Currently Trending Aphorism

 "Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good."    Voltaire

And we all fall down...

I pulled the biggest piece out of the road; it is pretty heavy. Weeks ago, I called 3 places; Kayra's was to come the following Thursday---never heard from him. I left message at "Jeff's or some like name.No responsr. I called Abrortech--their mailbox was  full. I was worried the dead branch would fall in the road and cause an accident. @ years ago, I hired someone to remove the dead limbs, including the one shown. He told me it wasn't dead. I knew it was.

and the largest branch was out into the roadway this morning. I pulled it in a ways--it's quite heavy.

 

Day of the Dead

     "The world of dead exceeds the living."  

              The living assume to know about permanence, but only the dead can know what everlasting means. Our concept of eternity has one end rooted in life and the other end stretched out into the numbness of the unknown. The dead are already at that terminal which has no other end.

           Thus, perhaps, as in the lore of All Souls' Day, they return out of hope and passion for the life they remembered, to haunt, or at least occupy for a single day, the warmth of the living.

Graves grow cold in November.

Judgment Day

    Would you trust the decision of a mother to  bring all of her children to a superspreader event without regard to health recommendations of social distancing and mask-wearing.  God doesn't always protect true believers any more than the multitudes.

Finale: Squash #1

 Roasted Squash Cubes in Brown Sugar/ Lemon Sauce

I haven't cooked since last Thanksgiving, hope I have some energy left.

Road Markings to Suicide

  What a relief that most of the highway work of repaving, etc. is over for the season.  The road markings are freshly painted and clear. But I maintain, now as in the past, that if a driver is to obey the proscribed lane markings when wanting to make a left hand turn up State Street from Route 67, there will be trouble in store.  At best, the design of that so-called intersection is a nightmare. At worst, it's a perfect example of monstrously poor planning.

Drivers are expected to stay in their lane when approaching and intending to turn left on to State Street. The markings are now clearly defined. Stay right until you turn. That is a problem for drivers of sedans, who, if they stay in their designated lane, are NOT able to see what is approaching on the bridge. Not from your position in the designated lane. Trucks or SUV's may be able to see what's coming, but not passenger cars. Drivers of the latter need to drive to the left of the markings if they have any chance of seeing what vehicles are on the bridge Even then, if the oncoming vehicles are speeding, as many are wont to do, the unfortunate driver of the sedan whose only wish is to turn onto State Street can find themselves (I hate this word use) hung up in no man's land while the driver coming off the bridge expresses his displeasure.  That can be unpleasant, but it's better than being broadsided by a heretofore invisible vehicle.

A Knocking at the Door---7:00a.m.

   I'd heard the garbage truck come in the wee hours of this morning, but I was still in bed when I heard a knocking at the door. Well, no one ever visits anymore, especially at 7:a.m.  So I threw back the blinds and opened the door----to the Culligan  Man. He was there to deliver salt for the water softener. No, I said. I called and said we didn't need any this time; that was in response to their delivery confirmation call. Actually, I called last month with the same message plus I'd also emailed them to delay their delivery until further notice. Jeff said yes, he remembered delivering 2 bags last month and since there were already 2 unopened bags, he just left them there. He also said we were scheduled for 3-month intervals, but yes, he had been here last month. So I'm now hoarding waters softener materials. I hope, in light of the recent  spate of attempted larcenies, that we won't be targeted for our stash.

PART 11 Holes:Action taken

  It took 2 of these  pails of dirt to fill the bee-hole. It's a wonder my foot still isn't stuck there.

Holes

  I'll attribute it to rodents: mice, chipmunks, possum or skunk. 

      After what was most likely the last mowing of the season, I swept out the shed, remembering the mice were likely to resume their winter gnawing of the wires in the mower. I had not  much luck deterring them with a variety of measures, so decided to give the mothball routine one more try. After all, the previous mothballs were old, inherited, so I became a first-time buyer of fresh mothballs. They weren't easy to find either; who wears wool anymore. So I flung some around in the shed, and on my way back to the house threw a few under the ramp, also known as the home of the chipmunks.  And I noticed that I saw no chipmunks for a few days. Coincidence maybe, but could be they moved away.

