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Blogging, to take over the world. |
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The object is to teach an old dog new tricks. (not much hope ... ) |
| There is the story which has been told many times - certain stories need to be re-told, such is the fate of stories. The Sunday School teacher told the kids the story of Noah and the great flood. At the end of the story, the teacher asked if there were any questions. Little John, whose dad was a farmer, asked "Teacher, were the farmers then happy with all the rain?" Officially this can be said today, the worst drought recorded in a hundred years is at an end, now we got flooded - just can't win! So much for being a farmer, always something to be thankful for. This is at the end of summer, at least we will have a good winter crop. (These floods are not everywhere, time will tell the story in full) |
| Puns and toilet stories are the worst ever subjects, yet, sometimes, they can be worth a retell. Like the time the wife heard one of the kids flushing the bowl, time and time again. When she looked in on the youngster, there he was, pressing the handle down, then peering very intently into the bowl. Wife asked the young what was the problem. The answer was "It won't go away ..." Wife went closer to look at the 'problem'. A kitten, half drowned, was battling the numerous assaults not to be flushed into eternity. The usual discussions followed, to date, no living creatures were flushed again, none that I know off. Why this story now? Yesterday, I was woken with the words "Wake up - come look here ..." The sun was still low on the horizon, darkness was slowly leaving the scene. A look into the bowl in the half light; there was something in there, dark, and moving. My fuzzy brain thought 'T'is ain't normal, what the ...' The Porta-light (torch) was called for - and in the light - there it was; a great big hairy nasty rat! Half drowned and trying to get out, not willing to be flushed away. This story has a nasty ending, sensitive souls should not read anymore ... The BBQ pliers was used to get hold of the rat's tail, the tail was then carefully picked up in a rag, and the body with the BBQ tool, into a big bucket, another bucket on top - outside, where the unfortunate rat was introduced to Sylvester, the Cat. Less said the better, except the cat now follows me closely, with a happy Cheshire cat grin. |
| The end is in sight ... The hundred year drought may be done. Rumors of storms, floods, and suchlike events have reached our ears. Down the road, a hundred miles or so, in the city where J R R Tolkien was born - there were floods. http://citizen.co.za/news/south-africa/.../pics-video-floods-drown-bloemfontein/... and here the geese looked down the road; "Oh, is that so?" ... looking for a blade o' green grass. Life went on as before: 'Ol mother went to the cupboard To fetch the sheep a bale o' hay. When she got there - the deer had a say. Sorry M'am, we ate it all yesterday.' So we wait a while longer - maybe we will see water come our way, just maybe ... |
| Just as well I never made New-Year's plans. The issues went from 'great-ideas' to 'what was it again' or 'one never remembers Murphy's Laws'. Not all bad, the silver lining is still visible, there is more of it - considering the cloud grew in size. A silver lining should always be in the eye, else there is no hope of a tomorrow. The worst drought in a 100 years went to year 101. May we say 'Happy Birthday' to bad news, it means the end is closer? It will be a busy year, much depends on so many factors out of ones control - still we will try. Things are worse for others, starts to count my blessings ... |
| The date is the 23rd, in another few weeks, a month and a bit, the year will be done. Looks at the >>>[LIST]<<< and hopefully it will be shorter in the new year. The World needs nothing from man, yet man owes the World, which we as mankind seem to forget. There is much to be said, not much will be new news. Time will tell ... |
| A custom of way back, to congratulate, to celebrate, to announce a happening - a new addition to the family - at long last. A puppy! Now, normally a puppy would be an event of some joy, depending on the who, when, and why. In this case, Madam Penguin (yes, a canine called such) eventually got round to the facts of life, and in her advanced age became a mother. All is well, mother and puppy are doing well. A cross miniature Doberman and Toy Pom. The less said, the better. 10/08/2018 Update - 10/10/2018 @ 8pm Complications set in, the mother was not as well as we thought. There was a fetus still in her, and the vet removed it. Sepsis may have set in, and she passed away. Life goes on in her puppy, she will be missed. Such is life ... Requiem for a Life well lived: Penguin for 12 years of always being there. |
  Spring tidings: The Eclipse of the year came on as a spectacular show, it was a 'clear and calm night', as clear as daylight - almost. Only one minor issue marred the affair, it was a 'cold, clear and calm night' and the cold cut the visiting period short for me. For those who did not see it, it is available at various internet sites dated 27th of July 2018. Spring is in the air, babies are arriving, an antelope, a calf, lambs from Mary, Sue, even a set of twins from Ann, waiting for more --- soon the bugs and bees will abound. Many more events planned for the rest of the year. |
| @ 01H15 (or close to it) the Toy Pom started to have pups. So the Father of the pups told me. He announced the happy affair loud and clear, so much so, the caretaker (author/me) was woken up to tend to the ... (what am I supposed to do?) affair. All which was to be done, was already done - except the offering of congratulations. There - this is what is required - here; everyone ... have a dog biscuit, for we have puppies! No, I have not counted them yet, the process is still in progress, and I am having a cuppa brew, the best English tea, or so the advert said. Update will follow soon, now I must tend to affairs. 02H10 One pup, (black; questions will be asked, as Dad and Mom are both tan) Oh, never looked, boy or girl? 07H00: one stillborn, tally stays at one. |
| 'Order', the word which should be clearly heard; if there is no order, then 'typoo' would be an international language. Plastic, plastic everywhere, even in the water which is used for the drink. The drink has plastic in it, so it is told - even an island of plastic has formed - wonders if it has a name yet - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pacific_garbage_patch War and peace can be declared in a moment, fair enough, it takes time to get there, one needs peace to start with, then the peace is broken and war follows - all very quickly. War is not all too easy to stop, it takes a while, the anatomy of war finds many a space on the shelves of the memory. The memory banks then may glorify or vilify the event - heroes will be born, villains will wallow in the mess of their minds, blood will flow - all for the sake of a cause; lost or not. The war against Plastic should be declared ... When? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silent_Spring |
| E = mc2. An equation derived by the twentieth-century physicist Albert Einstein, in which E represents units of energy, m represents units of mass, and c2 is the speed of light squared, or multiplied by itself. OR: as I have calculated - E = Enything which needs to be done = = a person or tool; not a person who is a tool; (could a tool be a person or vice versa?) m = movements - which is GOYA (get off your armchair?) c = Quickly; as in now, soon, yesterday. 2 = double time This means I have way too much time on my hands to sit in my armchair and think of all the woes of this world of mine. Then still do nothing about it all. Consider this as a work in progress. Goes into procrastination mode which is - "I am thinking about it." |
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Did you predict today's blog prompt, Rich! Yay for the new entry! 
I thought you quit blogging!