we’d all belonged to organizations–church or military, past or present.  Sometimes, bonds formed were greater, than family ties.

Through our collective experiences, we’d learned to get along with others of different backgrounds; because we were part of something greater than ourselves.

“What was it like experiencing a hurricane?” Ben asked.  “It was hectic. Frightening–even.  Evacuations were tense, unpleasant,” I answered.

Gasoline prices spiked the past week, and were still climbing.  Hotels in Northwest Florida were filling with hurricane evacuees.  Bottled water was scarce in local stores.

“Why were hurricanes named after bad people?” Donna asked.  “Ivan, the hurricane, was terrible–like its namesake.”

The name Irma, would forever have bad connotations–just like Katrina.

“If there was ever a hurricane Adolph, we resolved to leave immediately–no questions asked.”