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

The Dadeville Record, Alabama, July 13, 1939
“The air—moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh—felt as if it were being exhaled into one’s face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing.” ~ Tom Robbins, from  Jitterbug Perfume

Friday afternoon, partly sunny, expected thunderstorms, 82 degrees.

Apologies in advance to those who are about to be embroiled in a major heat wave. I feel for you. I really do.

I woke up very early scratching bites on my arms and legs. It’s too bad there’s no spot treatment for humans that lasts for 30 days like the ones we use on the dogs. So I took a Benadryl, rubbed some tea tree lotion on my limbs, and tried to go back to sleep, but the dogs woke up rambunctious, which meant fitful sleep with weird dreams.

In the one I had just before I got out of bed, Alexis had gotten in trouble on the bus, and a teacher wrote a four-page report on the event. The only problem was that the writing was so bad that it made no sense. I was appalled, especially because this teacher was so proud of it. I know. I’m critical even in my dreams. By the way, did you know that Filipinos believe that if you dream about poop, (which I did), it means that you’re going to get money? Oh, if only . . .

Enjoy today’s collection. More later. Peace.


Bittersweet . . .

This made me laugh way too much:

The fluffy comedian:

Never thought of this:

I’m in that kind of mood today:

But no one asked me if I wanted the new version . . .


Ivy Levan, “Hot Damn”

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.

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:

“Miraculously God has already done it. Don’t tell them She put it on Amazon instead.” ~ Cheryl Morgan*

El Paso Times, Texas, January 15, 1938

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

Friday afternoon, sunny (finally) and cooler, 69 degrees.

We’re trying to wean Roland from the bottle as he’ll be two months old tomorrow, but it’s hard as anytime he sees Zeke getting a bottle, he wants one. I just called Roland to try to get him away from Corey, who was feeding Zeke (a lot of names here, huh?), and Roland actually slid across the coffee table to get to me. I think that one of these goats is getting too big for the house . . .

Today’s collection is brought to you by Benadryl, what I’ve been slathering on my body for weeks now to try to calm the itch. Benadryl. It’s good for what ails you.

Seriously though, I may never venture outside again. Anyway, enjoy.


File under: Amazing but True—People have always been this way . . .

Pittsburgh Daily Post, Pennsylvania, April 5, 1850

I like to think that this was written just for me:

Celebrating the summer solstice:

I never knew this:

Didn’t know this either:

Cant tell if I’m more bothered by the pigeons or more in tune with the captions:

We take the freshness of our biscuits very seriously, indeed:

The Victoria Daily Times, British Columbia, February 21, 1931

My immediate first thought was how can he possibly afford this:

This is kind of arrogant. I mean, what if Mars already has a calendar system?

And finally . . . I shouldn’t be surprised by anything, any more:

The Miami News, Florida, March 8, 1938

*From an article in the Guardian about a Christian group petitioning the wrong company to cancel Good Omens . . .

“To begin with, take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose” ~ Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass: XLV

Bee Hives in a Field of Canola, Oregon, US by Ian Sane (FCC)

“Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul. ~ Charles Bukowski

Thursday afternoon, rainy and cooler, 74 degrees.

Bad day. I’m mulling over a decision that has to be made, and I just cannot see a solution in which anyone can be happy with the outcome, least of all me. To distract myself, I thought I’d just do kind of a random post . . .

Thursday thoughts:

  • Why on earth would Corey’s recipe for beef and noodles also include mashed potatoes? Not enough calories in the noodles?
  • When will Roland realize that Bailey is a dog and that he cannot have sex with her?
  • I wish that Dallas could have a life-altering epiphany, but I just don’t see that happening. He’ll never change, and he’ll probably live to be 110.
  • Can we ever take the time to paint this stupid house? I hate living like this.
  • Why did Danny Burke leave Most Amazing Top 10? I know that this is probably only something that I wonder, well, me and the other 5 million subscribers.
  • Why on earth would anyone trust a Facebook cyber bank? Talk about taking unnecessary chances . . .
  • Can we just get an even 30 Democratic candidates for president? I mean, 24 isn’t nearly enough. Is it?
  • Will I ever be old enough not to have breakouts? Once upon a time, I assumed that such things ended once you left your teens. Ha.
  • I miss my books.
  • I dreamed last night that I pushed on my stomach and a ball the size of a handball popped out. I pressed on my belly again, and another one popped out, and then a third. But no holes, just stretched skin. Weird, huh?
  • What is the goats’ obsession with my Bentwood rocker? I’ve had this thing longer than my kids, and I really would prefer that it not be destroyed by goat hooves.
  • Did you know that a kid swallowed a live fish, and then the fish ended up living in his lung? Also weird.
  • There are no movie theaters within a half an hour of here.
  • There is nothing within half an hour of here.
  • My daughter wonders if I’m going crazy from the isolation yet.
  • Hmm . . .
  • I have so many insect bites on my limbs that it actually looks like I have small hives.
  • Obviously, I’m competing with the bug zapper for number of captures.
  • One of the goat girls has figured out how to make knocking sounds on the front door. I kid you not.
  • Dogs like to eat goat poop. Yep. Just as disgusting as you might imagine.
  • I really want to have bee hives. We have plenty of room for them. Yet another thing to go on the list.
  • Did you know that bees are so essential to our lives that they even affect the production of coffee? Like coffee? Save the bees.
  • Should I try to go back to work full time? The question that continues to plague me.
  • The White House sent out an official letter in which the word occurring was misspelled. Not surprised.
  • I really, really want to try a pint of Magnum sea salt caramel ice cream with a chocolate shell. Every time I see the commercial, I begin to salivate.
  • I’m still having the script problem, particularly on WordPress and YouTube. Anyone else using Firefox experiencing the same issues? It’s making me kind of crazy. More than usual. Meh.

