Not Quite The Panic I Was Expecting…

By the time the guys got here, I had the kitchen and living room ready to go, but had barely begun on the disaster that is the office.

Not to worry, said the window guy. Just clear the stuff off the top of the desk; in fact, you can leave that giant shoe box-sized battery back-up unit right where it is, and we’ll throw a tarp over it.

So they got my three windows set, but not trimmed. That, they will do tomorrow. So there’s still cold air coming in around the edges–but it’s no worse than the old 50-year-old leaky windows. And once they put in the trim and caulk the inside, I’ll be snug as a bug in a rug. Or something.

Meanwhile, I had to set the computer back up so I could get some work done. Hopefully I won’t have to completely tear it apart again tomorrow….

Song Lyric Thing . . .

. . . this week’s edition submitted by faithful reader Bum.

1. Lord, I was stung Shoulda seen it come a long time ago
When I realized the reality gave me a roll
If things are the same then explain why your kiss is so cold
And that mist in your eyes feels like rain on the fire in my soul
This lying, and cryin’s upsettin’ and getting no where
It don’t stack up, so slack up and pack up, I just don’t care
Don’t let the screen door hit you, on your way out
Don’t you drown when your dream boat runs onto the ground

2. Slowly now we begin to move
Every breath I’m deeper into you
Soon we two are standing still in time
If you read my mind, you’ll see

3. And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessmen slowly get stoned
Yes, they’re sharing a drink they call loneliness
But its better than drinkin’ alone

4. My love is the evening breeze touching your skin
The gentle sweet singing of leaves in the wind
The whisper that calls, after you in the night
And kisses your ear in the early light
You don’t need to wonder, you’re doing fine
And my love, the pleasures mine

5. He kept dreamin’ that someday he’d be a star
But he sho’ found out the hard way that dreams don’t always come true
So he’s pawned all his hopes and he even sold his own car
Bought a one-way ticket back to the life he once knew

6. You’ve been thinking
And I’ve been drinking
We both know that its just not right
Now you’re pretending
That its not ending
You’ll say anything to avoid a fight
Girl don’t lie, and tell me that you need me
Girl don’t cry, and tell me nothings wrong
Ill be alright, one way or another
So let me go, or make we want to stay

7. Thinkin’ of you’s workin’ up my appetite
Looking forward to a little ( Song title here )
Rubbin’ sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite
And the thought of lovin’ you is getting so exciting

8. Don’t wish it away
Don’t look at it like it’s forever
Between you and me I could honestly say
That things can only get better
And while I’m away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won’t be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide

9. Did I hear you say that there must be a catch
Will you walk away from a fool and his money
If you want it, here it is . . .

10. When she confronted with the writing there,
simply pretended not to care.
I passed it off as just in keeping with
her total disconcerting air
and though she tried to hide
the love that she denied,
wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.

Thanks. Bum. Good choices. There are a couple in there that I would have had trouble with…. 🙂

When life gives you lemonade

I spied an actual bona fide lemonade stand along Pesante Road north of Salinas today. The classic deal, an overturned crate manned by a moptopped kid.

Seeing as how rare such sightings are these days and out of remorse for years of lemonade stands ignored in my callous past, I braked firmly but evenly to a complete stop and bought a cup.

It was good. I wonder what powder it was made from.

The kid was a lot smarter than I used to be. Mine was fresh squeezed from homegrown lemons for ten cents an eight-ounce cup. His was a bathroom-dispenser-size Dixie cupful for fifty cents. He was obviously not basing his profit on high volume.

His little stand looked rather forlorn on the way back. Certainly no one was stopped. He gazed hopefully from a long way off. I smiled goofily to indicate I had already bought some, but he seemed to chalk me up as just another stiff.

Requiescat in Pacem, Betty Ann

My sister-in-law, Betty Ann Munn, died softly last night with her sons beside her.

You will have never heard of Betty Ann. She was but one of those quiet women who serve with kindness and faithfulness their small sphere of family, friends, and church. She neither sought nor enjoyed the spotlight.

Yet when all is accounted for and souls measured in the balance and the first are last and the last, first, Betty will be revealed for who she is, and many a one will look on her and marvel.

Good morning, Merry Sunshine

I woke to the most vociferous crunching, as if a dog were really going at a flea. So I yelled at Sophie (the dog) to no effect.

After awhile I roused myself. My eyes focused on the cat, gnarring a dark, limp form with gusto.

I picked up the gopher (that’s what it was) with multiple layers of newspaper to pad the yuck factor and flung it in the backyard trash.

When I picked up the gopher, I saw a snout fall to the carpet, but when I came back, it had vanished.

I crawled back into bed to dream it off. The cat jumped on the bed purring and exhaled gopher essence in my face. Needless to say, he went flying.

And how did your weekend start?

Ladies, here’s scant consolation

According to an English study published in The Atlantic, a woman’s chances of getting married dropped 60% for every rise of 15 points in her IQ.

Back to playing dumb, girls.

“Men Must Endure Their Going Hence”

Alas, I had a call from my brother today–my sister-in-law has slipped into a coma, and against all our prayers will die of cancer in the next hours or days.

She leaves two teenaged boys and a loving husband.

How odd a thing life is. How precarious. We live on the thinnest crust over the abyss, and everything can give way in an instant. We think we’re kings of the world, but we own nothing, not our lives, not our selves. Terrifying, really. Hie thee to church, cause the bell’s about to toll for thee.

Nothing like death to clear the mind wonderfully on these points.

The quotation in the entry title, by the way, is from King Lear and is chiseled on CS Lewis’s grave. It was the quote-of-the-day on the calendar when his mother died in his boyhood.

Hey, Gang of 33

All right, you thirty-three readers, Cranky’s gone and I don’t even know how to link to the entry below wherein she claims to have thirty-three readers. Yes, that’s the kind of gormlessness you may be in for.

Let it be known I DO know Cranky’s real name, and it’s for sale. Or I may just hoard it for playing tricks with, like releasing a feature article on her Michael Moore-dreamboy posters-and-plush-toys collection, largest on the central coast. With matching bedspread and pillow shams (soggy with tears of longing).

Actually, cancel that.

Actually, she would kick my sorry be-hind with a royal foot if I did any such thing.

Gentle Reader, Cranky has muscle and connections. Never mess with Crankybeach, even as a corps of thirty-three.

Oh man, I’m starting to sweat. Cranky, tee-hee, just foolin’ around–banking on that patented quirky humor of yours!

Open letter from a Bush-voting Dem

Did y’all see this incredibly brilliant letter, linked from Instapundit?

The comments by clueless, condescending Dems perfectly illustrate her thesis.

I heard The Incredibles

…is fantastic. Anyone see it?