My cradle’s hoisted high aloft,
Atop the nearest oak.
Placed there by my sister,
It was meant to be a joke.

Then barometric changes caused
My tiny bed to sway;

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Passing a construction site, yesterday, I parked my car alongside the roadway and watched for about half an hour while workmen methodically dismantled a building that had served, faithfully, for years as an elementary school.

My gaze tracked a crack in the old sidewalk alongside what was left of the south wall, up the front steps, toward the side door, and wandered into fuzzy memories of Bobby pulling Paula’s hair in geography class and Freda kissing Bif on the playground near the swings. Both felonies, now, but at one time regarded as almost a rite of passage.

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I’ve been unable to read “The Three Musketeers”, by Alexandre Dumas. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to; I simply can’t. About 3 pages in I always fall asleep. Narcotics aren’t this effective.

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The alarm oozed, rather than blared, as the late great Richard Harris lamented that “Someone left the cake out in the rain”*; rendering the snooze button obsolete. This was, apparently, a special one-of-a-kind cake, whose loss was enough to bring the famous Irishman close to tears.

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I continue to be astounded at the capacity and endurance of the human bladder. A fabulous little balloon that, if functioning properly, saves us the discomfort of being catheterized. Volumes have been written about this versatile article, and numerous articles composed expounding on its volume.

As I winced and squinted and crossed my legs through the final moments of last night’s game it occurred to me that Jayhawks must have large and durable bladders, as well. It would, after all, match the tenacity and stamina of these mythical creatures.

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Sorry, I've been in meetings all week, so there isn't much to see here right now.

I might suggest that you join the discussions at

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I'm posting this image of "Earl?" on a wild ride as part of a tennis match at Wil Wheaton's Blog.

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Stubbornly congenial,
You're patient to a fault.
I've seen your disposition thwart
A blistering assault

Hackle-wise, you're hard to raise,
No matter what I say.

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In honor of the holiday I'm reposting a poem that has been attributed to an unknown 9th century Irish monk. Seemed to be the appropriate time.

No, I did not write it. I only wish I had.

I'll admit that I lead a life of relative solitude with a cat in residence; but the similarities, I'm sure, end there.


I and Pangur Ban my cat,
'Tis a like task we are at:
Hunting mice is his delight,

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Newton didn’t just steal Kepler’s Laws of Planetary Motion for his own purposes; he also discovered that a Golden Delicious apple, though less dense than a McIntosh, is crisper when refrigerated to 39 degrees Fahrenheit.

Centuries later, Einstein was able to improve on Newton’s theories when riding on a train, going 50 miles per hour rounding a bend at dusk, he realized the reading light was better in the dining car than his sleeping berth.

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"If you catch a big eel
And it gnaws through your creel..."

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Recently, I was approached by a local gang about the possibility of me becoming a member. Not an overtly lawless bunch, still I have heard they wear some pretty daring outfits for bookish types. A couple of them were reportedly seen sporting paisley scarves.

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This week we will be celebrating the anniversary of the creation of the known universe. Just 37 years since the series of events that resulted in the eventual formation of the Milky Way Galaxy, and in turn, our own solar system, known to other solar systems simply as “Bob”.

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I was tagged by Montucky for a new meme. It’s a six word memoir, inspired by Hemingway, who once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. He came up with: For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Here are the meme rules:

1. Write your own six word memoir.

2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.

3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post, if possible, so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.

4 .Tag five more blogs with links.

5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

So here’s my thought at the moment:

”Think outside it? Sure.



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When did “Defiance” become such a bad word?

Where would we be if Prometheus had bowed to the will of the gods, and never invented the disposable lighter?...

Or if Orville and Wilbur had just wandered back to their bicycle shop and given up on their attempts to defy gravity after being told of the impending flight attendants strike?...

Or if...

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There was nothing particularly unusual about the ball. A royal blue, 8-inch diameter polyurethane orb with red stripes, purchased for 3 year old Preston as a reward for recognizing his potty chair as more than just a step up to allow easier access for emptying the toothpaste tube into mommy’s hairbrush.

This morning the ball had been enjoying a brisk game of “Kick me Against the Siding” with Preston, when it suddenly found itself going one on one with a beige sedan. If inflated plastic is capable of possessing emotions such as hope, and desire, this particular ball was now desperately wishing it were somewhere else.

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Your eyes are just like limpid pools,
Of this, no more I’ll speak,
’Cause I don’t know what limpid means;
Unless it’s “Swamp”, in Greek.

They say your body’s heavenly,
A marvel to behold.
Warm’s the side that sees the sun,

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Aaah...February. The month of hearts and presidents. Not only do we celebrate the birth of two of America's most famous statesmen, but lavish our loved ones and sweethearts with gifts of pewter and Vienna sausages.

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Undoubtedly, one of the most influential occurrences on planet Earth took place in what later came to be known as the ‘Cambrian’ period. Life was simpler then. Really. A lot simpler. And Dom was a simple jawless fish. As Fate would have it (if one believes in that sort of thing) Dom also had a simple aneurysm.

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Placing the phone back in its cradle I found myself faced with a situation, not unlike those fabled knights of old, of slaying the dragon to protect fair maiden. The dragon in question was, in reality, a garter snake approximately 10 inches in length and slightly smaller around than your little finger. The fair maiden in need of rescue was a female friend of mine who lived in a duplex across town.

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