Well, I think that’s about all. Concentrating on thoughts is just too hard, and that’s just sad. Chocolate would definitely make me feel better.

More later. Peace.


Music by Ray LaMontagne, “Such a Simple Thing”

 

“We are the words; we are the music; we are the thing itself.” ~ Virginia Woolf, from A Sketch Of The Past

Irish Roadside Panorama by Hauke Musicaloris (FCC)*

“More and more I have the sense of being present at a point of absence where crossing centuries may prove to be like crossing languages. Soundwaves. It’s the difference between one stillness and another stillness.” ~ Susan Howe, from “The Disappearance Approach”

Thursday afternoon, rainy, dropping temperatures, 75 degrees.

Thursday thoughts . . .

Not really sure that I have a lot to say today. I sit and stare at the quotes I have gathered for today’s post, hoping that some word or phrase will inspire me, but nothing happens. It’s as if words themselves have decided to take a hiatus in my brain; they do not wish to appear in cogent ways for me.

Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh, Scotland by City.and.color (FCC)

I had another’s doctor’s appointment yesterday, for my annual female exam, and I actually managed to get there on time. I asked the doctor doing the exam if she could take a look at my hand, which I injured the other day while trying to shoot a gun. Her response was actually quite witty: “Well, that’s not your vagina, and I’m here to look at your vagina.”

The office that I was in is set up with residents and two attending physicians, so I suppose as this particular resident was on vagina duty, she couldn’t really help with the big oozing gash on my hand unless the attending physician agreed. Ultimately, though, she looked at it as did the attending. As I had suspected, I should have gotten stitches when it happened, but it was the day after Max’s death, and I was in no shape to go anywhere or talk to anyone, so I didn’t go. As a result, the gash, which is about an inch long, isn’t really healing well. Yesterday I couldn’t touch my little finger to my thumb because of the swelling.

I was prescribed some doxycycline, but as we are more than flat broke, I cannot pick it up. Yet another case of being too poor to be healthy.

“Alone with wind. I came here
to tell you I have loved everything once.” ~ Gregory Sherl, from “How to Brave Night”

Anyway, today the wound looks better, or at least I’m telling myself that. It isn’t too uncomfortable to type, so at least there’s that.

Corey is working on a structure for the goats. Bobby looks like she’s going to give birth soon, and we are fairly certain that Ruby is pregnant as well. I really hope that she is so that we can have at least a piece of Max to hold onto.

The Church of St. Chad, Pattingham, Staffordshire, UK by Richard West (FCC)

The two female goats that we bought in Roanoke are quite a pair, mother and daughter. If they become separated by more than a few feet, the daughter, Bobby, begins to bray loudly. It’s sweet, but it also functions as an alarm. If I hear Bobby making noise, it usually means that Sylvia has come inside the kitchen door. I don’t know what it is about these goats that makes them think that they should live in the house, unless it’s that Roland is still inside with us; he is quite spoiled and has his own alarm system: if Corey leaves the room in which Roland happens to still be situated, Roland begins to bleat very loudly and then runs through the house looking for him. I’m not the only one who spoils animals . . .

The dogs have been quite good in the last few days, and I’m hoping that I’ve broken them of chasing the goats. We’re both keeping a keen eye on them while everyone is outside, and if I yell out the door at them, they all immediately stop what they’re doing. Nevertheless, we must be ever vigilant. I really cannot handle a repeat of what happened to Max, and neither can Corey.

“I find I get more and more disagreeably solitary; In fact I foresee the day when I shall have gone too far into myself that there will no longer be anything to be seen of me at all.” ~ Vita Sackville-West, from letter to Virginia Woolf

It’s supposed to rain here for the next four days, and I’m trying to talk Corey into doing some painting inside. It’s at times like these that I really wish that his brothers were closer so that they could help him with some of what needs to be done. The reality is that I could probably paint a bit, but it’s more than that: we need to move furniture and other stuff, lifting that I simply cannot do. I feel so useless.

Hadrian’s Wall, running up to the back side of Housesteads Fort, Northumberland, UK, by savagecats (FCC)

Lately I’ve been experiencing spasms in my lower back once again. I told Corey that even if my back gets bad again that there’s no way that I will ever have another back operation, not unless it’s the kind that can be done with a small incision and no long hospital stay.

