New bones to pick
Relics to rattle.
Constructs and constructed. Noun and verb. ©
And for what?
Gain or loss.
Reeling thought less common than pop mental floss.
In the long run, a fool’s hope
That permanent means just that.
Today is today. Now is.
Wait, that’s already fled.
Wave after wave. Endlessly timed.
An archeologist peers in marveling, “Ah, new bones to pick.”
A civilized shell game: orderly, predictable, useful, artful. Now only featured leftovers in a museum.©
It’s says,”To continue, put another quarter in.”
Knowing the game.
And the appropriate outfit.
Critical in this age of Selfies and Tweets
Hope everyone remembered to save the instruction manual for this new year.
Last year’s must have gotten tossed out with the packaging and leftovers.
Winning coaches say the playbook makes all the difference.
A new year with new hopes to jump to. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Hmmm, somewhere on page 2 …middle of the page, I recall…
- Treat others as you wish to be treated, but stand up for yourself.
- Agree to disagree and still be friends.
A little farther back, page 5?
- Make sure brain is in gear before mouth is in motion.
- Mind your own business and don’t be a tattle tale.
- If you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all. Oh, actually that was on page 1, I think.
Wish I could find that darn manual – even if it’s crumpled or stained with coffee grounds. Parts of it’s bound to still be good. Why people toss things out without thinking…
I always was inspired by the Introduction page. “Little minds discuss people. Great minds discuss ideas.”
Yep. Liked that.
Or I could be confusing it with the old “All I needed to know about life, I learned in kindergarten.”
In any case, naps. Naps are the answer for so much.
Especially if there’s a lot of gutter balls being thrown while learning the moves.
No need to get discouraged or hurt.
Careful of the frogs you kiss. Game’s on.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
“Look Frog, you may have bowled me over last night with your leaps of fancy, but now that I’m sober, no way I’m kissing up to you and playing your games.” (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
“Don’t mess with the chicken.” Billina, Chicken of Oz. (Koehne/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Ask the darn chickens about it. (They are known for sittin’ on stuff, you know.)
Both hawks and doves like to feather their own nests by bribing feeding their chosen flock leader. It’s for the chicks! Oh, OK. Some may not see it as a way into the hen house and might actually be concerned about saving the children and all.
Wouldn’t it just be ducky if for every penny a political donor fed to a candidate’s campaign, the same amount had to be donated to something real with long-term benefits?
How about for medical research at St Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital or the Shriners Hospitals‘ Children’s Burn/treatment centers or any U.S. children’s hospital with successful research groups with established track records?
Saving the children and all.
Now that might hatch real hope and change.
“Look, hope may float, but… Don’t matter if that’s chicken or turkey. Ain’t gonna fly. Too much wait.”(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Something to crow about.
Afterall, 2017 is a Yin year of the Fire Rooster.
As opposed to the Wood Rooster, Earth Rooster, Gold Rooster, and Water Rooster
Oddly, it won’t be a lucky year for those born Roosters. (Find out if that’s you here.)
Scratching the surface, it seems like chickens are in the know.
It would be nice to know why though.
That in the same carton of eggs from the exact same farm with the identical variety of hens who had the identical lifestyle and food sources, that one egg will have a sturdy tough shell and the next will be delicate, thin shelled – easily cracked and lost.
Funny that’s a lot like people, too.
Gotta cluckle over that grain of thought
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
“I don’t know which is more discouraging, literature or chickens.” E.B. White, author
“Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched” Aesop, 570 B.C.
Some days chickens; some days feathers. (Phrase as old as hen’s teeth)
Fly high, wise, and free in the New Year
Ice coated the windows. Inside.
When electric blankets were invented, we Littles knew there was a God.
Of course sleeping under piles – mounds – absolute pyramids – of old heavy cotton batted quilts would have been good practice to withstand interrogations if ever involved in witch trials. Pallets of rocks couldn’t have been heavier.
Those Victorians. Nothing toady about them.(PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Christmas meant gathering at Brushy Creek.
There was a stove in the kitchen, a fireplace in the front room with the light bulb, and a card table with bored games.
When older, we’d shiver outside on the porch trying to tune in rock and roll from the big Chicago radio station.
But mostly there was radio – and normal life – silenced.
With stars.
In a deep velvet sky.
