Just two days ago, the new local supermarket, was just a concrete slab. Today, Wednesday, there are walls standing. Interesting to watch construction progress, from the YMCA, across the street.
My furniture upholstery project seems to be an awesome success. Faded areas returned to original color. Have to admit, I didn’t feel confident as to results.
It’s pumpkin spice everything season–once again. Do you have special plans? Just like the Holiday Season, it starts earlier every year.
I like pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake. Don’t care to have everything pumpkin spiced. Pumpkin spice pet foods? Do you think Fido or Fluffy really care?
Get there. Get back. Too much of that has gone on in 2016. I’ve felt like over-the-road truck drivers must feel.
I appreciate the convenience afforded by technology, but don’t trust it as much as some folks do. There’s no substitute for self-reliance. This is leading up to a rant about GPS routing.
Every trip to St. Louis and my GPS suggests going through Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky. In miles, it is a shorter distance. The Monday before Christmas, beaten down by GPS for a number of years–we gave in.
Elapsed time was about the same. Carefree interstate cruising it was not. Too many towns, stop lights, winding two-lane highways, for my tastes. One sudden stop in a nameless Mississippi town, sent the cargo sliding forward, and the cargo barrier landed on top of our two mutts. It took an extra stop to calm the dogs–who were ready to bail out.
My second tech rant is about my laptop computer. Due to a glitch, I had no internet when I was out-of-town. My laptop, for whatever reason, decided it no longer wished to link up to Wi-Fi. One of my tech-savvy relatives got it back on-line the last day.
An observation–it seemed the state of Texas was overrepresented on the highways yesterday. South Carolina and Georgia deserved honorable mentions. There was plenty of time to take an unofficial poll, while caught in a 30 mile traffic jam. Not that I wished to cast any of those states in a negative light.
Year end closeouts–fresh from the spam folder. More of the same, slightly different. An entry from the Russian republic–no idea what that’s about.
- Clock making supplies
- Metal buildings–including church buildings
- LED flashlights–brightest ever!
- Wireless PA speakers–shout from rooftops, or from wherever!
- Active wear (bras?)–were they ever, barking up the wrong tree.
One of the good things about getting older is not caring what others think about you. There’s no chance I’ll fall for any of these appeals. Take that from this prophet of profitable impossibilities.
The same two posts–“Pine Cones and Barbed Wire Fences,” and “Traveling Light” given as reasons. Those wild and wacky Spam Bots–honing in on key words.
For pure entertainment value, I’ll take my spam folder over the emotionally driven, everything politicized drivel of late.
Why does my dog hate it when I sneeze?
With the Holidays fast approaching, I can’t get with it today.
My laptop quit working with Wi-Fi four days ago. I’ve tried everything. The dinosaur PC’s worked just fine.
On the way to gas up the car, noticed something road-killed. Why did I look? It was a fawn, recently hit by a car, the look of frozen fear still in its eyes.
Why do I let things go for far too long and then overcompensate?
Washed the car in shorts and T-shirt, temperature in mid-seventies. In a few days, it will be no warmer than freezing in the upper Midwest. I’m enjoying this while I can.
Christmas at the beach would be pleasant compared to drifting snow and howling winds.
Getting depressed at Christmas is a real thing for some folks.
Secret Santa’s didn’t visit my house, again–there’s always next year.
This is the time of year when imperfections become endearing qualities.
Grandchildren complain about Grandma’s “iffy” internet service.
My dogs check the mailbox everyday, not for Christmas cards or letters, but rather, for scents from other dogs. I suppose that’s what the Holidays mean to them–and all other days.
It’s the most wonderful time of year–as you’ve already heard many times.
I’m offering the following free advice to everyone this Christmas. You don’t have to believe everything you read, see, and hear.
While my thoughts circle further round the drain–who or what the heck is Eddie Redmayne?
Have a Holly Jolly, non-gender specific, carbon-neutral, appropriately proportioned Christmas this year!
Who knew? That this rainy Thursday was going to be “Pie day.” It’s a proper follow-up to yesterday’s “Cookie Day.”
Today we’ll be knee-deep in lemon meringue–not literally, barring some disaster. Lemon meringue pies are a family favorite. My wife’s pies are gaining an international reputation. The frozen pre-made kind would never do.
Transporting these delicious confections is a logistics nightmare. That’s where I come in. Sky-high meringue has to be pleasing to the eye at its final destination.
Eight dozen assorted cookies are a piece of cake by comparison. Which reminded me–pineapple upside-down cake is also on the menu.
“Stir faster, the lemon custard can’t scorch.” “Yes, Dear,” I answered. “Thank you Dear–I’ll take over now.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
Guilt, from ill-fated
Willed to be dead
Forlorn, stray kitten
God knows where
In the back alley
Maria and Juan
Had their families
Put on a good front
Pretended to be happy
Hung on, till the day
To winter sky
The neighborhood fool
Set off fireworks at 6 AM
Flaunted probation rules
Just because he could
Thoughts dark and dirty
It really wasn’t pretty
Talking heads stretched truth
Made excuses for misspent youth
The same, blame games
Like troubles in big cities
Who had the least–the most?
Sometimes toast, was just toast
Geniuses with new smart phones
Texted gossip behind the wheel
Happy scary Holidays, friend!
Welcome beginning of the end
Checkout lines too long
Christmas shoppers are surly
Madness left from last September
Here’s hoping it ends early
Nobody can drive in snow
Either too fast or too slow
All I want is a peaceful dawn
So shut up! Get off my lawn!
Their name doesn’t
Rhyme with anything
Except, maybe Zumba?
They’re luscious little
Orbs of orange-green
With zip-off skins
Sweet juicy goodness
Dribbles descend with
Delight, down the chin
My favorite winter treat
Decorations from a citrus tree
I really don’t mind the seeds
Frightening tales of gluttony and dread
Played over-and-over in my head
Gravy, stuffing–calories I didn’t need
Mashed potato mountains–unending greed
Maybe this year, If I stay in bed?
My expanding waistline will thank me