    I had noticed  several holes newly dug in the ground outside the doorway to the basement. They could be the homes of snakes, chipmunks, bees--who knows. So, as the holes are directly beneath my kitchen window, and I still have a supply of mothballs, I opened the window and aimed some mothballs toward the holes. Close but no direct hits. OK, I'll go down later and shove the mothballs into the holes, three of them as I'd detected.

    Now let me tell you something about falling.  My younger self once ran out the front door, tripped on the step and flailed my way  in spasmodic gyrations  all the way across the lawn before regaining my balance at the mailbox, which had been my destination. But not this time:  when rounding the house to place some mothballs, I was walking and then I was sitting down with my foot stuck in a former bee-hole which had been excavated  by some predator or another. The marker was long gone, the hole covered by fallen leaves, in the style of a bear trap, and I was the victim. I heard nothing snap and felt no pain. I got up and pushed the mothballs into the holes. I am now going to get a pail and shovel and fill the hole.

"The Tell"

     The contractor arrived soon after I contacted him, almost a year ago now. He advertised as a Veterans' Lawn and Yard Service. He himself was a veteran and also offered veteran discounts. His site had several positive reviews and he presented as a serious and knowledgeable young man. He spoke in a calm serious voice and went into detail indicating what he and his crew would do: clearing the brush from the front fence and other areas, giving the lawn a last mowing and mulching, lopping off minor low hanging branches. We agreed on a price, rather steep I thought, but, hey, it was the last of the season and he promised the yard would look really good.

   That same day, I told M. of the arrangement, which was to occur the following day. I told her that D. was certainly presentable and seemed professional and decent. But I also told her that something seemed "off" about him and I couldn't  describe what it might be. He definitely had no trace of alcohol impairment, and no indication of being under the influence of drugs, of none that I'd ever observed anyway.  Yet----there was something. I didn't know what, but something didn't sit quite right.

   Now I realize what it was. He was lying, about almost all of what he was saying.

Squash dinner #2

 This time with pineapple and bacon bits. That's how I like my pizza.

Skipping the Thousands of Words

 

Eating Healthy

 Baked Butternut Squash with Homemade Applesauce topped with cinnamon, chopped walnuts and butter.

Melange

  The Idiomatic Medic and the Oxymoronic Ad were playing in the garden when-----never mind. I'm done here.

The Idiomatic Medic

    I'd noticed at a previous visit to this doctor that he, although young, had used several idiomatic references. On this visit, he said, "We don't want to let perfect be the enemy of good,"  and asked if I  agreed. Of course I did as no one has ever accused me of being a perfectionist, and I remarked that I had just heard this term being used several times the day before. He asked who had said it, and so began another conversation, or nearly so. 

Oxymoronic Ad, CVS

Sorry, CVS, but neither you nor anyone else can "start a new tradition."  The definition of the word tradition is:  "a long-established custom or belief passed from  one generation to another."  

    As much as the current desire is to dispense with the old and bring in the new, you can not do that with traditions.  At best, you could begin a practice that may eventually become a tradition. Conversely, bona fide traditions may die out, exist only in history.

    Family traditions have a place in history. I have witnessed such traditions which have been discontinued, such as trips to the apple orchard, Midnight Mass celebrations, and annual cemetery visits.  The only annual family tradition which remains alive, and which has extended over three generations is the cooking of the Thanksgiving Turkey. Ever since 1968, I have done so, and that's an awful lot of turkeys, roasted at my house, though the circumstances have changed. 

   Anyone contemplating setting the groundwork for a "tradition" should be prepared for a very long waiting period.

Come on in. Have some candy.

 

Really depressing Dream

    There were scores of us, forced by an oppressor to lie face down on the ground, in countless rows. I made the mistake of saying something to the person next to me, an attempt at humor, I guess. The remark was detected and we both were sentenced to death, a sentence to be carried out very soon. I felt guilty for involving the person next to me. There was a lot  of physical pain associated with the wait, along with the mental agony of not knowing the means. It was impending, but -------wait, there's a shred of hope somewhere in the distance............

Dog Whistle

    I was waiting for a chance to use this term. Today a doctor said he was not permitted to talk politics on the job, but he is hoping for a change in November. (And he brought the subject up, honest.

Is it Thursday yet?

 ...and Grassley is still rambling on...

