“Always lists to be made, as if writing items in neat vertical rows might stave off randomness and chaos.” ~ Dani Shapiro, from Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love

The News, Paterson, New Jersey, May 13, 1944

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

Friday afternoon, clouds and rains, 69 degrees.

A pretty good collection today. All sourced from tumblr. Enjoy.


Mind-reading duck? Really? Hmm . . .

Great Falls Tribune, Montana, December 12, 1916

Yep.

This was my favorite book to read Alexis when she was little:

This is so spot on. I never realized other people felt this way:

Well this might explain it:

I used to love the old “Tom and Jerry” cartoons . . .

Kind of like buying stock in Google or Amazon when they first started, neither of which I own:

Want one of these. They’re supposed to be good protection for other animals:

And finally, in honor of the D-Day 75th Anniversary:

British paratrooper veterans sitting across from their own younger selves in the same plane which dropped them over Normandy. 6 June 2018.
Advertisements

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

The San Francisco Examiner, California, February 25, 1935
“More and more, it feels like I’m doing a really bad impersonation of myself.” ~ Chuck Palahniuk, from Choke

Friday afternoon, partly cloudy, warmer, 73 degrees.

I thought that I’d add something a little different to today’s leftovers post. I was trying to fall asleep when I thought of this list of firsts:

First:

  • word that pops into your head: palimpsest
  • song that pops into your head: “House of the Rising Sun”
  • TV theme show you think of: “Gilligan’s Island”
  • smell that reaches your nose: freshly mown grass
  • sound you hear: a rooster crowing
  • name of first person you think of (not a relative): Sarah
  • name of first person you think of (relative): Alexis
  • artist you think of: Van Gogh
  • classical composer that comes to mind: Chopin
  • author you think of: Tolkien
  • poet you think of: Anne Sexton
  • kind of food that comes to mind: peanut butter cup
  • drink that pops into your head: chocolate milkshake
  • movie title you think of: Legends of the Fall
  • fictional character that comes to mind: Sherlock Holmes

Vintage newspaper articles:

The Herald-Press, Saint Joseph, Michigan, August 5, 1938

Anxiety problem:

From ultrafacts.tumblr.com:

Lone females retreated to isolated nesting boxes on penthouse levels. Other males, a group Calhoun termed “the beautiful ones,” never sought sex and never fought—they just ate, slept, and groomed, wrapped in narcissistic introspection. Elsewhere, cannibalism, and violence became endemic. Mouse society had collapsed.

Beneath the surface of Japan’s Tateyama Bay stands a shrine called a torii, sacred to the Shinto religion. But more than being a place of spiritual importance, the underwater site is host to something else that’s remarkable — a unique friendship between a man and a fish.

For more than two decades, a local diver named Hiroyuki Arakawa has been entrusted with overseeing the shrine and being a guide to others who wish to visit it. In that time, he’s become well-acquainted with the local marine animals who live in the area — including one friendly Asian sheepshead wrasse named Yoriko.

Over the course of 25 years, the pair have forged an incredible bond based on trust and respect.

Perhaps the sweetest testament to their friendship can be seen in Arakawa’s custom of greeting Yoriko with a kiss.

I used to have a beautiful Samoyed named Sasha. I’d love to have another one:

And finally:

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

Yes, I know. I scheduled the damn thing to publish a day early. Sheesh. What a week . . .


Friday afternoon. Cloudy, muggy, but cooler, 70 degrees.

So I was right about the one thing that I wish I had been wrong about. I am having one of those weak episodes, the kind where moving feels like swimming, lifting anything feels as if I’m trying to hoist 55 gallon drums filled with cement. In other words, blech.

Dreamed last night that my mother and I went to White Castle to get burgers. We found the last one left in the area (I think they’re all gone). She wanted her burger with rice and greens on top, and I just didn’t understand that combination. Years ago when I worked at the newspaper, there was a White Castle a few streets over and the woman on the grill had been there for years. She could cook a mean burger.

Oh well. Here, have some leftovers . . .

Are you a feminist

Caitlin Moran’s How to be a Woman

None of your kind wanted . . .

Photo: Well this is sure to get the goatee of some.

Look closely . . .

I’ve finally found my spirit animal . . .

Speaking of koalas . . . I don’t know if I’m more intrigued by the photos or the caption accompanying them:

A Koala reflecting on his sins, his triumphs, and the inevitability of death.

This is a thing:

 Moon rabbit, Taoyuan, Taiwan (2014) by Florentijn Hofman

Here, have a little happiness:

There aren’t enough palms to smack enough faces for this one:

Photo: Must not be a writing opportunity.

Say what?

Mutually Exclusive?

Come again?

That liberal lie: Climate Change

Wi-Fi Wars . . .

How cool are these?

Ghost-it notes for highlighting without defacing the book

This is important. Lava Mae is fundraising for their second bus. Go here for more information:

Friday leftovers for Friday the 13th . . .

of course I forgot to schedule this to post . . .

Finally, proof that I’ve been doing it right all along:

Best door sign ever.

Let’s all just take a moment to consider this . . . and what could possibly possess someone to invent this?

I don’t understand . . . do you eat your fingers?

Oh, that explains it:

Neil deGrasse Tyson corrects another late night host on space facts:

Um, one of each, please? (Side note: hussy was one of my mother’s favorite words; she applied it to women on television, as well as cats and dogs.)

Too stupid not to be true:

Literary insults:

terry pratchett
Small Gods by Terry Pratchett. Photograph: UK Celebrity/Alamy
coriolanus
Coriolanus by William Shakespeare. Photograph: Johan Persson
lucky jim
Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis. Photograph: AP

Oh, if only this could be a real thing:

So I sat there and did this in my head . . .