Light in the park.
So my brain feels empty. Isn’t that amazing. Ever happen to you?
Eric’s Christmas Tree. Told him send the pic, only one I’m likely to “have” this year.
This is a journal. I will record my thoughts and pictures here occasionally. Readers can comment, if they wish.
Light in the park.
So my brain feels empty. Isn’t that amazing. Ever happen to you?
Eric’s Christmas Tree. Told him send the pic, only one I’m likely to “have” this year.
Then respond: I suspect my ego takes pleasure in playing “Lady Bountiful” with financial aids that I offer and that I stir the pot by listening to the dissatisfaction of one party’s views of cheating by the other. Also by trying to fix psychological roots beyond my ken, maybe with a threat: So King Solomon says cut the baby in half, nobody will get anything. Also, am I not taking sly pleasure in that unintended role of judge who writes THE narrative in my mind for the present and future events of this relationship? After all, I have raised the issue twice after it was initiated by the “plaintiff.” But now I am ready to say no more about it to anyone, including myself. That seems impartial, if I manage to do it without feelings of dread.
Money truly is the root of evil. And pending death does not slow that down.
Beelzebub does famously advise on the last page of his Tales to his grandson:
“The sole means now for the saving of the beings of the planet Earth would be to implant again into their presences a new organ, an organ like Kundabuffer, but this time of such properties that every one of these unfortunates during the process of existence should constantly sense and be cognizant of the inevitability of his own death as well as of the death of everyone upon whom his eyes or attention rests. “Only such a sensation and such a cognizance can now destroy the egoism completely crystallized in them that has swallowed up the whole of their Essence and also that tendency to hate others which flows from it—the tendency, namely, which engenders all those mutual relationships existing there, which serve as the chief cause of all their abnormalities unbecoming to three-brained beings and maleficent for them themselves and for the whole of the Universe.”
I keep going back-and-forth on the lights opinion: They did not look so spectacular to me yesterday as they have in past years. Still can’t help loving them Though Red obviously likes the snow better.
OSU lost the big game and Conference championship to Indiana last night in a late game, which was exciting enough to keep me up till 11 PM. Of course I’m sorry our home team lost, but can’t say I’m sorry Indiana won… What does that tell you? I do like the Hoosier quarterback, and will look forward to watching his career in the future.
Ta ta for now. I’m hungry and the soup smells done.
Which is that I often speak with unwarranted authority from presumption. My judgment of our town Christmas lights is the example. Yesterday’s comments were based on daytime, unlit viewing. I saw them after (frigid) dark last night and will say now, “Best Ever!” The colored strands were apparently moved to the park and also to augment some side streets in very effective contrasting concentrations of green, blue, red. Well done, city maintenance workers!
Perhaps relatedly, I’m seeing fewer individual neighborhood displays so far, including in my own house. If I neglected to say it before, lights are my favorite Christmas tradition.
Can you tell this is a cut crystal sphere hanging in front of a full moon? Super full moon, actually, October 6. Pause and see what effects it has on you. Might help account for my “communications issues.” Must always bear in mind some friction improves things, even though uncomfortable.
Barbara P’s picture, from Brother’s home, Colorado, in October
I lifted this image from a video B sent me after I mentioned in webinar the red tailed hawk I photographed in the park a couple of days ago. The bird’s catch adds much emotional weight to the image. Not exactly “Breakfast at Tiffany’s :)” I am honored. We have a shared experience with observing these birds.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
DYLAN THOMAS
I just spoke by phone with my dying sister eight hundred miles. Very unhappy.
Beauty, at least its memory, remains.
This is from our canal trail walk yesterday. C said Red could be in the LLB catalo. Dogs are just the best. Such love and comfort as they give, I wish returned to all of them in full measure.
I’m trying to list my grandson’s video blog on my Important Links so you can easily check it out. It’s YouTube@cursedsk1y. He’s nearly out of adolescence nownow and posting regularly since he was nine or ten, so a good place to meet him if you wish. He reviews music, games, electronic gear, and platforms; he posts music of his own composition with fine constructed images. And occasionally he speaks about his own problems, a bit of autobiography, that is. He has 770 subscribers. I particularly like his music, which has shown real growth over the years, and of course his bio material. Can you tell Gramma is proud of him?
S passed away and was celebrated then cremated March 3, 2021. Her husband and son, I, took her ashes to California and placement in the K family plot. Her boys were fifteen years old.