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


“For we all of us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act fatally on the strength of them.” ~ George Eliot, from Middlemarch

Friday afternoon, drizzle, 48 degrees.

Another week without much production on my part. I’ve spent over a week trying to coordinate the delivery of my next Aimovig shot, and the entire process has been unnecessarily tedious and difficult, talking with different reps each day, being told different things each day, being told delivery was scheduled only to find that it has not been scheduled.

As I’m getting this medication free, I probably should not complain, but what bothers me the most is that I have been unable to introduce this medicine into my system uninterrupted; it’s one of those things that needs consistency to work best, so because of the hiccup in delivery, I’m starting over.

Things like this tend to consume my attention, which means that everything else falls by the wayside, which, most especially, means posting (or not posting, as it were) with any regularity. Add to this the stress resulting from the omnipresent impeachment hearings, and my daily allotment of brain cells burns up far too quickly.

I know. I could not pay attention to the politics, and I could ignore the incompetence of the people giving me incorrect information, but you and I both know that I won’t.

Oh well . . . . . . Have some leftovers . . . . . . . . .

Today is the birthday of British writer George Eliot, pen name for Mary Ann Evans (November 22, 1819–December 22, 1880). You can read about her here.


Need this:

Yep.

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This explains Japan’s love affair with all things Kit Kat related:

It never fails to happen . . .

image

Too true, that . . .

Took me a second . . .

Do I detect a bit of sarcasm?

The memes are vicious today:

And finally:

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

Geez, people. It’s her money……….

Friday afternoon, sunny, 53 degrees.

A motley collection today . . .


Comment not necessary:

Um, crystal clear, yeh?

The more you know . . .

imageimageimageimageimageimageimageimage

I threw up in my mouth a little when I saw the clip showing Trump doing this:

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

The Atchison Daily Globe, Kansas, May 12, 1904 (From yesterdaysprint.tumblr)

Friday afternoon, partly cloudy and beautiful, 84 degrees.

I’m having problems getting to sleep again; I’m really hoping that this doesn’t turn into another full-blown episode of insomnia. Last night I dreamed I was having a good conversation with Brett’s partner, Dom. I was telling her how much I missed speaking with Brett. She said that she would tell him . . .

I’m hoping that Corey will spray the bugs around the house soon, so that I can venture outside without adding to my huge collection of bites. Oh well.

Hope you like today’s collection. Enjoy.


My nights lately:

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In praise of words:

La Grande Observer, Oregon, April 25, 1930

When you realize . . .

I love this picture. One of my earliest memories of is of my father working on a green car while we were living in Navy housing before going to England.

Love this sign:

To the billionaire owner of SoulCycle, Stephen Ross:


And this one, too:

Another one from isn’t:

Great bumper sticker:

Grooming a steer:

And finally, I love this. I wish that I knew where my old I Read Banned Books button was:


Music by Buffalo Springfield, “For What It’s Worth” (just as relevant today)

“I swing on a continuum between ridiculous and sublime.” ~ Amit K. Ghosh

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

Friday afternoon, more rain, 47 degrees.

I really think that it doesn’t rain nearly enough around here . . . not. The only good thing about all of the rain here is listening to it at night as it falls on the tin roof.

Anyway, sorry no post yesterday. I could think of nothing to say. Corey spent the day in bed as it’s his turn to be sick. Honestly, I wonder how long we’ll swap this bug, whatever it is. He’s better today, but he was also better earlier in the week, so who knows . . .

I’m fairly certain that the header quote is a take on Marshall McLuhan’s quote, “All through his life, he swung between the ridiculous and the sublime,” which comes from his famous 1964 book, The Medium is the Message.

(Just an aside here: I cannot believe how many people online think that the word is massage, not message . . . We really need to go back to spelling tests in grade school.)

Pretty good collection today, so enjoy.

More later. Peace.


Michigan ghost apples caused by extremely cold temperatures (found here):

Yep.

Also yep:

The Baltimore Sun, Maryland, February 8, 1932

This reminded me of how my old dogs used to try to get on the hammock with me . . .

Completely logical:

From This Isn’t Happiness:

I used to love this show:

And finally:

“It is complete balderdash. It is an inverted pyramid of piffle. It is all completely untrue and ludicrous conjecture. I am amazed people can write this drivel.” ~ Boris Johnson, British politician and journalist

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

I thought that I had scheduled this, but . . . apparently not . . .


Sometimes, I really miss the Simpsons (I know that they’re still on. I just stopped watching years ago):

Myrmecomorphy:

I can relate:

This fact is actually quite sad:

Wow. Deep philosophy for a newspaper:

The Windsor Star, Ontario, June 7, 1929

But look at Jeremy Irons’s arms . . .

Data was always my favorite:

“I chose cultural anthropology, since it offered the greatest opportunity to write high-minded balderdash.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut, from Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage

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

Friday evening, slightly warmer temperatures, 36 degrees.

A little late in getting this post up. Corey has so generously shared his cold with me. He’s getting better, and I, if things go true to form, seem to be on my way to bronchitis. The only good thing is that I actually have a doctor’s appointment next week, just for a check-in, but if my chest goes the way it tends to go, I should be good and wheezy by the time I get to my appointment.

No. I’m not willing it into existence, but seriously . . . I know my body’s response by now. As I sit here in my pajamas trying to will enough energy to bathe, sweat is running down my brow, and it’s not because it’s hot in here.

Just a few minutes ago, I poured my ginger tea into my soda water glass instead of the tea cup, and it took me a minute to realize what was wrong. It’s pathetic, actually. Thank god I don’t need to interact with real people.

I mean really . . . it would just be embarrassing. Anyway, I like my collection for today. I hope you enjoy.

More later. Peace.


I love this. I wonder if Corey would notice if I started flapping a handkerchief at him:

The Mystery of Love, Courtship and Marriage Explained, Henry J. Wehman, 1890

But I love this more:

The Highland Weekly News, Hillsboro, Ohio, March 4, 1875

I never did solve mine:

This is kind of like the guy who invented soft serve ice cream by mistake when the ice cream in his truck began to melt:

And then there’s this accident:

I have a real abhorrence of canned vegetables, except for corn. Weird, huh?

This is too true:

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry:

I told you dogs were better than people:

This is too cool:

“Your reality, sir, is lies and balderdash and I’m delighted to say that I have no grasp of it whatsoever” ~ Terry Gilliam, from The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (movie)

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

Friday afternoon, brilliantly sunny and cold, 33 degrees.

I actually feel like writing today, so I’ll work on tomorrow’s post since I already had today’s post ready to go. Quite an assorted collection.

Enjoy.


From funnymemes:

From memescomedy:

Hilarious:

From anxietyproblem:

Tillie used to do this with dog cookie boxes:

Love this from John Atkinson:

From ultrafacts:

Sooo tempting: