Truism 137

If a headache is a good enough reason to get out of intimate relations, it should certainly suffice as an excuse not to post.

Let this entertain you instead

Great possibilities

I’m confessing right off the bat. This not a fresh post. I have a 4:20 ayem wake up call scheduled to make the opening shift today. I sniffed under the plastic Cool Whip lid where I had the post stored and it smelled fine to me. Just stir it around, it’ll be OK. 

Monday was a pretty good day. The weather was fine. The two year old was being unbelievably two, but in all she is so cute you can overlook her acting like a woke liberal on occasion. I made some tuna casserole for lunch. Salad with grilled chicken for dinner. Other than that, pure boring everyday stuff of no interest to anyone, even me. 

There you have it, a post for today. I’m certain you are glad you clicked here. 

You will never get those 37 seconds back. 

Ramble on

 

Today is Flag Day, one of our lesser holidays. There will be mail. Government workers will show up. Some might even work. 

On June 14, 1777 the current basic design of the American flag, to whit, 13 stripes and a blue field with 13 stars,  was adopted by the Second Continental Congress. 

June 14 also marks the birthday of the US Army, adopted into form on June 14,1775. 

June 14 is a busy day.

I have the day off. Not because of the holiday. Nor to celebrate the Army’s birthday, but because the schedule made it so. I won’t get to coast though. I have a list of stuff to do as long as my arm. 

I don’t really have a physical list. I lied about that. Maybe stretched the truth. It wouldn’t be a couple of feet long if I did have such a list. OK, I don’t even know how long my arm is. Finger tip to finger tip should match your height. How long is one arm? Where do you start measuring - the breast bone, the shoulder? Why do you insist on complicating everything? Now I have more stuff to add to my imaginary arm length list; research arm length, measuring, and methods. 

I proudly hung my flag on the porch first thing this morning. I can cross that off my list of things to do. Despite your best efforts, the list did shrink by the size of my handwriting of the “put out the flag” notation on my imaginary list. I can say if I did actually write such a list I would certainly use a black Flair felt tip pen to write with. The list would be printed. Even I can’t read my cursive handwriting. 

This post is starting to ramble.

Speaking of which, one of my coworkers told one of the temp college kids he looked just like Robert Plant. He did too. The kid said who is that? She told him the singer from Led Zep. He allowed he might have heard of them. 

I went to the break room and cried. Figuratively.

Happy Flag day. Go forth and wave.

Outside, looking in

True confession, I chose The Moody Blues as this weeks artist solely so I could play this song:

I’ve posted it before. That’s because I like it, duh. What a fun musical tribute to psychedelia and LSD. 

Did I ever tell you the story of the one and only time I dropped acid? Note to the authorities, future employers, family members, and impressionable youth —  that story may or may not be true, it could all just be made up fiction like most stuff I post here. Anyway, if I did write the tale, maybe o not a true story, it is somewhere on the sixteen years (!) of archives. If I haven’t related the tale, I guess I have some future blog fodder. We all win.

This is a true story related to this song, though. Back in the early eighties The Moody Blues were scheduled to play over in Champaign, IL. My college roommate and I bought tickets. As was the way of things in those halcyon days, we started “prepping” early. Maybe even the night day before the concert. We certainly were cracking beers and smoking perfectly legal in every way substances by noon of the big day. Apparently, we prepared just a little too much. When it was time to leave, some concerned fraternity brothers took our keys. We missed the show. 

Ah youth. 

Enjoy the music and reflect upon the wages of misspent days. I will be a smiling helpful big box drone ready to enhance your shopping experience on this hot and sunny Sunday. 

Waddaya want to hear next week?

Dance, Clouds, Historical Jabs, Music

 

There, on the left, some weird and funky sunset clouds snapped from my phone as the wife drove us home. The view is to the northwest of the northeast suburbs. Embiggen if you do desire. Or not. It’s your choice. I run a free will blog.

The shot is ruined by the tension wires. And the need to click before the pickup in the right lane blocked the view. Too bad I didn’t have time to frame what I wanted to save better. So it goes. It is not like I have to pay for film or development or anything. Just truly point and shoot. It erases just as easily and will be sent to the electric landfill shortly, no doubt. 

I can do goofy stuff like take cellphone pictures from the passenger window since the wife has to drive me around. I might not have mentioned my broken hoof is the right one. The air cast makes it difficult impossible to drive unless I remove the boot, put on a shoe and replace the boot when I get where I’m going. 

The oldest granddaughter had a dance recital Thursday night. Of course she was beautiful and cute and perfect. It was the other six year-olds out of step! At times they all were. That’s what made it fun. The event brought back memories. My daughter danced for more than a decade; everything but ballet. I have been to more dance recitals than I care to remember. 

I saw a picture posted from the White House showing Edith Wilson Jill Biden claiming she was preparing for the coming G7 economic summit. I guess I missed the part where she was elected President. 

But you didn’t come here for the mundane scenery nor not-so-subtle digs at Sleepy Joe. You stopped by for the music.

Have a great Saturday.

Ha! You thought I would forget

 

Yup. Artist of the weekend.

Life lessons

The sun is obscured by clouds today. It was raining in the predawn hours. Not currently. Like the commercial says, no one cares if I got up early. I never, ever use a speaker phone while walking around a store though. If you do, stop. It is obnoxious. Not as annoying as bringing your dog into the store, especially if you put it in a shopping cart. Still...

Yes, that is tomatoes on the vine in my tiny garden. In a few weeks I will have luscious fruit/vegetables with dinner. Providing the varmits don’t take a bite from the hanging ‘maters first. I put spray on and around the garden to discourage the rabbits and chipmunks, but the daily rain washes it away.  The jalapeño is blooming so I’ll be using my own peppers in homemade salsa soon too. 

The forecasted rain is supposed to hold off until early afternoon. I may try to limp through a mowing if things can dry out a bit before the next cloudburst. Me and the Doughboy are making cinnamon rolls for the grandgirls first. 

There, you have another dose of the minutiae that is my life. A whole post of words sans meaningful content. 

Seriously, don’t use your phone on speaker in public. That is your public service message for today. It takes no more effort to hold it to your ear than it does to hold it near your mouth. Just stop it. We can all hear your conversation. 

We don’t want to. Trust me.