Not my fault, Jolly Roger.

“It’s a half-mast morning,” he said. He yawned…his eyelids sank.

Not my fault, I told myself. No need to say more. Let it go.
“I’d be late, anyway. First cruise is early.”

The sheet across his chest bobbed gently like a slow wake in the bay. The gulls we know arrived for breakfast for so I got out of bed. His foot twitched under the sheet, and I looked at him with tenderness that roped itself tight around my heart: This morning’s colors were fully-hoisted now and his bent smile puffed part of name I didn’t know.

I wondered who she was this time.
I wondered if gulls would breakfast on human flesh if invited.

But what I did was pour a pitcher of cold water on his Jolly Roger.
Not my fault.

Pandemic? Plague? How worried am I?

Are you worried about a swine flu pandemic?

I’m less worried about the global spread of the strain we’re currently seeing than about the one that could develop in the fall. Influenza viruses mutate. This isn’t “flu season.” Given a few months of human-host percolation, the wee nasty could become more deadly. Or not. Am I worrying to the point of losing sleep over it? Nope. Everybody dies. No point in actively worrying about that. What troubles me is how society deals with what happens. The first short story I ever read was The Masque of the Red Death, when I was around 8. I’ve casually studied “plagues” (bacterial and viral) ever since. Influenza’s nothing to screw around with. It’s not as colorful as Yersinia Pestis but it’s certainly got a kick to it.

Here’s an iris, not a virus:

I rock. Seriously. *takes a bow*

OK, I wasn’t going to post for a couple of days, because I’m behind in visiting, etc., but this is just TOO COOL to keep quiet about: my little brain is just the best ever. Don’t laugh! I wanted a quick way to return to the top of the page while working on the computer, and I know VERY few keyboard shortcuts. Went to one of those places where they give you MILLIONS of Mac keyboard shortcuts. I was in a hurry (as usual) and didn’t feel like screwing around reading page after page, so I looked at the keyboard itself and thought. THOUGHT! Used the little gray cells and logic, thusly: The Command key seems very powerful. The arrow keys provide direction. I wanted a POWERFUL up movement, right? Instead of the tiny normal up movement? So I hit the Command key and the up arrow and went to the top of the page. Lightning-fast! Ta-DAH!!!!!

Brilliant!

That’s why I rock.

It’s OK to laugh now.

*runs before someone tosses a rotten tomato*

Infinity as Sunshine: The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow!

On April 21, 1977 ANNIE opened on Broadway. As soon as I heard the words “endearing moppet” used to describe the title character I knew I didn’t want to see the show (and I never did), but some of the songs have become such a part of our musical life that it’s hard to resist them. That link will take you to more links, and here’s a video. Get that earworm remedy ready!!

The sun really WILL come out tomorrow, you know? Because tomorrow’s always a day away…a deep concept, something to ponder on especially rainy days.

If Texas Secedes, How Will They Brand It?

What’s up with TEXAS??? What will they call it, if it wanders away from the rest of the United States?
Texasistan? Texasopia? Texicle? Texaseria? Texasland? Texasorra? Texulencia? Texasuda? Texivia?

Texico?

Just wondering. Names are important; they can go very, very wrong. If the people who are contemplating secession are serious, they ought to have someone shopping around right now for a company that develops brand names and branding strategies. Texans should be familiar branding, right? Some of them, anyway?
OK, so here’s an online site for developing/selecting names. If you’re a Texan, you might want to start looking for a name now. Don’t wait until it’s too late and some knucklehead selects one that will make all the other nations giggle.

[Note: If you ARE from Texas, please don't be angry with me. I don't want you to leave!]

Why Don’t I Post Here?

Not a clue.

Oh, I just did.

LOL

Maybe I’ll stop back later. I love this site.

Ah, back again. For one night? Maybe more.

I’m hit-or-miss here, and that’s too bad. I’m hit-or-miss nearly everywhere. Mostly miss.

Last count I have 37 “blogs.” Hah!! The majority of them are just sign-ups and walk-aways: I tried to use the site but found it too this or too that or not enough of what I want, the usual. Some I did spend time on. One or two (like WordPress) I return to because I like it so much when I’m here, but I forget about it in the day to day drama of life.

Anyway, I’m currently on Redbubble now, and loving it. It’s ART, man. ART.

If I knew how to do a linkydink here, I’d do one. I’ll come back later and add one. Or maybe do another post.

To WordPress?

Just told a good friend about WordPress. Realized I miss posting here. No one comments, usually, but that’s OK. It’s the putting-something-out-there that counts, at first.

So maybe I’l be back?

“Leash me alone, you little moppets!”

OK, this is a very specific complaint. And I’m yelling it now, the way I yelled it (in my car) right after the whole thing happened.

If you’re going to bring eight children, who are all young enough to be under four feet tall, to a SMALL produce market, and let them run free to knock over plants and bite into apples, and shriek, and hit me in the back and hip (yes: HIT — not bump) as they run by, then be prepared to hear me yell. They scared me. They came up behind me and scared me. One of them smacked me in the back, and the other hit my hip. No, it didn’t hurt. They’re little enough to be fairly harmless, smacking-wise. But it scared me. They came up behind me. I HEARD them, but never thought they’d hit me!

And when I turned around, startled, and yelled, YOU, the parents/caregivers/whatevers, told me to go to hell.

Don’t do that.

I mean it. Your rugrats asked for it.

Your little anklebiters are lucky they hit me and not someone who hits back.

Next time, how about trying leashes?

Workplace No-No’s

Going to settle “the particulars” today, but as of now, things look like this: I’ll be working part-time, from tomorrow until the end of May.

I USED to work for a big company, in a pretty snazzy job (well, not when I started there, but later). I had my own suite of conference rooms and offices, etc. In my office, when the door was closed, I could do lots of things that aren’t socially acceptable behavior. You know? But when I walked out of my office or if the door was open, I had to behave myself, so I never quite relaxed my “standards.”  However, when I lost my job, I discovered the joys of “living free.”  And, over the course of eleven years, I’ve become accustomed to behaving that way.

Last night I realized that I need to stop doing a few things:

No more blowing my nose so hard that my teeth rattle.
No more joyfully burping and then giggling afterwards.
No more walking around in scuzzy, ripped clothing.
No more screaming at the TV news people.
No more ignoring the $&*#ing phone when it rings.
No more flinging great flying buttresses of colorful &#*@ing swear words and epithets into the air. And then congratulating myself on the originality they exhibit.
No more stopping whatever I’m doing, to hug my cat or to go outside and watch turkey buzzards wheel around the sky.
No more complaining to the Gods of Gas about the amount of time it takes to digest various kinds of fiber.
No more talking to my lunch.
No more talking to myself.

These losses will be balanced by good things, I know. But some of them are habits that will be hard to break. Don’t you feel sorry for the other people in that office? Yikes.

And a hearty lol. See you later!