A Cloudy Thursday

Weather is about to turn cooler–typical for fall. My two dogs are barking at every move the contractor makes across the street. That’s their job I suppose–to watch the neighborhood.

An observation: This blog, after five-plus years, has matured. Not that there aren’t any more mountains to climb. I just don’t feel the same urgency to publish something new every day. A bigger concern, is to avoid repeating myself.

Several bloggers, I followed, disappeared, or no longer actively publish, for reasons known only to themselves.  Situations and people change.  Five years are a long time in the blogging world.

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Words That Stuck Around

Lots of letters–of course
Enough vowels to avoid confusion
Could be blissful, wistful, strong
Not likely to be wasted words
Describing persons, places, things
Peppered with apostrophes
To mark missing letters
Hyphens were popular
As were, compound words
Wait a minute–I said as I pondered
What I’d just written was absurd
Words weren’t supposed to be
Compounded to confound
The best words were those
Used in casual conversations
Not those hard to remember

Highlights of the Week

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Write about something! What was I waiting for? A better story to come along? Something, was better than nothing.

Hurricane Harvey made landfall last evening. The storm continues to batter with pounding rain. Whether any of the outer bands reach here, remains to be seen. Hoping for the best.

And in other news, someone on my FB feed, posted a picture of their favorite brand of kosher dill pickles. That wasn’t fair. I happened to like kosher dills. Has anyone invented a way to share yummy things over the web? I think they should.

Do some people’s food preferences make you crazy?  Sally liked dill pickle spears, but didn’t like gherkins.  What was the difference?  It defied logic.  “Didn’t like gherkins?”  Stop jerkin’ me around!”

In response to questionable behavior, on the part of one of my neighbors, “They didn’t have the sense God gave a goose.” The infraction, I’ll leave it to your imagination–other than to say, it was related, to it being an extremely wet summer.

There’s another run-off election coming up next month.  Two candidates going head-to-head.  I don’t care for either of them.  That’s as far as I care to get into politics this morning.

I’m sitting here writing–nothing’s getting done. The house needed tidied up. The lawn needed mowed and trimmed. There was always next week.

Nothing To Say?

I’ve always got something to say. Just don’t want to give opinions on some things.

National and international news has been dismal of late. Trying to take the high road–not add to the divisiveness.

Love bugs seem to be back early this late summer. Weren’t they supposed to show in September? Maybe they will leave early?

Why are love bugs important? They’re not if you don’t live in the coastal southeastern United States–or, if you go on vacation to this part of the country. Their acidic dead bodies, can damage paint on the front of your car, if not removed promptly.

It’s been awhile since I’ve been without a car. No worries, I can bum rides from neighbors. till the car is released from the auto body shop.

Isn’t it crazy how all the tasks requiring an automobile flood one’s mind. So, I mowed the lawn. Now, I’m too exhausted to think about it..

No Alarm Bells Going Off in My Head

This has been a quiet Saturday. There was a ninety per cent chance of rain predicted. I’m looking out from the ten per cent side of that prediction.

Rain would possibly have made it more comfortable, than the over eighty per cent dew point. So much for meteorological chit- chat.

What does one do when there’s nothing in particular to write about? Write about why there are no subjects about which to write. There are many topics–some of them I won’t touch.

I repaired the vacuum cleaner this morning.  Did that get your attention?  I certainly hope it didn’t.  Two dogs in the household with associated hair clumps, tortured the poor machine almost to oblivion.

Do you dislike posts on Facebook that call for participation? Copy and paste this–otherwise you are an insensitive, boorish, non-believing hypocrite, or some other (fill-in-blank) foolishness. Subjects repeated in a closed loop, eight-track tape fashion, again-and-again.

Do you find “phrases of the moment” annoying? The latest one seems to be “at some point.” At least it has drawn attention away from the other annoying phrase, “at the end of the day.” Because “at the end of the day,” “at some point,” people have to think for themselves.

Loving It and Living It (Without Losing It)

Eclipses

Potato chip clips

Blank stares

Shooting stars

Truces declared

In word wars

Post-it notes cluttered

Ink blots splattered

All over the pages

What was the skinny?

What were the latest rages?

Teases, and taunts

Top tips for this or that

Wear sunblock, wear a hat

Fifty favorite vacation haunts

What was my favorite font?

Why it was important

To know what I wanted

Captions searched

For pictures

Messed with

My mind’s eye

Gave it just

One more try

Mercy me

What just fell

From the family tree?

Wasn’t that pitiful?

If it was anything at all?

Dash and dine?

Anything that was fun

Was fine with me

Conversation With a Friend

It’s been tough to get going today.  Started a post, didn’t like it.  It’s been shelved, till later. What would Floyd have to say?  If I know him as well as I think I do–something like this.  “If you have something to say–say it!  If you don’t have anything to say–then keep your trap shut!”  Maybe this little talk from 2015 will do me some good.

————————————————————————-

“There seems to be a general decline in the ‘effimacaceousness’ of this blog,” Floyd observed–stroking his chin.

“How you figure?”  I answered his question with a question.

“He who answers a question with a question is a fool,”  Floyd philosophized.

“Will you get to the point and knock off the pseudo-intellectual shtick.”

“You’re first and foremost an imaginary character that exists only in my mind.  If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Did I hurt your feelings?  Don’t get your shorts in a bunch.  Just listen.

Floyd was attired for summer–bib overalls and slouchy railroad engineer’s cap.  At least, this time he had on a t-shirt.

Customary brown chewing tobacco spittle stained the corners of his mouth.  He expounded homespun philosophy with one foot on the front bumper of his light blue Ford pickup.

“All I was trying to say–is you need to lighten things up a bit,” Floyd answered.  “Most people get #$%@^& tired of hearing the same negative, mopey )*%@%^* day after day.  I failed to mention that Floyd’s vocabulary would make longshoremen blush.

“I’m glad to see you turned out smarter than your buddy Larry.  He’s purt near broke with three ex-wives.  Hasn’t got a pot to *&$% in.  He should have had enough *&^#$@^! sense to quit after wife number two.”

I hadn’t thought about Floyd for a long time.  Something about unshaven, sweaty men in bibs I’d prefer to avoid–as a general rule.  He was a memorable character.  If one looked past the disheveled, gruff exterior–he always gave good advice.