Treatments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



So Much for the Nick-of-Time...

 

 

 

Some people think they will be

hit by a bus when crossing the street one day.

 

Others simply hope they go peacefully

in their sleep.

 

Having more personal experience with

Murphy's Law than most,

I believe my time will run out

 mid-sente



The Garnish

 

 

Roses attend weddings

as they do funerals -

They are a celebration of beginnings

as well as endings -

appropriate with either champagne or embalming fluid

~ 

as if life itself requires a sprig of parsley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

zc

 



Incomplete

          I draw my conclusions from the vast expanse of darkness and stars.  I write them for others to see and comment upon.   Collectively our thoughts litter the universe; while I - in a shower of commas - continue on towards a finish line no one wishes to cross.

 

          Bogged down by a basic lack of knowing - resultant from an education of highlighted phrases, folded corners and scholastic missteps, I fall short of literary accomplishments and remain relegated to this blog.

 

           I have worked the iron pump handle but feel I have missed the experience of the rushing water.  This is why I scoff at the one who has written my destiny.  “It is you who have failed to complete your assignment.  You, in your haste to position the stars and arrange the molecules have left me here – incomplete”. 

 

          Though perhaps, in all of creation, unfinished is what I need to be.  Destined to strive towards completion.  Perhaps wired to mentally push myself to discovery.

 

Actual Post Starts Here:

 

          This week’s adventures found me squirming uneasily in the Dentists chair, peering up at a masked man who had his fingers in my wallet. 

 

 “This might sting a little.”

 

 

          Later adventures found me resting comfortably at my computer and enjoying a glass of fine Russian vodka with two olives peering back at me.  Life was good and it was great to be me.

 

          The following morning, in lieu of a hangover, I awoke to an attack of gout, perhaps an indication that I may be allergic to olives.  Life stinks.

         

          Prone to fits of sanity I’m not, but a recent encounter with our paperboy has caused me to take a long, hard look at crazy.  We called and reported that we did not get our newspaper on Saturday, and did not get our paper on Sunday. 

 

          In short order our paperboy, approximate age 50, delivered a Sunday paper to our front porch and apologized for the problem.  Then he got into his car and drove away.   I took the paper out of the protective plastic sleeve and quickly discovered that it was last weekend’s paper.

 

          Various thoughts…

 

A.  The paperboy keeps back issues just in case.

B.  He assumed we were requesting old news and expired coupons.

C.  There was something in the current paper he didn’t want us to see.

D. He is a laid-off executive working beyond his capacity. 

E.  You don’t have to leave the house to find crazy.

 

         

This was not multiple choice.  They all apply.

 

I have drawn these conclusions from the vast expanse of darkness and the stars.

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

         

 

 

Negative Ions

 

 



The Antique Shop

I hadn’t seen them at first; in fact I didn’t even see them until the boy’s foot swinging caught my attention and I saw that his tennis shoe said PF Flyer on the side.  They were all together, sitting there along the bottom row of shelves.  The small sign said, Sold as Family only. English speaking.

There were two Grandparents, a Father, a Mother and two children.  The tag on the Grandfather read Cobbler, (cane sold separately).  The Grandmother’s tag said she had once played in the All American Woman’s Baseball League.  The Father’s tag simply read, Downsized, and the two children had tags that said they were proficient in Pong and Packman.

The tag on the Mother read; Cooks with bacon grease and lard, has been trained on both wood-burning and Propane stoves, sews by hand only.

I was impressed with the display but what could I possibly use them for?

The up-side however – they had the ability to dust themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

  

Noggin-Knocker

 

Until the design change in 67

the original fountain

was referred to as the Noggin-Knocker.

 

Whenever two people tried to get a drink

at the same time...