First Day of Spring

It’s the first day of spring

With all the joy it brings

Shunning impropriety

Not acceptable to society

I will say without impunity

I would like immunity

From all vicious pollens

Bugs, creepy crawly

Things that bite

Advertisements

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.”

 

Glad You’re Back

Where has it been?  The hour missing since last March didn’t really go anywhere.  This Saturday night, we’ll turn our clocks back one hour, to reclaim the hour pirated away last spring.  There will be more daylight in the morning and less daylight in the evening.  Does that still make sense?

Media spokespersons, will, once again pose the question; “what will you do with that extra hour?”  As if, time could be bartered, or traded, like a commodity.  When, in fact, time is measured in terms of how long it takes our planet to rotate on its axis, as it orbits around the sun.

The amount of daylight, depends on the earth’s tilt, toward or away from the sun–in spite of where humankind chooses to fit ourselves during daylight hours.

Knock-Knock Who’s There…

Knock-knock who’s there?

Knick-knacks, knackwurst

Don’t like it?  Don’t knock it

Tired punchlines–nobody cared

Lost among receding hairlines

Expanding waistlines

Figures of speech

Nobody under thirty understood

Fedora hats replaced

By baseball caps worn backward

By those aspiring to be hip and cool

Gomer Pyle, Satch from the Bowery Boys

Sported askew caps and portrayed fools

 

Pumpkin Spice Mania

The weekend is upon us–and the first day of October.

During the eighties and nineties our family took October vacations.  To do the usual stuff;  gaze at fall colors; last excursions to the beach; enjoy cooler weather before winter doldrums set in.

Halloween is nearly here, Thanksgiving will be next.  This is the season of  all things flavored with pumpkin spice.  Those who are so inclined should be in ecstasy.  I’m not changing for anybody.  I still like coffee flavored coffee.

What’s worse than pumpkin spice flavored coffee?  Christmas merchandising in September.

 

 

Overthinking Is Never Done

It was 97, a few days ago.  Finally, some cool autumn mornings are on the way.  Max, the wonder dog will be happy.  Mosquitos and gnats will be gone somewhere else.

This morning, illuminated by flashlight, was a black plastic fork in the road.  “When you come to a fork in the road–take it.”  Thanks Yogi for the suggestion,  but I’ll politely decline.  It appeared to have crusted food on it.

Speaking of Yogi Berra, there’s a family connection.  My first cousin, once removed, attended high school with Yogi.  She grew up in the same neighborhood as Yogi, Joe Garagiola, and Harry Caray.

When it comes to some tech–I’m mentally challenged.  My goal as I age is to simplify my life.  Are there Cliff’s Notes or Tech for Dummies books out there?  There’s an answer for everything on the internet–whether it’s right or not.

Just in time for Thanksgiving; canned pumpkin isn’t really pumpkin.  What?  Apparently, it is mostly butternut squash, because of the smoother texture.  What’s wrong with texture in food?  That’s why I like pears-because of their grainy texture.

I’ve uncluttered my mind for another day.  It’s OK, I’ll just clutter it up again.