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Mid-Week Mood

It’s the type-it-in-backspace-it-out disease.  I grit my teeth (metaphorically speaking; I live in danger of cracked teeth on account of my unfortunate dental grinding at night) and try to keep typing.  Welcome to another Wuss-out Wednesday post.

What I kept backspacing out was any mention of the down mood that has been plaguing me.  I hate to mention it, because what the blankety-blank do I have to complain about?  The stern voice inside me says, “Just quit whining and get on with things.” Alas, I do not respond well to such bracing treatment.

On the other hand, perhaps some of my readers have down moods and might like to feel that they are not alone.  When somebody tells me they are in a down mood, I usually respond with sympathy.  Why do I not treat myself with such gentleness?  Ah, that calls for some half-baked philosophy more suitable to Lame Post Friday.

There’s a director who got into his work.

I thought a random silly picture would pep things up.  It also cheers me up.  Who could be uncheered by William Castle?   What other pictures can I find?  I’ll check my Media Library.

But sometimes I am piddle puttering.

Here’s another bit of silliness,  given to me by my sister Cheryl.

This is not exactly a monster picture

I add this not because it is silly, but because it is a good reason for me to keep making posts, however foolish they may be.  Maybe I’ll close with something silly, though.

Who, me? Silly? SAY IT AIN’T SO!!!

I’m in a better mood now.  As always,  thank you for tuning in.

 

As the Laundry Turns

My usual plan when I’m going away for the weekend is to write blog posts ahead.  WordPress even has a handy function whereby I can set the posts to Publish at an appropriate future time.

 

You know what, I can just hear somebody carping now (or is it karping?  Carping looks too much like carpe diem, which is not the same thing):  “I thought the point of the blog was to write every day.  If you write blog posts ahead, you are not writing every day now, are you?”

 

Oh, shut up (I explain) (that’s an S.J. Perelman joke).  I’ll still write every day.  I just won’t necessarily write a blog post.  After all, this blog is not the only thing I write.  Besides, SOME readers LIKE to see a post from me every day.  I can’t let them down, can I?  Of course I could, perhaps sometimes I do, but I try not to.

 

I wrote the above when I was sitting in the laundromat Wednesday, wishing to high heaven that somebody had left a magazine lying around.  Once I found a trashy paperback in the laundromat.  That was sweet.  It was somehow a randomly found paperback was a more engrossing read than any number of books I have purchased or selected at the library.

 

No such rescue awaited me on Wednesday.  I sat there with my notebook, attempting to write my novel, a letter, my play, a blog post, ANYTHING.  It was no good.  However, I see that the silliness I did manage is over 200 words.  I call that a blog post, and quite appropriate for Non-Sequitur Thursday.  But whatever will  I do on Lame Post Friday?  Stay tuned, we’ll find out together.

 

John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmitt?

For this week’s Non-Sequitur Thursday, I offer a few unrelated bits of foolishness that occurred to me this week.

I ran Tuesday morning. A little later, as I walked from my vehicle into my place of employment, my legs said, “Yeah, we’re bad. We got this.” Then I walked up the stairs.

“Are you bad?” I asked my legs.

They grumbled, “Why do you have to carry that heavy bag? And what’s wrong with taking the elevator once in a while?”

Before I put on my steel-toed work-shoes, I noticed some words on the lining: “Anti-fatigue technology.” All I could think of is how army pants used to be called “fatigues.” I had a pair of air force fatigues I wore for years. The army pants I wear now are called BDUs, so I’m good.

A song keeps playing in my head that I used to hear in kindergarten. It concerns a grandfather who owned a grandfather clock.

And it stopped.
Short.
Never to run again
when the old man died.

I remember thinking it was the saddest thing, because I was sad when my own grandfather died. I also found it a little scary, in an enjoyably shivery way, because there was obviously some form of magic at work. Now I think Grandpa was the only one who bothered to wind the clock. Still, I’m sick of hearing those few lines in my head over and over. They are the only words I ever remember hearing.

And that’s what I got for today. I hope it amused. I’m afraid tomorrow I will be kicking myself for not saving these little gems for Lame Post Friday.

Just a Little Silliness

I’m afraid it’s Wuss Out Wednesday, a feature I have not taken gross advantage of like, for example, Lame Post Friday and Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I didn’t like the “real” post I was working on, but I came up with this bit of nonsense which I am oddly a little proud of. It may be that this will only be appreciated by theatre geeks — uh, I mean theatre lovers. It’s best read out loud in an airhead voice.

I have to do this paper for my online MFA course, so I thought I’d do it about that modern playwrite, Henry Gibson. Why everybody thought he was so modern when he was writing in the 1800s, I don’t know, but that’s what they call him. I know he wrote a play about hunting, something about a Wild Duck. I don’t think it it included recipes, which is too bad, because my boyfriend hunts.

What? I don’t see why plays can’t include recipes. They could put them in the program notes. I once read an Agatha Christie novel that included a recipe for chocolate cake. Delish!

Anyways, getting back to Gibson, I think he also wrote a play that was a biography of Hedda Hopper, only he had to change the name to avoid a lawsuit. I forget what that one was called.

I was hoping they had made movies out of his plays so I wouldn’t have to read them. Of course I mean read them AGAIN. I’ve read Gibson. That other guy, too, that wrote about the salesman. Roger Miller. Or was it Barney?