Saturday, December 29, 2018

Ah, the joys of aging

Today I received a "personalized" invitation from an audio/hearing concern, inviting me to a special three day "window" event  which included a free audio test, and a demonstration of a super new hearing aid thingy.  They suggested I bring a friend along, one I can hear, (which is also a way of saying, 'one who can interpret for you") as well. 

Oh what fun I could have.  I immediately found myself slipping into cranky old lady (a la Granny Weatherwax) mode who is just hard enough of hearing to be an annoyance to everyone in the room, outside of the room, and half way to town.  I learned to project, long ago.   heh heh heh

Speak  up, young man, this is a room full of deaf people and you stand there mumbling, for all I know you're praying over us and calling us names.  Who ARE you, anyway?

I do so hate to pass up the Omaha Steak bribe gift certificate, though...

Friday, December 21, 2018

And speaking of Solstices

we seem to be having one
and yep, the sun probably came up
a few seconds earlier this morning
and set a few seconds later tonight

yay us.

Happy Solstice

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Comfort Food

The winter solstice

The summer solstice

First fire in the stove in the fall (and a shed full of wood waiting)

Last fire in the stove in early summer

Walking into the kitchen from outside on a very cold day
to a very warm stove; it envelops you like a warm blanket

Geese migrating. No matter which way they go, they're going home.

Apple blossoms

Meeting an old friend for the first time

Fresh baked bread

Finding music on You Tube you never knew was there

Realizing that where you are is where you want to be

Terry Pratchett

White Cheddar popcorn  (and yes you can put melted butter on it)

Saturday, December 15, 2018


If humans were to disappear from the face of the earth,  the earth wouldn't notice.  It would go on growing trees and fields,  evolving from this state to that state,  poking it's little fingers up through the macadam and parking lots,  wearing down the buildings and machinery,  until it looked once again much the way the rain forests in South America look,  mysterious lumps overgrown with vegetation.

It wouldn't matter a  hoot nor a holler about where we went or why or how.  Or even that we were gone.  Snow would still fall, or not, rain, drought, aridity,   typhoons and monsoons, earthquakes and tidal waves, sweeping clean, shaking things up.    This is, geologically, still a relatively young planet.  It's still inventing itself, and we are part of the process--not the end result, just another bit of evolutionary history; always--like everything else out there--on the edge of obliteration.

Hard to fathom sometimes, we get so wrapped up in our seemingly ineluctable importance, but the planet wouldn't pay much attention.  I doubt if it would miss us very much, either. 

I find that strangely comforting.

Thursday, December 13, 2018

Bear with me T13

Foxed pages

Elephant in the parlor

Deer in the headlights

Dog Days

Wolf Whistle

Pigeon Toed

Stubborn as a mule


Hare brained

Kangaroo court


Frog march

Horse Feathers

Thursday 13

Monday, December 3, 2018

Had to share this