Living in this world
takes concentration and verve
not to mention nerve.
Pain abounds in life
miseries without an end
oh humanity!
Yet deep within us
exists enduring beauty
sweetly transcendent.
Photos found on Pinterest.
Peace, people!
Our little neighborhood of Lake Yvette planned a community garage sale for this fine Saturday morning. Eagerly I joined the ranks of those willing to participate. Gamely I priced some of the treasures (junk) that we moved from Illinois to Florida a little over a year ago.
I’d forgotten that the roofers were coming this morning. They were supposed to have come on Thursday, but we had rain so they rescheduled. Now there are nail guns hammering to the mind-numbing tune of an air compressor, not to mention a truck partially blocking my driveway.
Here I sit, surrounded by treasures (junk). People stop and look for a few minutes before saying something like, “How do you stand this racket?”
I answer, “Huh?”
Then they leave.
I’ve taken in $3. My portion of the ad was $10. My signs cost $7. Only $14 until I break even.
Peace, people!
Oh, Studly Doright is on the golf course, I get 100% of the profits. How much is 100% of nothing?
no tears for BB
instead we all sang the blues
sharing our sorrow.
The Princess Diana Beanie Baby. Is she worth anything at all? How does one find out this kind of information?
rage boils, surface deep
rising past the release valve
scalding all in reach.
damn it all to hell!
bursts of scathing words exchanged;
none retractable.
prayers for patience
seemingly go unanswered
temper lost again.
In response to the Daily Prompt: The clothes (may) make the (wo)man. How important are clothes to you? Describe your style if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself.
i often complain
that i’ve not found my style
some days i’m tailored,
then gypsy awhile.
my brain and my body
can seldom agree
on what I should wear
or what looks best on me.
at my age you’d think
I’d have developed a plan
for looking my best
or as sharp as i can.
alas i’m afraid
more often than not
my style comes across
looking none too hot.
I have some incredibly stylish friends, women and men who know exactly what defines their look. I admire their fashion sense. Occasionally I can almost picture my own style and decide to build a suitable wardrobe. Then something odd or offbeat catches my eye and I’m off on a tangent. A style tangent.
yes, I tried this pose
after finding a blank wall
now i cant get down.
In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Land of Confusion. Which subject in school did you find impossible to master? Did math give you hives? Did English make you scream? Do tell!
I was a smart kid. Not motivated, and certainly not well-directed in my educational goals, but I had a talent for learning and for taking tests.
My family wasn’t particularly concerned with my academic performance. They were pleased that I earned good grades, but there really weren’t any expectations that I’d go on to college.
For the first eight years of my formal education all the subjects were ridiculously easy for me: English grammar and literature, Social Studies, even Science and Mathematics. Seldom did I need to study, even though had I done so on a regular basis I might have ended up near the top of my class.
In ninth grade my good grades landed me in an accelerated algebra class and my educational wheels fell off. I worked my butt off in that class, but the concepts were so abstract that my brain was unable to process them.
I literally thought that I must have missed the lesson explaining what “n” and “x” were, so night after night I’d reread my algebra text from the beginning trying to unlock the code. Surely, I thought, if I could just figure out their values I’d be okay. The concept of a variable just made no sense.
With the help of a good and brilliant friend I managed to stay afloat, even though she occasionally became exasperated and annoyed with my questions. It seemed simple to her, why couldn’t everyone “get it?”
Our accelerated class churned through one and a half years of algebra in one school year, then we moved on to Geometry. Holy crap. If I’d been merely struggling in algebra, geometry put me down for the count. I lasted half the year and then dropped the class since it wasn’t required to graduate.
I can’t even remember what replaced Geometry in my schedule, I just know that for the first time in my academic life I doubted myself. It was a lowdown, crummy feeling.
Following my junior year my family moved to a slightly larger town. I met my future husband (Studly Doright was so cute back then) and even though I went to junior college for a year my heart wasn’t in it, and I was petrified by the idea that I wouldn’t be able to conquer college algebra. So I married my Studly and we settled into our lives together.
When our children were in elementary school we decided that I should go back to college, and with a totally new focus I rocked that scene. To my surprise and delight I was still a smart kid. With trepidation I faced my college algebra class. What was once too abstract for my 14-year-old brain now made sense. Amazing!
It was the only class I didn’t earn an “A” in, though, preventing me from graduating college with a perfect 4.0. But, that “B” felt like a victory after all those years, and summa cum laude looked great on my transcript.
Take that, algebra! 
Peace, people!
The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: What’s the household task you most despise doing? That’s too easy.
Scrubbing toilets, ugh!
an onerous job, no doubt
deliver me please!
Surely scientists
who’ve put humans on the moon
could solve this problem.
A self-cleaning john
for every domicile
let this be our goal!
I’m a big fan of festivals. All festivals. I don’t care what’s being celebrated or honored or paraded, if there’s a festival within easy driving distance I’m there. After all, every festival needs a queen. I’d love to be queen.
This past Saturday while Studly was playing golf I drove about 35 miles east to the Mayhaw Festival held at Golden Acres ranch just outside of Monticello, Florida. I had no idea what a Mayhaw was, but it sounded vaguely Southern so I couldn’t wait to see what this festival was all about.
In my excitement I failed to check event times and arrived just about the same time that the various exhibitors were setting up. Oops. I wandered around and visited with folks, but there wasn’t a lot going on.
However, the morning weather was absolutely gorgeous without the heavy humidity and heat that would set in later in the morning. Maybe early was better after all. My chances of being named Queen increased significantly with me being one of the few women present.
This gorgeous rooster and I kind of bonded. He followed me around like a little lamb. But My name isn’t Mary and he was no lamb. I think he wanted me to join his harem. I respectfully declined. I did ask him if I could be Queen of the Mayhaw Festival. He just said, “cockahahaha!”
This baby Pygmy goat was three weeks old. Her name was Daisy and she was a big hit with the few children in attendance. When I asked Daisy what my chances of being named Mayhaw Queen were she said, “baaaaaad”
I bought a couple of items. On the left is a jar of salsa. I’m opening it tonight. On the right is a jar of Mayhaw jelly. I asked what a Mayhaw was before making my purchase, after all I’m not a complete idiot. Mayhaws are small red berries that resemble cranberries. The sample taste was pleasant–tart and rich.
As festivals go this one was pretty laid back. Maybe if I’d stuck around the activity might have increased. But, the temps were headed up into the 90’s on Saturday, and I’m such a delicate little flower that I headed home for a nice long (three hour!) nap.
Festivals are common in this area during the spring and summer, and I’ve started looking for one to attend next weekend. I’d really like one willing to name me Queen over the proceedings. I’d ride in the parade in a lovely gown of fuschia or purple or lime green and wave at all the little people.
Peace, little people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 