If it rained cats and dogs, would they fight on the way down?
If it rained men, how long would the line-ups be in emergency waiting rooms for people needing casts?
Would we run out of plaster?
I’ve always loved the sound of rain (real rain, not living, breathing rain). I felt safe sleeping in my attic room until the winds started increasing and tornadoes became more frequent in my area. Now I have a huge tree that worries me. If it fell the wrong way … Let’s just say I’m considering asking the city to take it down. Even though its shade keeps my house cool in the summer, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.
But the gentle rain, when it hits the roof over my head is soothing. I can hear squirrels when they run across my roof–that’s how close it is.
Forgot to fix my alarm to include Monday after the holiday last week.
Because Alex is back home from the hospital (as of yesterday) and he went back to school today.
But the doctor told me it’s probably a good idea to feed him more slowly, because it’s possible the issue with his respiratory system could be bronchitis. And that could be due to coughing up little bits of formula when he’s sleeping through his morning tube feed.
So I have to get up early now. Five am instead of 5:30.
Finally! I need “Z” words for tomorrow’s illegal A-Z post. One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom.
Thank you to the three lovely ladies who gave me today’s words. You’ll find under the words “yikes,” “yee-haw,” and “yellow.”
(And a bit of learning thrown in for good measure.)
And so I lifted my beer glass from the kitchen counter
My beer, cold
The glass not yet forming condensation
And I got my glass about a foot off the counter and toward myself
Readying to carry it back to the living room
To my laptop
To write this post …
And the bottom dropped cleanly off the glass
Not a shard
Not a splinter to be found
A smooth cut straight off the bottom
As though it had been cut by a master craftsman
(One who obviously hates me)
And so not a drop
Was left in my glass
And now the dog is suffering with beer farts
(Or should I say I am suffering with the dog’s beer farts?)
And I am one glass
(and one beer)
Short of a six pack.
I suppose it could have been worse …
The glass could have lasted until it was hovering over my laptop …
I’ll need suggestions for “Y” words for Monday’s less-than-above-board A-Z post. One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom.
Ah, am I ever über–unkempt. (See the cool accent-y things I put in there? I’m fancy with my words at least.)
Having Alex home from school does that to me. He was extra-demanding today. This is what I get for having a weekend off, apparently.
Can’t decide if it’s a man-cold or if he actually needs the hospital.
I’ll keep an eye on him.
It’s all caused more of an upheaval in my schedule.
My amazing timetable in which I do all the things on time is now untimely.
Timeless.
Stricken.
It’s a stricken schedule.
Strike that.
It’s just mush. Yes, it’s a mushy puddle of timetable.
An icky itinerary.
A gooey guide to my bedraggled bookings.
It’s unkempt! That’s what it is!
Yeah, I’ll get caught up. Coz that’s what I do.
Thank you to the three lovely ladies who gave me today’s words. You can find out who they are by clicking the links under “über,” “unkempt,” and “upheaval.”
I’ll need suggestions for “V” words for tomorrow’s less-than-above-board A-Z post. One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom.
I’m totally twitchy today. Alex was home–he’s really sick. I hope it’s just a cold since he doesn’t have a fever, but he can’t stop coughing. He’s in bed trying to sleep now and he’s still at it. I won’t bother even trying to get him up to catch the school troika … I mean the school bus tomorrow.
So, why am I twitchy? There were SO many awesome things I was going to accomplish this week! I have a deal going on on Kobo … here’s a screen shot:
I was planning to advertise this every which way ’til Sunday. Literally–the deal’s on until Sunday. But I have Alex at home.
Oh, and that appointment I had to get my mother’s staples out of her head this morning? Dragged her all the way to the doctor’s office and found out the retirement home had taken them out a week ago. So we went there for nothing.
Why, oh why can’t anything go smoothly this year?
Because seriously, if they would, I’d stop complaining in your ears.
I also need suggestions for “U” words for tomorrow’s illegal A-Z post. One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom.
Thank you to today’s accomplices, whose links you’ll find under the words “twitchy,” “troika,” and “truffles.”
I’m writing this off the top of my head tonight because (surprise!) I’m once again very tired. I’ll call this Stream of Consciousness Smonday. Totally a word.
I’ve swept a couple of things under the rug in the past couple of days, one of which was my promise to ask for “S” words. Sorry about that. My intentions were good, but my body was weak. And still is.
The good news? I’m caught up with my work to where I hoped to be by this time today. The bad news? I think I might be coming down with a cold. Alex has one. I hope he’ll go to school tomorrow, but it’s not looking good. And I have to take my mother to an appointment in the morning to get the staples out of her head from where she fell two weeks ago and split it open.
So back to real life it is. No more sweeping stuff under the rug.
In real life, I don’t even have a rug, so there you go. 😛
I need suggestions for “T” words for tomorrow’s illegal A-Z post. There’s actually a method to my madness: if anyone asks, it’s you guys’ fault for encouraging me! HaHa! One word per person, please, and keep it clean. Note that the oldest comments are at the bottom. Thanks!
Eyes ribbed raw (typo intentional) by blinking eyes and sandpaper eyelids, I type this with my eyes closed tonight. Unable to look at the screen anymore.
Working too hard, I need a dig in the ribs to make me stop. To rest.
