If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

forgot to hit publish . . .


Friday afternoon, stormy and muggy, 84 degrees.

Something that I did not know (or did not remember that I knew at one time) that I really should have known because it’s so blatantly obvious: The red markings on a metal measuring tape every 16 inches indicate the traditional placement of wall studs, so if you don’t have a stud finder, you’re still good to go . . .

I know. It’s the small things . . .


The Des Moines Register, Iowa, July 16, 1939

Intelligencer Journal, Lancaster, Pennsylvania, August 25, 1913

True story: When I first started working at Dillard’s a lifetime ago, I came off a double shift, and my feet were aching. The next day before work, I used some pain cream that my mom had given me, having no idea that it contained capsaicin. I was only at work about an hour before the pain in my feet became so extreme that I had to sit down in the floor. By the time that I made it home my feet were bright red and blistered.

Moral of the story: Never use anything containing capsaicin on your body unless you want more pain than the pain you’re trying to alleve.

Happy 4th of July America!


“Sometimes nations should pray for amnesia.” ~ Anna Kamieńska, from A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook

In honor of the country’s birthday . . . nope, sorry, in honor of 45’s belief that the world revolves around him, he held a ‘Merica celebration on the National Mall in which he praised our country’s history, especially the Revolutionary War in which the country gained its independence. All went well until it got to the airplaines . . .

“Our army manned the air, it rammed the ramparts, it took over airports, it did everything it had to do.”

Donald J. Trump, noted historian and purveyor of fine facts of the fake kind……

Argh…this was in my drafts folder………..

Update

I’ve been down for the count for the last two days; my fibromyalgia has hit hard. It started on Saturday, but not too bad. I thought that I was just tired. I was wrong. Then Corey and I spent about 11 hours doing a circuit from here to Galax to Ashville, NC, and back again. We were dropping off water tanks and picking up two more goats. I definitely think that the trip did not help my body at all. I’ve been in bed for two days, and I’m over it. I’m not sure how this manifests in other people who are unfortunate enough to be affected, but for me, it’s a pervasive weakness and a burning in my muscles. Just walking through the house is a major chore.

Enough already.


Music by Of Monsters and Men, “I of the Storm”

If it’s Friday it must mean leftovers . . .

The Brooklyn Citizen, New York, September 24, 1899

“as if reality had become naked and nothing remained except the silent
spinning of atoms and molecules
it was a flapping of wings over blue and white waves, a sparkle of
sun on the rocks” ~ Octavio Paz, from “Kostas Papaioannou”

Friday afternoon, sunny and hot, 87 degrees.

Not the best day. It’s stuffy in the house, and we still have no AC.

Corey has gone to a health fair offering free dental, vision, and medical care. His tooth problem has gotten really bad, and it needs to be pulled. He got up before 5 a.m. to be there at 6 for the tickets, only to be told that today’s slots were all filled. He was told to come back at 2 to get a slot for tomorrow when there will be more providers. It’s an hour each way. He said that there were tons of people there.

Tell again there’s nothing wrong with healthcare in this country . . .

Bailey and Tillie got in another fight as soon as Corey left the house . . .

There will be no funeral or service for Dallas, and the lawyer has advised us not to get involved in the whole situation involving his ashes because we had offered to take care of them. This whole situation really, really sucks . . .

Not much of a collection for today, but a good segment from Colbert. Just not into it, plus computer woes continue . . .


Needs no explanation:

Too true, that . . .

How is it that this kid has a better plan at her age than I’ve ever had at any age?

At last, scientific proof of the concept that has plagued me forever; the peer reviewer’s comments are pure gold:

My kind of grandma . . .

The Decatur Herald, Illinois, August 23, 1935

For those who didn’t watch the entire second night of the Democratic debates, here’s a good snapshot: