May I Divert Your Attention, Please

What started in March as March Madness, is over.  Virginia won it all. Being away for all of March, I missed most of it.

This weekend, the Masters tournament begins. For those inclined to follow–another diversion.

Which leads to the greater question.  Who’s minding the store?  The worker bees, of course.  Work still needs to be done.

My diversion for the weekend, the big-box warehouse store.  Easter is approaching.  Sure to be even more crowded, with even more than the usual annoyances.

Advice to all–choose your diversions carefully this weekend.

Chasing My Tail

It’s been a busy day. I feel like I’ve been chasing my tail all day. Which is ironic, considering one of the tasks was taking the dog to the groomers.

The groomer is at the veterinary’s office. So Max wasn’t pleased when his car ride ended at the vets. All was well, after he arrived home. A treat worked wonders.

Panic ensued among the staff at the clinic, as a cat patient escaped, and was hiding somewhere on the property. At least Max, didn’t make a run for it. He doesn’t, at present, smell as much like a dog.  As much as I’ve tried to raise him right, Max doesn’t especially like cats, anyway.

Never Ending Songs

My wife’s complaint when eating pasta–the amount of pasta seemed to grow.

Washed the car today. Good weather for December. Kept finding more dirty spots and paint scratches.

I have a healthy appetite, but sometimes porterhouse steaks are too much to consume at one sitting. That’s what doggy bags were for.

Long layovers at the airport. Can’t get too comfortable, because it isn’t the same as home. Ears tuned to all messages played overhead. Maybe through some miracle, my flight will board early?

Graduation ceremonies: On all levels seem to go on and on; before candidates march to the podium. High school bleacher seats are downright uncomfortable. College level graduations, tend to have better seating.

Waiting at the doctor’s/dentist’s office.  You made an appointment and were on time.  Waiting for an hour in a tiny examining room is excruciating.  I know doctor’s are overbooked–doesn’t make it any easier.  Plenty of time to brush up knowledge by reading medical posters on the walls.

Saturday Ravings Post

Common enemies
Procrastination
Fast talking somnambulists
Still clad in footy pajamas
Remembered when
Five bucks, bought
A lot more junk
Demanded–cold, hard, cash
Asked questions
Without clear answers
Whatever happened to?
Who was stronger
Fearless Fly or Mighty Mouse?
Could one escape a runaway elevator
by jumping up before it hit the bottom?
Why not talk to strangers?

 

Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You

“Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” Asked the prankster caller.  “Well, don’t you think you better let him out?”  The caller hung up to guffaws of laughter.

Telephone pranks, prevalent during my misspent youth–along with, “Is your refrigerator running?”  “Yes it is,” was the expected answer.  “Then you better catch it, it’s running down the road.”

Townsfolk knew they were kids from the neighborhood and meant no harm.

Aren’t junk phone calls annoying? During all hours of the day, especially at inconvenient times.

Telemarketers bad enough, political calls were the absolute worst. Always from the same numbers. Unfamiliar numbers, never answered. Didn’t unwanted callers ever get the message?

No call lists never seemed to help. Telemarketers and their ilk, had ways to hurdle such roadblocks. They used the local area code prefix to snare the unsuspecting. Robocalls randomly dialed number sequences.

Wireless phones were not exempted. Junk calls and text messages abounded.

Games played for commercial purposes, or games played by neighborhood pranksters?  I prefer neighborhood pranksters.

Small Talk Monday

What’s new?

Oh, I don’t know

What’s new with you?

Ain’t nothing to it.

How about you?

Now, that the old business was out of the way.

Did you hear about the Chicago barber offering spray-on beards?

No, was it the same as spray-on hair?

Not quite, but almost the same.

For those that couldn’t wait, or couldn’t grow their own.

If I couldn’t grow the real thing, I would just as soon do without.