These excuses never worked, anyway. The dogs didn’t eat my homework. Check was in the mail. I never received my bill. It has been an extremely busy day, and I’ll leave it at that.
I don’t know how
To break it to you
Words fail me right now
You’re not first on my priority list
Hope you don’t mind
It’s yard work
Washing the car
Cleaning inside of car
And only for today
Where does this
Leave you and me?
Same place as before
Time will tell
Hope you can see it
In your heart to forgive
My two dog are pouting. Today, was flea treatment day. It happens every month, along with the obligatory two hours of pouting.
A friend requested tourist information from my former area of residence. I researched, sent it via e-mail. It came back twice–apparently the firewall on the other end, classified it as spam. Why I oughta–I’ll show them spam.
On the home front–still housecleaning for incoming visitors. It’s drudgery, but predictable. My experience with the WP platform, hasn’t quite been so predictable.
My beef is, that my post drafts intermittently appear on the WP Admin page. I prefer the updated page. Every day, it’s like bringing in the cows from pasture. My drafts are there–I just have to go looking for them.
It’s early Saturday morning. Early to bed, early to rise–except I’m feeling more dead than alive. Two cups of coffee and the mental lethargy has yet to clear. What’s leftover from yesterday? …A sketchy word comedy about an unsuccessful sad sack scientist.
Spiced up leftovers can be enjoyable. My flooded backyard is left from last night’s rainstorm–that’s negative, not so nice. Spring break is over–also negative.
Puns can be fun. Fun to an impenetrable mind like mine. How about April Rules Day–the day after April Fool’s. For those that grew up in the eighties and later–Mean Teen Ninja Hurdles. That’s enough puns for a Saturday morning.
“Warmed Over Kisses and Leftover Love,” I always liked that song.
New Year’s resolutions are useless. That’s why I don’t do them anymore. Losing weight, getting healthy and fit–all good goals.
Abandoned exercise equipment sat around for years in the past, until it was placed in the yard with “Free” signs. All this stuff gathered dust, took up space, got tripped over, morphed into expensive clothes racks.
Becoming better organized is a lifetime quest. There’s a lot of room for improvement. Last year, I started going the local YMCA. A habit that continues in 2016.
Newsletters proclaim accomplishments of the previous year. Who did what. Who went where. What the family did the past year. Is there a point to all this?
Let me put my cards on the table. You all are on the web–not here. I admired all of your efforts this past year. What would you like to see me talk about this year? I’m left to my own devices. So, I’ll pick topics and run with them.
Topics, the likes of which: Why is everything that tastes good bad for you? Should good-tasting food be outlawed? Would that cure the obesity problem? Do you like the current class reunion, GEICO commercial with Peter Pan?
On behalf of the family, I appreciated the warm expressions of sympathy from all of you. It was, and still is, a difficult time. We’re leaning on each other and our faith.
This year marks my high school fiftieth reunion. I graduated back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.
Optimistic pessimist that I am, knows this for sure. Some things will get better in 2016–some things will get worse. I can’t get any more definite that that.
Do excessive pedantic grammatical correctness diatribes make the blogging world a better place?
Spelling errors drive me bonkers. Maybe it’s just me? They seem to be more common, everywhere, everyday.
Grammar enforcers rail against poor syntax, cliché ridden, pun-infused, pieces of literary trash. I suspect, in some cases, the argument is more about control than correctness.
Why don’t we all aspire to be reincarnations of Hemingway, Keats, Proust, or Samuel Clemens? If it were only that easy.
For most of us that don’t write for financial remuneration–it’s about self-expression. …Having a few laughs. We can be better in all endeavors, not just writing–if we choose to do so.
Isn’t there enough pressure in day-to-day living? Perfection is as perfection does. Lighten up. Stop and smell the roses. There’s a cliché for you.