Not us. I’m sure mother had dreams of Christmas like this. But no. Hickville. (PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Walking in the dark doesn’t bother me still.
I’ll use the dog for an excuse and do some of that these holidays, even though light pollution dims the heavens.
If only the wind would blow the scent of hay this way. It would be almost there again.
And then it would be Christmas.
Christmas is hard without a barn. Cattle lowing and all.
However, running water, central heat and microwaves, does make up for a lot of it.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a peaceful starlight.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Jingling on out of here until next week except for catching up on some blog reading
A few holiday offerings to amuse until then:
- There’s a Great Pyramid in Texas – one constructed by a German guy named Emil, 1870. A German Christmas tradition created for his small town that is now considered “one of the finest pieces of folk art ever made in the Lone Star State.” Settlers brought a little bit of their homeland with them to Texas for comfort. Now we stand with the German people at this difficult time offering what comfort we can.
- “Christmas Pining: a matter of difference” It was a mixed marriage. They choreographed life…until it was Christmas….
- “Fa LA LA LA LA: thought, time, and paste” Now that’s Christmas well dressed. Just don’t tear through it…
- “Mistletoe and 22 shells. A Christmas job?” Would Santa come through?
- “Christmas is piggy greedy” Well, it is you know….
We never had pigs or we probably would have attempted this – with wheels instead of snow. I heard stories that Mom nixed pigs after one episode of dressing out a hog on the back porch one January weekend. Once was enough for that city girl. (PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Hitchhiker deterrent?©
While the concept might have sounded great late at night, it could have been the beer.
Unusual pairing of phrase and image.
What’s the real message? You decide.
Is that Moe, Larry and Curly? (Maybe updated images to appeal to a tougher market?)
Is the driver taking sides in Game of Thrones? (Winter is coming. Can White Walkers be far behind?)
Possibly a “what do you get the avid trucker who has everything” gift. (Won’t end up on a garage sale table. That’s for sure.)
You do think there’s a human driver in there and it’s not an Uber headless car trial? (Maybe we’ll just give that one plenty of room and slide off the next exit…)
Another mystery on a roll.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Going to have a blue Christmas without you…©
Outages. Fear of the Dark. And then there was lights.©
Travelers, the homesick, and the bright ones are hurriedly wrapping things up.
Hazardous to mirth and girth.
Holidays begin with a ribbon of thoughts taped together. Follow the threads?
It works for traveling to school functions, and for arriving relatives, too.
If you are following the Uber commercials.
Convenience, friendly smiles, and a chance to arrive calm, collected, and in style.
With their increased popularity the company has found it necessary to clarify.
Uber’s new tag line: “We’re a car service, not a stud service”
All in the packaging.
Don’t box them in. They are for outdoor use. (Not recommended for swamps.)©
Was it the barrage of holiday movies? He must have wanted to be home for Christmas.
A Galveston county convict, a minor bad guy with little time left to serve, made like Dasher and Prancer and slipped out as the gate was closing. (How that happened here)
It was a Christmas miracle or just luck that there was a company truck parked across the street with the keys in it. It’s a sign, dude: “Don’t box him in.”
A short night at girl friend’s house, then dashing away towards Ft Worth/Dallas.
Just as reindeer want hay, that truck demanded a stop halfway. On the Buc-ee’s security cams, the guy looked a bit nervous. Made worse by bumping into a deputy.
Employees said the guy ran out the back and into some fields which lead to heavily wooded river bottom land – as in swamps overflowing from weeks of rain.
Will the record-breaking size gators think Santa dropped by early?
That poor guy’s probably thinking, while there’s no place like home, a sleigh ride to anywhere dry, warm, and safe would be a real gift.
Turning on a lighter side:
Shades of Christmas future: We’d have a blue, blue Christmas without you.©
All aglow when it was discovered.
Our old ( but still good) 50’s big bulb Christmas light strings are no longer outdated and passé. Ancient enough to be reclassified as classic, vintage, or novelty lights. Trendy must be next.
There’s something “A (“You’ll shoot out your eye”) Christmas Story” or “It’s A Wonderful Life” about their warm glow in the snowy cold foggy, drizzling December nights compared to the bold glare of the intense LEDs.
Do not lecture me on electricity usage. Not with the popularity of “The Great Christmas Light Fight” as seen on TV and along streets.
