Tag Archives: humor

Daily walk

(Dec 13 5:55 p.m.)

Ice on the ground
hurts my knees;
wind gusts, around
shake ice from trees.
It shouldn’t have to be so hard
to walk outside these days.
But what can I say?
I can be stubborn
in my day-to-day ways.

It’s a winter wonderland
obstacle course
out there.
And it’s not officially winter!

Baby, It’s Cold Inside

(Dec 12 2:45 p.m.)
(Dec 12 2:45 p.m.)

Yeah, it snowed again.  But on the predicted day, so Accuweather got it right.  And tonight, overnight, it should get down to… 1 to 5°F (-12 to -15°C).  And that’s not counting wind chill, which, according to my ears (and my skin earlier; briefly ⛄), is intense.  Feels like: -25. 🙂 And it’s still technically Fall.

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Amazingly, some leaves are still up. (Dec 12 2:46 p.m.)

Thank God for artificial heating, right?  Well, the electric heaters in the house never seem to be enough on cold days like these.  I’ve been wearing a “knit” acrylic hat in the house since around Thanksgiving.

(Dec 15 2:39 p.m.)
Lower roofs, looking down from top floor of Portland USM library. (Dec 15 2:39 p.m.)

On Friday, we are looking at below zero temperatures.  And after that, more snow.  It’s serious enough that one group facilitator decided to postpone a bowling event.

(Dec 14 3:11 p.m.)
Choppy panorama… literally speaking, given the partial cars. (Dec 14 3:11 p.m.)

I wonder what causes these scattered little indentations in the snow on these roofs. Continue reading Baby, It’s Cold Inside

Of building bridges… and sheep

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(Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)

“The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn.” —David Russell

Yeah, okay, so that quote doesn’t quite apply here, lol.  I’m not known for burning bridges, literal or otherwise.  I don’t forget people.  My memory may not be 100%, but I still remember faces, even if the names escape me.  Every once and a while a regret may pop up in my head over broken connections and bad impressions… but those things are a part of life.

On the literal side of things, a new bridge was recently built to replace an old one and make way for new power lines, here in Nowhere, Maine.  (Buxton, to be precise.)  It was the Bar Mills Bridge, built in 1936, that had to go.  The green bridge, which closed July 11, is still being dismantled…

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New beside old. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)

Large trucks (above a certain weight) were not permitted to use the old bridge, for obvious reasons.  (Eighty years old.)

Side view, across. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)
Side view, across. (Nov 16 2:13 p.m.)

The new one was completed in November— a contract of 120 days.

Welding sparks in the distance. (Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)
Sparks in the distance. (Nov 16 2:14 p.m.)

On the metaphorical side, I have a real problem at building my own bridges.  An Aspie who fell out of love with life, connecting with people has always been hard.  But I must build.  No man is an island.  We must grow to live.  At least professionally, we need relationships.  Of course, there’s always some pain in the process, some kind of labor.  And when a bridge fails, it can take part(s) of you down with it… But we need to exercise the right muscles; we need to try to repair and move on.  Sometimes we can manage without a bridge somewhere, but every so often we must rebuild.

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(Nov 16 2:17 p.m.)

All of us come and go in our own time, and none of us are the same.  What was sweet is bound to turn sour, so we must accept facts and learn to move on— forgive when it is time.  Easier said than done sometimes.  But if we can, in fact, never forget someone who no longer needs us… then why try to hold on if we’ll always remember?

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(Nov 16 2:15 p.m.)

Soon after crossing that new literal bridge over Saco River, and for the first time, my mother spotted some sheep.  Or, at least they appear to be sheep…

(Nov 16 2:16 p.m.)
Horned.  The images I came across for bighorns didn’t quite look like these.  They can’t all be rams, can they? (Nov 16 2:16 p.m.)

She pulled over.  It was quite sudden, but there was no traffic.  And so I took the opportunity; I crossed the road, and approached the fence.  And they, the sheep, were excited.  They may have expected food (from strangers), considering they rose to see me.  Needless to say, there was no intellectual conversation to be had.  I said “hello,” and one of them immediately pooed.  They all gradually turned their heads away.  …Again, I’m not known for connecting very well with others.  Noticing the dropping of “malted milk balls,” I said “okay,” and moved on to the other side of the barn. …And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you to never eat Whoppers® again.

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(Nov 16 2:17 p.m.)

On the other side of the barn, I got some baas.  Click here for a video.

I could go into the metaphors of being a “sheep” and “don’t be like a sheep to the slaughter,” and stuff like that, but… nah.  (Or na’ah’ah…)  We’re all on our way to some place, and it’s not really my place to tell you, dear reader, what to think.  I can, however, ask you to be honest with yourself, in good reason and good health.

Well, I got a lot of backlog of reading and writing to tend to.  Until next time…

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(Nov 20 3:03 p.m.)

For the Love of… coffee

Welcome to yet more Friday Fiction!  Hosted by Rochelle of Addicted to Purple, people from all over the world try at writing a three-part short story for a picture prompt by week’s end.  And also make it no more than a hundred words total.  This week’s image is from Dee, over at 40again’s Blog.

Click here to see what others have written for the prompt, or add your own.

Okay.  Let me formally apologize for not being here much at this point, save the Fictioneers writes.  But I’ve still got stuff in store, processing photos for more exposure of Summer… rather large images given my decreasing intolerance for JPEG loss.  But until I get all that up, here’s Bill and Ed’s ordinary adventure… Enjoy.

100 words


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Photo Copyright © Dee Lovering

“Why do we exist?” Bill asked boldly, as he stood in the cold, hands in his pockets.

Edward, sitting, chuckled.

