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.”

 

What You Needed To Know (Stream of Consciousness)

Curtain rose, then fell

Magazine covers

Wrinkled, torn

Inside passages

“I’m Joe’s Liver”

“Why can’t Johnny read?”

Asked, then answered

For those that believed

Cautioned, stern warnings

Kudzu clan was on the loose

Worst earthquakes

Were yet to come

Best to plan ahead

Dream queens, dream screams

Worst mistakes, “they” ever made

Why we dreamed–what dreams meant

Baby bumps, career bump-ups

Deflated balloons departed

Decorated trees in festive mylar

Get well, good luck!

Don’t give up–too soon!

Uncanny caring

Unconscious staring

Big sales, slips and flops

Ubiquitous, unorthodox shops

Favorable phases of the moon

Back to basics, think smaller

How to look taller

Luck, lack of luck?

Hidden gold mines

Could work this time?

You didn’t know

How lucky you were

 

 

 

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?

 

Late Bloomed

Cockeyed optimists

Little Miss Sunshines

Played in yards–with

White picket fences

Puberty knocked

Nobody answered

Social awkwardness

Became closest friend

Bony ankles popped

With every step

Mom was usually right

Which meant someone

Else was usually wrong

Southern fried pies

Blue skies forever

Revivalists, cynics

What else was new?

 

The Sheepshank Deduction

Scapegoats, assumptions

More crooked lines

Than the Richter scale

Walk off negativity

Write your way out

Your royal gruesomeness

For most people life isn’t

One continuous party

Celebrities alone in a forest

were there no media coverage

Would they still make sounds?

Don’t let your collective egos

Bite you on your backsides

On the way out the door

 

 

 

If I’m Lying, I’m Dying (Stop Me If You’ve Heard–Or Don’t Like Really Long Titles)

There’s comfort in the familiar.  On every trip “home” for the Holidays, GPS insists on routing through Mississippi, Tennessee, then Kentucky.  I ignore it for the first part of the journey–it’s been a tradition for several decades.

Four hours to Birmingham, two more hours to Nashville, then another five hours.  Rest stops, unforeseen traffic delays, add another hour or more.

Why, now, have rush-hour delays in Birmingham and Nashville become unacceptable?  Except, for the first 45 miles, it’s all interstate highway.  Google maps promised to cut an hour off the trip. The prospect of new routing at 4 am departure time is less than thrilling.

Leftovers from Thanksgiving: Why did three major St. Louis Metro grocery chains not carry my favorite orange juice with pulp?  Yes, I like my orange juice lumpy and pulpy.  Different strokes.

The same three major chains did not carry “Grands” frozen biscuits–the pre-formed, patted out kind, unlike the ones in a tin.  They taste better, have a more flaky texture–almost like the ones grandma made from scratch.  Maybe I’ll take my own OJ and biscuits with me next time?  That’ll show ’em.