Monthly Archives: September 2023

The Alphabet Series the letter L

L is for Loquacious

The lazy lizards, lingered and forlorn

Lumbering like low lying Lilliputians.

Lewd and loquacious

Lobbying for levitation

Their legal elected official motivation, much more.

It is a mouthful.

… Seriously just saying

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J Is For Junk Drawer

 

Marshall says, “Every Man Needs a Junk Drawer

 My husband, of 52 years, walked into the kitchen and asked, “Have you seen my what-ch-ma- thing?”

I knew exactly what he is talking about because he had on glasses and was holding a plastic tube of wood glue.

“You wanted the who-GA-ma-call-it put back together, and I need it.” He stammered and shook his head; his eyes focused on a ceiling corner in an attempt to retrieve the information.

I relished his sputtering, because earlier in the day our discussion about his health ended with him yelling,  “You’re right, you’re always right, but you can’t make me do it.” And me leaving the room to avoid a fist fight.

He followed me with comments about who was right versus wrong, and smashed his toes, which hung over the front of his slippers, into the floor molding; and consequently hipped hopped about, flamingo style, scrunching his face like a shriveled prune and swearing, . . . shit. . . shit. . . shit.

I gave him no sympathy.

After rubbing his toes, he blurted out the real issue, “Why can’t we have a junk drawer?”

Yes, you heard right, we do not have a junk drawer. I am philosophically opposed to the concept and wonder why people accumulate items, they do not want and have no need for; useless items, that fill a complete kitchen drawer.

“We have managed for fifty two years with out a kitchen drawer bursting with rubbish. Why would you want one now!” I yelled back.

“Marshal says every man needs a junk drawer, all the guys have one, I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

“Marshal says? Okay,. . . You want a junk drawer,  for things you have no use for but, want to keep just in case. I get it, and what would you put in this drawer?” I asked.

“My who-Ga-ma-call-it, golf balls and golf tees, I don’t know, STUFF!” He answered.

“Don’t you keep golf balls and tees in your golf bag? And the what-ch-ma-thing is in your tool box.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I hate it when you’re right!”

                       . . . Seriously just saying

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Wikipedia definition, “A junk drawer or junk-drawer is a drawer used for storing small, miscellaneous, occasionally useful objects of little to no (or unclear) monetary value, and possibly significant sentimental value. Junk drawers are often located in residential kitchens, but they may exist anywhere with cabinetry or furniture used for storage, including home offices or workshops, and even commercial workplaces and businesses. The phrase “junk drawer” appears to be an Americanism dating to the early 1900s.”

Impossible

 

Photo by Steve Johnson

The Alphabet Series I is for Impossible

I is for Impossible in the Alphabet Series. There are many fabulous words beginning with the letter I­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­. Words like; impromptu, improvise, improbable, and imply to name a few and therefore it was difficult to choose.

Then I woke-up today and have a crazy habit of reminding myself of the date, day of the week, and how many days are left in the year. Well, there are only 113 days before we say goodbye to 2023, and hello to 2024. And that’s where impossible became first and foremost in my mind. Impossible, as in never or slim to none chance of happening.

 Yet how did it happen! How could I possibly be seventy-five years old? It’s not my birthday, or even my birthday week. My birthday is in June. But every day since then I’ve lamented the impossibility of being this age. I could approach this impossibility with an attitude adjustment. Is the glass have full, and I’m lucky to be alive, or half empty, and holy crap; I’m done with the good years?   

Since I work well towards a goal, I’ve decided to reach 80 (that’s only 5 years away), so let’s make it 90 which is fifteen years away and not be wearing diapers. It’s not impossible  

                                                                                         . . . just saying

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