Besides we ration them: only two multicolored strings are cheering the place this year.
We scrounge attics and dusty boxes in garages as elderly family members’ home are sold. Looking for strings with good wiring and the real treasure: working light bulbs.
This year a real Christmas miracle: box loads of replacement bulbs readily available online.
Better than two front teeth. (For the youngsters, that’s an old novelty Christmas song, not a Christmas request.)
It’s gonna happen. I’ll simply hang these lights in a big lump from a tree limb. Call it art. A contemporary sculpture and commentary titled “The most of Christmas past.” How could the HOA possibly complain? Artful.
So the season is out of the box.
Hope yours is merrily jingling on without delight burning out.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
A couple of related lighting posts: “Crushed by Christmas Views” and “Boxed in. Strung Out” There are more. One about rabbits. Beware….
Consider these safely adopted in a forever home. They just glow with warmth!©
Yes, cats do wheelies. Spin on a dime. Normally the wheels are invisible. Stop motion photography allows the lesser species to view. Count yourselves lucky.©
We do not feel it is necessary.
Our nightly journey to the memory foam Plateau of Repose should not be disturbed by a large, oaf footed malamute.
Even if she smiles admiringly. (She’s been taking lessons? Christmas worries, for good reason.)
Any attempt to escort without permission is completely inappropriate.
We, the old well seasoned Regent of the Realm should not be expected raise The Paw at this attempt of “longing to be close to you“? Pish. We find the song annoying also.
Obviously an attempt by The Molly to impress Santa.
We do not wish either to feel her hot breath on Our tail – even if We show disdain by facing the other direction, We know the rude creature is there.
It is not funny. It is not cute.
Well, of course Our tail is cute, but you Dunderhead, we were discussing the liberties being taken by the dog.
In addition, We strongly protest the incidents of The Molly trying to cuddle into Our good graces along side Us on the Grand Plateau.
1.She blocks the moving air from the fan.
2. She has such girth that We tend to roll downhill towards her. Most disturbing. That’s when We seem to have unsettling dreams of falls of the Grand Canyon…and not the watery falls.
3.An equally comfortable sleeping pod has been provided for her directly under Our nocturnal loft. So we can keep an eye on her and lean down to give her a whack if necessary.
We are not so ancient that Staff is required to escort Us to Our spot and We resent any bumbling arm efforts to Uber Us. Let those scratches be a lesson in protocol and etiquette…
We are not kidding. Does it look like We are kidding? No.©
The formal retiring promenade down the hall shall commence each evening once Staff and The Molly are respectfully in their assigned spots.
The ground shakes wood floors shall echo from Our mighty stomp march. And by then We’ve usually had a soothing session with Our mousies and are feeling pretty good
Now that this matter is cleared up, that is all.
Resume your daily duties
Audience completed.
And don’t forget to leave an open can of food in the doorway as tribute
Santa is watching. Too.
I am RC Cat and I approve this message.
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.
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.
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It was meant as a kindness. A helping out.
None of us thought so. It was only to be endured. Not questioned.
Off the wall. Not a bowl full of cherries. ©
Brother, being older which worked as being smarter, would grab toast and rush off – to somewhere – to practice for something – ANYTHING.
Leaving only the littles. Who politely smiled, nodded, and suffered.
Meals were normally prepared by working mom as she got home first. But on weekends and holidays, dad took to the stove for breakfasts.
Ruffle-dee eggs was his signature dish.
Dump a bunch of bacon grease in a big cast iron skillet. Be sure to turn up the heat much too high. Get some exercise leaping and hopping to avoid, and, then, grimace when the snappy, popping grease attacks. It’s like whack-a-grease-mole once the eggs are in. Dance among the sizzle until the fried eggs are fried, really fried.
You’ll recognize when the eggs are at their zenith: Crisp dark brown edges ruffled as much as a can-can dancer’s petticoats trimming the white part glowing with an oil slick of transparent color.
Tasting a bit like greasy crispy onionskin paper.
Like you know what that is… Think paper in the bottom of the box of warm fresh donuts.
Oh, we dreamed of warm, fresh, donut breakfasts. Never happened.
And none of those sugary breakfast cereals either. Not healthy.
Empty calories.
It’s a wonder we didn’t starve to death.
Deprived childhood.
