5 March 2008 -- Random Thoughts
So what all happened today?
I walked outside about 9:30 am and it was snowing. Well, not really snowing, more like snaining. A few flakes with a few drops. Lasted about ten minutes or less. It was 42 on the thermometer, less 6 for the fudge factor. I have another thermometer on the porch that is regularly off by anywhere from eight to twenty degrees. Just depends on how it feels, I guess. When I first got it, I attached it to the old apple tree stump. A while later the sun came out. It was a hot day and one of the metals on the bimetal got exhausted. It was only about 85 according to the old thermometer but the new one pegged out at 120. Since then the reading is always off until it gets down to about 30 degrees, and then it matches the old one. Pay for what you get, I reckon. After it went so high a few days, I read the instructions. No, why would I need to read instructions for so basic a thing as a thermometer? Anyhoo, the instructions were very explicit--"Do not place in direct sunlight". Now how ignorant. What good does it do to put it under the house where the sun don't shine? Only cost me a dollar or so anyway. But I got on their website and told them to stick their thermometer where the sun don't shine. And I bet if they did it would read about 98.6.
For some reason I have been singing Hank Snow songs all day. Started off with "These Hands" this morning and has run the gamut from "Movin' On" to "Bluebird Island." I liked it best when I got to "Rhumba Boogie" and followed it up with "Golden Rocket" and then "Down the Trail of Aching Hearts." Ah, those are good songs, Hank.
Back in my formative years, about 19yeah until long after I was married, when I saw a car going really fast I was wont to opine, "It's going like double-geared lightning." For some reason, I stopped saying it about the time I began slowing down, which was a number of years ago. And you know the other ways of saying it, 'like a bat out of hell', 'going like 90,' and all the others. But today I stood at the door and a saw a pickup going north on the highway in front of the house. He was a real speedburner and I thought to myself, "Man, he's going like double-geared lightning." Where and why it popped up, I have no idea, but, methinks, maybe I'm regressing? I know I do a lot of digressing, and the democrats do a lot of recessing (oh, come on, you know what I'm saying, they talk recession until they get elected and then it is a hold or a hesitation or some such nonsense that the liberal mind [what, they really have one?] dreams up)-- to the point of obsessing, but me? Regress? Doubtful. I think it was the beans I had for supper last night.
I brought the Scruff in this morning. He walked over the entire house, came in a lay down beside my chair and nodded off. I got up to make myself a cup of joe and he struts in the kitchen and says, "How about something to eat, Pa?" I said, "How about that?" and went back to editing the genealogy. He puts his claws in my knees and lets me know in no uncertain terms he thinks it is time he gets his treats. Well, I tell you now, those claws go pretty deep, and I was not about to see how far. So I get his treats for him. And then he has the audacity to say, "Well, dammit all, open the stupid things, will ya?" I shrugged and handed him the scissors and said, "You're such a smart aleck, do it yourself." Mistake. After stitching my jeans leg back up, I opened them for him and went out to clean up his litter pan. Double pyou. After opening the door and puking on the porch, I got the job done. By this time he was back in his little house in the screened in section, so I quietly closed the bedroom door and left him out there to enjoy the aroma for a while.
I went back out a while later, dropped the deodorizer down and let him back in the house. A little quieter this time, I tell you. He came over about twenty minutes ago and wanted to back out, so I gave him a treat or two and sent on his way. He's the reason they made that movie, you know the one, "That Damned Cat." Sometimes he has another name too, I say Jesus H. Christ, Cat!
I've done a little more poetry, but nothing that is complete yet. I've been thinking of doing another book of it, but that is a time consuming job and I don't know whether the project will get off the ground or not.
And, finally, an old one (I am not the author) about a cat--
Once I had a Thomas cat
Who could warble like Caruso.
A neighbor swung a baseball bat--
And now he doesn't do so.
They laid him in the ground, boys,
Laid him in the ground.
One less here and one more there,
They laid him in the ground.
Peace. Or whatever passes for it these days.