But Bill wasn’t joking.  “Seriously.  I mean, I get the history of survival, and all, but… with all the things we do?  All these millennia, tempting fate, with war and famine?”

Ed wondered where Bill was going.

“We can be the most unproductive species, and yet…”  Bill stared off into space.

“Bill, what does asking you if you wanted coffee have to do with the existence of humanity?”

Bill pointed back.  “Exactly.  Coffee.”

Five years later, they lived on coffee.


According to a recent study conducted by Nutrition and Dietetics at Harokopio University in Athens, the anti-oxidant and anti-inflammatory effects of habitual coffee drinking may lower your risk of type-2 diabetes by 54%.

This has nothing to do with what I wrote given I heard of the study hours after I finished… but there you go.

Experiments in Car Art

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers!  Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, people from all over the world try their respective hands at writing a three-part short story for a picture prompt by week’s end.  A seriously short, at that—no more than a hundred words.  This week’s prompt photo is from Jean L. Hays.

Well, I got in early this time.  So, assuming no one else already had the idea that quickly flashed into my mind upon seeing the photo, here’s my silly take… Enjoy.

99 words


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Photo Copyright © Jean L. Hays

“What are you doing?” commanding officer Rolfnark asked of the crew.

“Experimenting in, what the humans call, ‘wall art,’” answered crew member Draggard.

“But these are cars,” asserted Rolfnark.

“We couldn’t secure a portal for a wall. …Walls aren’t in the middle of a field.”

Rolfnark sighed over the inexperience of his crew, handed down to him from above.  “So you stole some cars?”

“Rental.”

“Now, why on Mars would you spray-paint rental cars?”

Draggard shrugged.

“Return the Frigg-damn cars, immediately!”

“Oh—oh, okay.  Sir.”

Before long, Rolfnark got word how the cars were returned— shot into the ground.  He face-palmed.


(And if you haven’t heard, The X-Files is returning to television, yay!)

Click here to add your story or see what others have written for the prompt.

Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s Fictioneers page, stories, character studies and… well, artwork in general.  You can follow Purple for the prompt each Wednesday.

Tired

Ugh, getting tired so easily these days… I cannot, for the life of me, tolerate certain things anymore.  Well, of course much the same could be said for anyone, aging… But it’s not a normal part of aging to be so…“out of it” like this.

…Life can be such an upward battle.  Oh, well.

Part of the change is good, though.  Any change has to have a good side, right?  Bear with me. Continue reading Tired

Friday Fictioneers: Hobbies and Interests

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt photo is by David Stewart of The Green-Walled Tower.

Always short on ideas, I began this silly story using a second prompt—the first line.  Initially, because I was watching listening to Mad Men, specifically “Time Zones”, I wrote Don Draper into the story.  But since I don’t want to get sued, I cut him out.  Enjoy.

Genre: Humor
100 words


[prompt image]
Copyright — David Stewart

That’s a strange way to say hello.

Before we spoke, Ralph kissed me on the cheeks.  I suppressed my urge to punch him in the face.  I knew it was customary for him to kiss friends and relatives; he was European; his name was pronounced “Rafe.”  And he came all this way.  We’d met online, and now in person to play in a brass band.

Halfway into the second song, smoke billowed into the gazebo.  No one saw any flames, but we promptly vacated.  Except Ralph.  Turns out, I had overlooked Ralph’s online profile.  His “hobbies and interests” included: arson.


Participation is welcome to all.  The goal is to write a story, beginning-middle-end, in 100 words or less.  You are also encouraged to “think outside of the box.”

Click here to view the inLinkz for what others have written for the prompt, or add one.

Visit Addicted to Purple for Rochelle’s own stories and her Friday Fictioneers page for more details.  You can follow her blog for the prompt each Wednesday.

Suck It Up

Okay, so I have to answer to Notifications.  I still feel like I die a little with them, but I have to suck it up.  It just sucks that blogging is only as social as much as people put out, the way people have to tell you what they want or Do Not Disturb.  And if I’m not clear or don’t know what I actually want, I’m screwed.  I’m always screwed.

Ever since Why Bother, I’ve been thinking about how great Xanga must have been, with vibrant communities, or at least people eager to understand each other.  It predated Facebook (launched 2004) and WordPress (2003).  But…platforms die.

People will flock to the better choice. …Or find themselves forced to join a site over popularity (*cough*  1.3 billion *cough*), and because people you know have left their previous home.

“My…Space?  What is MySpace?”

Maybe if Google didn’t come up with weird names, like Circles, Google+ would’ve lived longer. …Well…it hasn’t died just yet.  As Wired put it:

Google+ as we knew it is dead, but Google is still a social network

The company is, however, giving up on Chrome.

As Android 4.0 (Ice Cream Sandwich) approaches four years old, Google has announced today [March 3] it will no longer release updates for Chrome on the operating system.

*bursts out laughing*  😀 Ice Cream Sandwich!  Oh—I swear, it’s the first time I heard the code name…

Sigh. …But yeah, change is hard.  When you’ve invested yourself into something you’ve worked hard for.  When you lose a part of your youth moving forward.  When something or someone dies.  But ultimately, change is hard when you don’t know how to effectively change.  Especially when you don’t have any support.

And how to change, in a social media spread thin…

In my experience, the only thing effective action in moving forward is to work at your passion, and to trust your gut on making choices, find true friends & loves…and leave Facebook as soon as you freaking can if you want to keep your sanity. …Then again, I may be insane.

Whatever.  Whatever!  Suck it up, me; suck it up.  Get back to life.  Because, the only thing wrong I can do in blogging is try too hard.  (That, and violating actual rules.)

…And whatever you do, don’t say “blow chunks” on twitter.

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