I think we lived on laughter.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Ringing in the ears. (If they play the Jackson Five’s Santa Claus is Coming to Town one more time…)
Hunting items with just enough blend of tradition and trendy to make a reindeer’s head spin.
I’d say here’s a gift for those in touch with nature, but wildlife might beg to forgo their unwanted attention:
Nothing says “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” like camo wedding rings.
They can be personalized. Like maybe “From a buck to his doe”? Shoot, all sorts of possibilities.
And the bride wore boots and a holster on her hip hip. (Bradford Exchange advertisement image. Parade Magazine)
Look, reinventing the wheel is difficult, but some are trying to turn things around.
“Startup is literally trying to reinvent the wheel” (Video)
An Israeli startup is redesigning the wheel by changing suspension arms to create SoftWheels.
“Our vision is to put a dent in the universe by developing the most energy-efficient and energy-absorbing wheel system in the world. Our mission is to craft a smart wheel that helps people create a smarter planet.”
Already used in bikes and wheelchairs, could cars be next?
Some bright stars out there. Real show stoppers.
Which stage name for this Supermoon on the December marquee: Cold Moon or Long Nights Moon? (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
While many will be glad to see 2016 over and done, hang in there for the final episode of the Supermoon Trifecta on Tuesday, Dec 13th.
December’s Supermoon is such a party crasher: taking the sky stage on the same night as the peak of the Geminid meteor shower.
While meteor watchers are gnashing their teeth at the possibility of not seeing more than a dozen Geminids per hour, the combination performance is quite an unusual spectacle.
Dec 13th is the only night that the moon will bother to grace the sky the entire night from sunset to sunrise.
It’s only around for a few moments in the night sky the rest of the month – and the rest of this year.
But there is no truth to the rumour that the moon is moonlighting elsewhere.
Might be just ducking out like many others until the frantic holidays are over. Waiting to ring in the new year.
So glow on. Enjoy the presence.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Many fly. A few soar far above the rest. RIP John Glenn. Legend. Last man to walk on the moon. Your life was more than dreams and fairy tales. (USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
World in difference.©
All in the attitude. The interpretation.
Hair rising on back of neck – with desperate glances over the shoulder.
Or gratefully wrapping in it like a lush sable stole on a frigid night.
Depends as in the personal care aisle or depends on the cloaking while slipping away unnoticed.
Darkness a dangerous masking or welcomed cohort.
As with most things, all in the perspective. That the result of past encounters.
When actually dark is nothing – and everything.
Totally oblivious any encounter or its’ own power.
It is. That’s enough.
Bring your own baggage. It trains on without picking up on that.
Strangers passing in the night.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
First they came for the dragons…”Must we turn him in? How much pollution can one small, fire-breathing dragon cause?” (PD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Finally the big reveal: What caused the dinosaurs to disappear.
If only their tiny pea-sized brains had realized….
If only ultra strength Beano had been invented earlier…
If only…
Not such a bloated idea.
If California dairy cows’ farts are damaging the climate, then imagine what a bunch of gassy dinosaurs could do.
No wonder there was loss of available food sources and an ice age.
Simple logic.
If A (dinosaurs were plant eaters that passed gas)= B (cows are plant eaters that pass gas)
And B (cows fart methane gas created by their digestion process) causes C (global warming/climate changed by methane gas);
Therefore A also causes C. Right?
Obvious conclusion: Dinosaurs gassed themselves. (The stupid creatures)
Now people have larger brains (yet can be stupid creatures).
We tell cows what’s good for them:
“California targets dairy cows to combat global warming”
Tiny things can have big impact.
As the Dalai Lama says, “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”
Despite the seedy environment, answers blowing in the wind©
The mosquito challenge isn’t tiny.
- Effects of Zika on babies may not show up until months after birth (NY Times)
- First locally acquired Zika case in Texas. (Valley Morning Star/Brownsville/Cameron County)
- “A new mosquito-borne virus detected in Haiti” (Miami Herald)
Win-lose situation for one or the other.
Spraying poison not only can affect humans and others in the food chain, it spooks the tourists and celebrities, so it’s bad for local economies.
Using genetically modified, undercover mosquito double agents could upset the natural order. They might even buzz off and become turncoats.
So humans can all just get sick and die off. That should really save the environment and the climate.
