Clear Days & Fog-Shrouded Thoughts

Bless me or curse me. It’s been [five], no, six days since my last post.

No particular reason. Getting started was the hardest thing.
Here’s what I had to work with–miscellaneous titles, with nothing following.  Wasn’t “jambs,” as in door jambs, a strange word?  It rhymed with lambs.  “Silence of the Jambs?”  No, that was too weird.

Gravel Gertie
Kick Out the Jambs
Long Shadows

When the mental fog dissipated, how could I have forgotten an event over the holidays?  As some of you may know, I crave omelets for breakfast.  To the extent, that I taught myself how to make them.  The highest praise came from my wife.  “Your omelets were better than mine.”

That was before reality “hit the fan.”  Per Dr. “Killjoy” “Your cholesterol is way too high.  Don’t eat eggs every day.  How about some cereal and fresh fruit?”  I gave in, at the doctor’s and my wife’s insistence.  Egg consumption, only on Sunday mornings.  Vacations are an exception.

Recently my joy was eroded.  How could the server have misinterpreted my omelet order?  A traditional Western omelet consisted of ham, tomatoes, onions, Monterey Jack cheese, and green peppers.

After a difficult nine hour drive the day before, and arriving late, it was going to be great.  Everyone in our party of nine chatted incessantly at the table.  My omelet came out last.

Three pancakes on a separate plate came first–as expected.  Then, the shocker–the omelet was covered with chopped broccoli.  Chopped broccoli?  Where had that idea come from?  Yikes!  There was even more broccoli inside.

It was too late for do-overs.  Everyone else was almost finished, and I didn’t want to delay, what would be a short visit, before heading home on the last leg of our journey.

“That was a first.” I complained to our waiter.  He seemed puzzled.  “I’ve never seen  a broccoli omelet before.”  “I can have them make you another one,” He offered.  “No, it’s too late,” I replied.  I liked broccoli, just not in omelets.

 

He Meant Well

Not wanting to proofread and edit text, because nothing better was in the offing.  I’ve no intention of this becoming a burgeoning negative diatribe.

What to write about, when nothing immediately comes to mind?  That in itself is a topic of interest to most of us.

Small business names, some creative, some atrocious:  Hair Apparent–a hair-styling salon; A Touch Of Glass–glass repair shop;  Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang–car repair and tune-up shop; The Big Bang–auto collision repair;  So Close and Yet So Far Away–travel agency; Bless My Sole–shoe repair shop.

I recently found out, that one of my great uncles on my grandmother’s side of the family, was a writer.  I read some of his poems, and found them to offer interesting insights of rural life during the twenties and thirties.

Are most writers introverted?  I’ve nothing to substantiate this.  Like in the rest of society, some probably are, and some are not.  For what it’s worth, I side with the introverts.

 

Can’t Please Everyone

You can’t please everyone, so you have to please yourself.

Writing is the same as every endeavor in life.  If you’re not pleased with what you write, it’s not likely anyone else will be.  I write to attract readers, knowing, not everyone will be interested in what I have to say.

What attracted readers?  Was it sensationalism?  Click bait?  After the click, nothing of value remained, therein. If that was required for success, count me out.

In my opinion, there’s too much, “my opinion matters, yours doesn’t” these days.  Which leads to another conundrum.  How much non-conformity does it take to become conformity?

I intend to respect all opinions–whether I agree with them or not.  And, in turn, I would like to be respected.

 

 

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.

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