Remembrance Retrieved August 2019

 

Into the Archives, Out of Catharsis (Not my dream)

    I was standing high on the balcony of a military base building.  It was a sunny day with high visibility. I was surrounded by some military intelligentsia who were explaining some new technology of pinpointing a very small target from an air strike.  Way off to the right, I saw a narrow flat bridge or pier extending into the water with some military vehicles on it and I saw a plane bomb it tight on the vehicle and blow it up.  They were pleased and pointed out to me how well it worked. 

   We went to the shore and were all gathered on a  front of the military base. I was getting more information from the military and a few of us (journalists?) were behind them. All of a sudden, I said, "Won't they be retaliating?"  And everyone agreed and loaded us on the back of their vehicles which had large, wide flatbeds. We took off and drove into a tunnel, which I wondered if it would be safe during a bombing, but apparently it had resisted previous bombings.  We then returned to the beach, and I asked are you absolutely sure they won't  be coming back. The officer said yes, but when I asked again, he looked into the sky and said we'd better get out of there.

   We ran for the vehicle again, but suddenly I was lying flat and couldn't get up. I struggled as hard as I could but could NOT get up. Suddenly my grandfather, an old, thin, white-haired man, appeared and said he would help me get up no matter what. He heaved and pulled and finally my legs came out of snow.He collapsed under me and died of a heart attack.I was able to slide onto the back of the vehicle and we pulled away, leaving my dead grandfather behind.  The driver went about 30 feet and crashed into a huge snow mound, got buried and couldn't get out.  I got off and started running. I ran and ran and came to this big old ramshackle building and ran inside. I only got inside and heard something falling through the roof. I heard a soldier say it could be a hostile. Instead it was some blond older woman who apparently lived in the area and went barreling by me.  I went a little further into the building and was standing near a doorway when I heard something else coming through the ceiling----I thought "Hostile" but it was 2 small cylindrical bombs. I made it out the door and had to decide which way to go.  To the right was about 4 feet deep manure that ran the length of the building.  I stepped one foot into it and realized that would not be a good way to go----footprints and very slow going.  I went to the left and when I got to the corner of the building I stopped and looked around.  I saw some hostiles in the distance and so I went into another side door.  I thought they had seen me so I hurried through the basement looking for a place to hide.  It was a big sprawling basement . As I passed through, I saw several possible hiding places---a large box, a large multi-colored chest---but I discarded them as too obvious---so I had to keep going all the way to the end where the furnace and all the big pipes were. I decided I had to hide there. Then I woke up.

Coneis20 Superspreader

    We don't have a pine tree on our property anymore, but the storm brought pinecones, hundreds I would say. They were deposited in the driveway, on the deck, and on the lawns on all 4 sides of the house. 

     The pine tar or whatever is extremely sticky. I picked some up and when I tried to remove the sticky residue from my hands, soap and water would not do it. Hand lotion worked somewhat better, but I had to resort to butter to finally free my fingers. There is a tall pine tree out in the back hinterlands, but it has previously kept its cones to itself. Those in piles are  only a small fraction of what remains.

Sound of Somnolence

    .....drone on:    .."the Amurican people"..."this president"....Drowsiness sets in when he speaks...

Afterward:   can't say no flies on him.

Half-vast Monday Errand Run

    I drove to Walgreen's to pick up a prescription and get a flu shot. Got the prescription, but they were out of flu vaccine, and didn't know when they would get a new supply, maybe next week. 

    I walked on over to the Bottle Return at SNS, but only the plastic return was operating. Cans and glass returns were out of order.

   The Low Tire Pressure symbol on the dash was lit up. I pulled into Stewart's and refilled the tires on the passenger side. They seemed lower and that's the direction I pulled into. When I got home, the tire pressure gauge was still lighted.

  Oh, well, I'll try again tomorrow.

Halloween Sightings

Break out the punkins.

Signs of the Time

 

A Cautionary Tale

 They better stash Nancy Pelosi in a sterile environment. Those in denial are on the loose.

Theater of the Absurd

  Explaining why he engaged in high-risk activity:   "I had to confront (Covid) so the American people stopped being afraid of it so we could deal with it responsibly."   Well, those who died of it since February when he knew the risk are no longer afraid of it or of  anything else.  And how did your attempt at logic work out for the rest of the country. Did you think the virus was afraid to confront you.