Minimalist Challenge, Day 10

Ten days into the minimalist challenge and I haven’t even come close to running out of things to discard. Today’s destash is a mashup of items found in various closets at Doright Manor. There is no theme for today, just a big “buhbye!”

(See the poem below the photo for a list of the items.)

I can write a poem about today’s purge, but it won’t be pretty!

Three frames I see, yet they sit empty, and a vaseless bouquet that’ll never decay.

Essential oils in a tiny vial, and an eye liner tube I tried on trial

A spent toothbrush not fit to be used, and a broken cow ornament without any moos.

Finally two empty bags, old and sad, who knows why I kept them? Perhaps I’m mad.

Peace, people.

Odds and Evens

Odds and Evens

I’m on a roll with the odd word, feeling lucky in this odd world, moreover,

Never tell me the odds, even if I plead, even if they favor me. Odd one out,

Even Steven, even playing field, even I can read the writing on the wall. After

All, I’m an odd duck, even on my best days, even when I try to fit in. By

The way, this isn’t even one of those days. Odd, don’t you think? Then we’re even.

This piece of nonsense came about when I realized my previous two posts had the word “Odd” in the titles. Since two is an even number I had to go for a third post using the word “odd”; because I believe in evening things out. Or something.

Additionally, I spent the day frittering away my time, getting my hair cut and colored. Holy cow, is my hair dark! I’m even odder looking now. See what I did there?

Peace, people!

The Ballad of the Washing Machine

The Ballad of the Washing Machine
(with apologies to all poets)
By Leslie Noyes

A dark and stormy night, it was
(With a nod to good old Snoopy),
Thunder boomed and lightning struck,
All our appliances then went loopy.

The tv died, our elliptical fried,
Repairmen were soon called,
And all was made as good as new,
Except for the washer, there we stalled.

I made plans with GE service,
A technician soon would arrive,
But he fell ill, and couldn’t come,
For another week we’d strive.

Off I went to the laundromat,
Two baskets full of clothes,
There I was accosted in broad daylight,
By a man who didn’t know “no!”

The GE man was finally well,
When he arrived with a smiling face,
“All you need is this new part;
I’ll order with due haste.”

A week went by and he returned,
The part was here and ready.
“Oh dear,” he said, “This part’s not right!”
I felt less than steady.

So I returned to the laundromat,
With detergent and some mace,
But no one messed with me this time,
I had on my mean game face.

Seven more days I waited for news,
We finally got a part,
Back came the man from old GE,
“Oops, I hate to break your heart.

“Your machine is unrepairable,
It suffered a fatal blow,
So I can’t help you; sorry folks,
This washer has to go.”

I muttered a phrase beneath my breath
It rhymed with “duck, duck, duck,”
Then traipsed off to the laundromat
Hoping for better luck.

Now I must buy a new machine,
And it won’t match my dryer,
This model is no longer made
And the cost will be much higher.

This ends my tale, at least for now,
I’ve run out of patience and bucks
There’s nothing to say, but that old phrase,
That rhymes with “duck, duck, duck.”

Secret, Secret Agent

For this day I’ve decided to be a secret agent. I will be unobtrusive, nondescript, a silhouette of my usual self.

My cavalier demeanor will bely my purpose: to spy, observe, and report on my fellow citizens.

So far, I have noted one woman pushing a baby stroller. What nefarious plan might she be hatching?

I will hide in plain sight in hopes that her motives are revealed. Oh! Look! Starbucks on the right. Maybe another day.

Plump

My thighs are plump,
As is my rump
My tummy, too
Has a fluffy bump
And if all that
Weren’t bad enough
My face is fat,
My cheeks look stuft.
The only parts
That still look thin
Are my narrow lips
And pointy chin.
Don’t look for me
In this year’s issue
Of Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Edition.

The New Year Approacheth

As the final few hours of 2016 tick away, Studly is yawning and I’m in my p.j.s.

Invitations? We had a few, but decided on spending a quiet night for two.

We’ll watch college football until 10 or so, then off to our bed we’ll gladly go.

At midnight I’ll give Studly a kiss; he’ll mumble I love you and return to his bliss.

The ball will drop in New York City, while my man and I snore along with our kitties.

Happy New Year to all, may this one be great, however you choose to celebrate.

Peace, people.

At a Loss for Words

I turned to Studly Doright a few minutes ago and said, “I’ve got nothing. No blog ideas. No inspiration.”

He grunted. So here’s a post about grunts.

     “Grunting Muse”

Honey can you help me?

Ungh?

I need an idea now.

Mmmph.

Anything on your mind?

Hunh?

Something with some zow?

Ergh!

You’ve been so very helpful!

Whuh?

With all your clever sounds.

Hmmm!

My muse you’ve been, as usual.

Shhsh!

Your wisdom knows no bounds.

Harrumph

Peace, people!

Birdsong Expert

Listening to the forest come to life is educational, and now my interest is beyond recreational.

I’ve become quite an expert in identifying birds by the sounds of their trills, now to put it in words.

There are the “Birdy Birdy” birds ’cause that’s what they say and the “Cheery Cheery” birds beckoning play.

One I’ve dubbed “Whistler’s Mum” for its lilting melodies, and another the “Car Alarm.” So annoying. Stop please!

“Dog Call” is the perfect name for one feathered friend, while “Scolder” seems anxious to point out my sins.

One poses a question, I call it, “Say What?” Just one tree over “Look at Me”
thinks he’s so hot.

Surely the experts on nature will soon call to consult me in matters of bird life, et. al.

  
Peace people!

When God Speaks

https://www.facebook.com/leslie.h.noyes/posts/10207965981321722

When God speaks I hear
Love others as yourself
Judge not
Fear not

When some hear God
They say He wants them to
Run for office
Exclude others
Discriminate

I really doubt that’s
God talking.