I forget what it’s like to take a day off. But I can’t. Not now. Maybe in a few weeks.
No link tonight. You know where to find the SoCS prompt.
First, thank you to Ritu for helping me find the title of this post. I don’t think I could have done it without you.
That said, what want to talk about has nothing to do with the title. Which is nothing new, so let’s carry on, shall we?
The day Notre Dame burned, Alex came home from school and asked me why I was sad. Having no way, with my limited vocabulary in sign language, to tell him what had happened, my first thought was of Disney’s “Hunchback of Notre Dame.” So I showed him a picture of the movie, and of Quasimodo at the top of the spire. When he saw it fall in the videos online, he understood.
I’ve been in so many grand cathedrals over the years–Canterbury, St. Pauls and Westminster Abbey in London, Notre Dame Basilica in Montreal, and yes, Notre Dame in Paris, among others–that it’s difficult to remember many specific details of any of them. But the sense of awe when stepping into such a church, of being surrounded by its history, leaves an indelible mark on the soul. When I saw Notre Dame burning, I went quickly from shock to denial and then to grief.
Notre Dame Basilica, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
When all is said and done, Notre Dame is an object. No lives were lost–not even the bees on the roof–which is a miracle all by itself. Still, one can’t help but think we’ve lost so much more than a material thing. Places like that are alive with the spirits of everyone who has walked through their doors.
On a lighter note …
My middle son, Christopher, who is autistic, didn’t start talking until he was four years old. In order to help him out, we bought him computer games to play. There was one, featuring Elmo, that had a mini-game in it to aid kids in learning the alphabet. And it worked! Chris began mimicking Elmo’s voice. For a long while he refused to put sentences together himself–everything he spoke was a line out of a game or a movie. But I distinctly remember one of the first questions he answered independently was, “What is the alphabet?”
Chris quickly answered, “Q W E R T Y U I O P A …” all the way to M. Because he learned the alphabet at the keyboard.
Fascinating how the autistic mind works.
Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “Q” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “Quasimodo,” “quick,” and “QWERTY.”
I don’t need any suggestions for “R” words for tomorrow’s post, because I’ll use SoCS to fulfill my non-duty of writing a non-A-Z post. Watch out for my request for “S” suggestions tomorrow!
It’s been a while since I’ve gone into armchair-psychiatry mode so how’s about a little sit down, eh? While we’re here, why don’t we talk about the theoretical link between the pandemic of depression and social media?
Is there even a link? Let’s imagine for a moment there is.
I don’t want to write an entire dissertation here–I lack both the time and the energy to do research, thus, the armchair. But just grazing on the surface, it’s easy (I think) to see a few different realities that exist in social media that could, quite easily be the cause of depression.
The first and most obvious is the common troll. There are no lengths to which many will not go to attain their goal of making their target miserable. To the point of depression? Perhaps.
Second, the “keeping-up-with-the-Joneses” factor. Being inundated by how good everyone else’s meals look/kids are thriving/vacations turn out/book sales are going (that last one might be personal) can be enough to point out how much yours is/are not. It’s like being a rock in the way of the tide–it’s gonna wear you down eventually. To the point of depression? Maybe.
Third, and possibly least likely–your name isn’t Paula. Because who doesn’t want a name like Paula? (Be nice, Paula is reading your comments.) Could not being called Paula cause depression? Well, you can always change your name, so probably not.
What do you think?
NOTE: I am, in no way trying to make light of the very serious disease that is depression. I’ve suffered it myself, and I understand the debilitating nature of it.
Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “P” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “psychiatry,” “pandemic,” and “Paula.”
I need suggestions for “Q” words for tomorrow’s not the A-Z Challenge post! I’ll take the first three. Note, the comments on my blog are newest on top. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.
Okay, so nobody wants to think about an octogenarian‘s oestrogen. But if I can make a title out of the three words I’m given for my absolutely-not-the-A-Z-Challenge post, it seems I’m compelled to do it. Oops!
Speaking of octogenarians, I didn’t talk to my mother on the phone yesterday, though she called at least 30 times. She has a flip-phone. It’s a new one–they’re manufactured for people like my mum who need something simple to use. Only it turns out, she still can’t figure it out sometimes.
You see, she can open the phone, she can find the numbers she has saved, and she can call. But the moment she hits the enter button to connect the call, an option pops up on the screen that says “Cancel.” For some reason, she cannot resist pushing it when she sees it. So my phone keeps ringing once and stopping, or if I’m really quick, I can pick it up and listen to her hang up on me.
Seriously, the next thing I know I’m going to start getting calls from her, asking if my fridge is running.
What can I say about oestrogen?
You like that spelling?
It’s British for estrogen, in case you hadn’t figured it out.
I like it. Every time I see it, I want to start singing it: “O-estrogen, o-estrogen …” to the tune of “Oh Christmas Tree.”
And now you’ll never hear that song quite the same again.
Oops!
Thanks to the three lovely ladies who gave me my three “O” words for today’s not-A-Z post. You’ll find their links under the words “octogenarian,” “oestrogen,” and “oops.”
Tomorrow’s “P” day! Any suggestions for “P” words for my not the A-Z Challenge post? I’ll take the first three. Note, the comments on my blog are newest on top. One word per person, and please keep ’em clean.
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