Speaking of backs and mobility and such, I’ve been pondering yet again whether or not I should try to go back to work. I miss working, but more, I miss the income. However, if I did try to go back to work, my disability would cease, and then if something happened again, I would have to start the whole process once more, and it took so long with social security in the first place—two hearings, a stupid judge, two appeals, years of waiting. Honestly, I don’t know what to do.

I think of Eliot’s “Prufrock” poem: “Do I dare? Do I dare?” I really loved that poem so much, one of my all-time favorites.

“One can sometimes
touch, in the distance between two people,
a moment of another person’s endless dream.” ~ Yves Bonnefoy, from “Les Arbres” (The Trees), trans. John Naughton

And speaking of dogs and goats, Roland and Bailey continue their friendship. Roland has taken to butting Bailey’s head gently as she lays sleeping, and oddly enough, Bailey does nothing. She allows him to do whatever he wants to her, and I am quite amazed. He also licks her ears. I swear that this goat thinks that he’s a dog, and I’m uncertain as to how he’ll adjust to living outside once he’s weaned, which will be soon.

Vindolanda Hadrian’s Wall, Northumberland, UK by Rincewind42 (FCC)

The other day Corey and I went over to Dallas’s house to look at the horses. Dallas says that he’s going to let me pick out some horses to have over here, but he’s still claiming that Napoleon cannot come yet. I want Napoleon and Petra to be returned, but I’m trying not to pin my hopes on anything that Dallas says as we all know that what he says should be taken with a very small grain of salt.

A while back (cannot remember if I mentioned this), one of Dallas’s RVs and part of his storage burned down. He claims that someone did it during the night, which is definitely possible as his feud with his nephew continues, but there is also the possibility that Dallas was so drunk that he started  the first himself accidentally, or maybe even on purpose; however, he has no insurance, so I cannot think why he’d deliberately commit arson.

I hate that I even think these things of him.

While we were there, though, we picked a bunch of cherries from his cherry tree in the front yard. I’ve never seen such a big cherry tree. He says that he planted it when he first moved onto the property, which means that it is several decades old. I had no idea that fruit trees could survive for so long. The cherries are quite small, but tasty, and apparently, his dogs like to eat them, which is good as they all continue to look very malnourished.

“But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.” ~ Haruki Murakami, from The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

I suppose I did have a few things to say, surprisingly enough, although I’m not sure how much more I have in me.

Yorkshire Dales, UK by Robert Heath (FCC)

Look. The dry spell continues. My ability to string together words creatively continues to elude me. The joy that I normally find in writing these posts simply isn’t there, and I cannot seem to find that wellspring that houses my spark or my muse or whatever it is that is missing.

I would dearly love to know how to overcome this block so that once again this blog provides me with a sense of accomplishment as opposed to feeling that it is a burden that I approach reluctantly each time I try to compose. This blog has served me well for many years. I began it as an experiment, and it morphed into a way of life for me. I have very fond memories of sitting at my desk on Benjamin and rapidly writing 1,000 words without a second’s hesitation. I want that again. I need that again. And I think that I deserve to have that again in my life again.

Am I kidding myself? I truly do not know.

More later, I hope. Peace.

Feeling nostalgic for the British countryside today.*


Music by Winona Oak, “Don’t Save Me”


You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior

it was all roadside flowers & grasses
growing over the cities

was made of wilderness & sky
with God washed out of it

was the foreign prayer-word
it was a list of missing persons

was the solid bronze charging
bull on the famous street

was like the Roman method for making bees

was its taken-down carcass
& its bed of apple branches & thyme

was a new anatomy, a beaten hide,
a skeleton sweetening to glowing fluids,

& the bee born out, & the grist of them born
glistening as coins

it was anthem
was the listening,

the way a searchlight listens over a lake
it was the prayer-word out of your mouth
your thousand-noun request
it goes up up to the florescent weather

was an ivory box,

was hurdle & burn, burning through
the infinite, your overbright comet

was made of stones, made of berries & box tops & eggshells
it was like the word having reached the ear

& the words pollinated the dark, there was darkness there,
like the after-hours inside a library

~ Carolina Ebeid

 

“Resolution #4: I must encourage greedy people to use the term, ‘Low-hanging fruit,’ because that’s just like old times.” (Crowley) ~ Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Crowley & Aziraphale’s New Year’s Wishes


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

Friday afternoon, mostly sunny and lovely, 76 degrees.

Cannot wait to watch the  Good Omens adaptation with David Tennant and Michael Sheen, except that means we need to hook up the Blu-Ray to get access to Amazon Prime, which means . . . probably not going to watch it anytime soon . . .

A bit of a hodgepodge collection. Enjoy.


The miracle of tea:

Rules to live by:

Totally relatable:

Goats? Yep.

St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Missouri, July 21, 1908

Hmm . . .

Not I can’t stop thinking about a spider wearing flip flops. . .

Good for him:

Good boy:

And finally, coffee. Yes.:

The Topeka Daily Capital, Kansas, January 14, 1904