I walked outside about 9:30 am and it was snowing. Well, not really snowing, more like snaining. A few flakes with a few drops. Lasted about ten minutes or less. It was 42 on the thermometer, less 6 for the fudge factor. I have another thermometer on the porch that is regularly off by anywhere from eight to twenty degrees. Just depends on how it feels, I guess. When I first got it, I attached it to the old apple tree stump. A while later the sun came out. It was a hot day and one of the metals on the bimetal got exhausted. It was only about 85 according to the old thermometer but the new one pegged out at 120. Since then the reading is always off until it gets down to about 30 degrees, and then it matches the old one. Pay for what you get, I reckon. After it went so high a few days, I read the instructions. No, why would I need to read instructions for so basic a thing as a thermometer? Anyhoo, the instructions were very explicit--"Do not place in direct sunlight". Now how ignorant. What good does it do to put it under the house where the sun don't shine? Only cost me a dollar or so anyway. But I got on their website and told them to stick their thermometer where the sun don't shine. And I bet if they did it would read about 98.6.
For some reason I have been singing Hank Snow songs all day. Started off with "These Hands" this morning and has run the gamut from "Movin' On" to "Bluebird Island." I liked it best when I got to "Rhumba Boogie" and followed it up with "Golden Rocket" and then "Down the Trail of Aching Hearts." Ah, those are good songs, Hank.
Back in my formative years, about 19yeah until long after I was married, when I saw a car going really fast I was wont to opine, "It's going like double-geared lightning." For some reason, I stopped saying it about the time I began slowing down, which was a number of years ago. And you know the other ways of saying it, 'like a bat out of hell', 'going like 90,' and all the others. But today I stood at the door and a saw a pickup going north on the highway in front of the house. He was a real speedburner and I thought to myself, "Man, he's going like double-geared lightning." Where and why it popped up, I have no idea, but, methinks, maybe I'm regressing? I know I do a lot of digressing, and the democrats do a lot of recessing (oh, come on, you know what I'm saying, they talk recession until they get elected and then it is a hold or a hesitation or some such nonsense that the liberal mind [what, they really have one?] dreams up)-- to the point of obsessing, but me? Regress? Doubtful. I think it was the beans I had for supper last night.
I brought the Scruff in this morning. He walked over the entire house, came in a lay down beside my chair and nodded off. I got up to make myself a cup of joe and he struts in the kitchen and says, "How about something to eat, Pa?" I said, "How about that?" and went back to editing the genealogy. He puts his claws in my knees and lets me know in no uncertain terms he thinks it is time he gets his treats. Well, I tell you now, those claws go pretty deep, and I was not about to see how far. So I get his treats for him. And then he has the audacity to say, "Well, dammit all, open the stupid things, will ya?" I shrugged and handed him the scissors and said, "You're such a smart aleck, do it yourself." Mistake. After stitching my jeans leg back up, I opened them for him and went out to clean up his litter pan. Double pyou. After opening the door and puking on the porch, I got the job done. By this time he was back in his little house in the screened in section, so I quietly closed the bedroom door and left him out there to enjoy the aroma for a while.
I went back out a while later, dropped the deodorizer down and let him back in the house. A little quieter this time, I tell you. He came over about twenty minutes ago and wanted to back out, so I gave him a treat or two and sent on his way. He's the reason they made that movie, you know the one, "That Damned Cat." Sometimes he has another name too, I say Jesus H. Christ, Cat!
I've done a little more poetry, but nothing that is complete yet. I've been thinking of doing another book of it, but that is a time consuming job and I don't know whether the project will get off the ground or not.
And, finally, an old one (I am not the author) about a cat--
Once I had a Thomas cat
Who could warble like Caruso.
A neighbor swung a baseball bat--
And now he doesn't do so.
They laid him in the ground, boys,
Laid him in the ground.
One less here and one more there,
They laid him in the ground.
Peace. Or whatever passes for it these days.
posted by tanstaafl | 4:21 PM
1 Comments:
Oh, I just had to laugh! There is a thermometer on our patio that my mother-in-law (who I loved dearly) put up herself when she used to sit out back and birdwatch. It always reads about 40 degrees low, and I just don't have the heart to take it down even now, 12 years after her passing. That silly thing. Eventually, I'll have to take it down...but I'll probably end up just moving it somewhere less conspicuous when that time comes. I cannot bring myself to throw it away.
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