Bugged and getting carried away. Could become a common situation.(USPD/Commons.wikimedia.org)
Has Mother Nature finally sent in her assassins to get rid of those messing up her place?
Tiny things the downfall of mankind.
Well, something pea-size killed off the dinosaurs.
Logic out the window
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
Additional buzz kills?
- “Can you repel mosquitoes with an app?“(The Independent)
- Shazam for Mosquitoes Phone App from Stanford (Tech Times)
- “Laser induced mortality of Anopheles stephensi mosquitoes (Nature.com Scientific Reports)
- New approaches: Wolbachia, a naturally occurring bacteria, may help fight Zika (Miami Herald) or Wolbachia bacteria promises fewer chemicals used (serious research from Entomology Today)
Everything has its’ season. Nothing to sneeze at.©
Twilight. The path curved hiding what waited just beyond. ©
Too stunned to scream? Or desperately hoping to wake up from the nightmare.
Four or five of them already had her. Treating her more roughly than the sidewalk under her back.
Several more were slinking out of shadowy cracks. Ready to join in.
She writhed. Knowing there was little time.
Struggled to break away.
Trying to crawl off like a fatally injured animal.
No time to acknowledge the pain.
Don’t know if she saw me. Knew I was there.
Never saw her eyes. She was completely focused on her tormentors.
Fighting to survive.
Growing weaker from the effort.
Quick resolution: one swoop with a large sturdy leaf to launch her safely into the wet grass.
Earthworms have a hard time if they decide to warm themselves in the sun on a sidewalk near some ants.
Saving Grace. No cliché.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” (Dalai Lama XIV)
“The creatures that inhabit this earth–be they human beings or animals–are here to contribute, each in its own particular way, to the beauty and prosperity of the world.” Dalai Lama XIV)
“The Chinese government wants me to say that for many centuries Tibet has been part of China. Even if I make that statement, many people would just laugh. And my statement will not change past history. History is history.” (Dalai Lama XIV)
For some reason, this little tree just looked really happy. Maybe it thinks it’s being silly-naughty waving around and tossing off its’ leaves? In any case, tree’s free. Shouldn’t Tibet be? ©
Red fish. Blue fish.
Say “Merry Christmas” with an inflatable fish.
Fish may be a Christian symbol, but don’t really think Disney’s Dory actually floats that.
Hey, don’t flounder around and judge. Energy-efficient and won’t stinking pollute. Can Santa’s reindeer say that?©
Although popular cool turned into fool at one ice skating rink recently.
Fishy marketing gone very bad. (By artsy types who see things differently?)
“5,000 Fish in Ice at Japan skating Rink Sparks Uproar.” (Bloomberg)
“Japan skating rink shuts over frozen fish controversy” (BBC)
The fish are going to have a memorial service once removed.
After the rink owners find something else to spell out “hello” with under the ice.
Another potential stinky situation is the Spa-musement Park concept.
Started out as a little attention grab for a Japanese hot springs area, but the video went viral.
Guests wandering around in soggy towels. (Meanwhile health clubs here warn people to wipe down exercise equipment before and after using…)
So, nope. No interest at all in sitting in a roller coaster car full of water for a scary ride. Assorted unidentified floating objects after big drops. Is that spa water or does it feel suspiciously very very warm suddenly in this spot….?
Not to mention that alarmist the old wives tale about keeping electricity away from water and wet areas…
“Confirms construction of a bizarre ‘spa-musement’ park” (Daily Mail)
Colorado, hi. Snow go mo’, please. No flaking out.©
You really can can make a real splash this Christmas with works by a Denver craftsman.
Started as a romantic whim – a present for a 10th wedding anniversary. (That’s tin, you know.) Made in the garage.
Now a business with a fabulously elegant line of bracelets, earrings, and more recycled from tin cans. Upcycling with style.
A cut above the normal Christmas commercialism.
Real Christmas spirit all year round: for every item purchased, one can good is donated to charity….along with the idea that we can all do good – locally.
No puffed up materialistic Christmas message. Actions do speak merrily.
Speaking of Christmas, nothing says Christmas like Santa riding a giant elephant.
Dumbos trumpeting in Christmas: bigger, wilder, louder. (No, it is not outside the New Dehli…yet. It’s early in the seasoning.)©
You know that Rehab song “No, No, No” by Amy Winehouse?
Can someone update that to address the December inflatable puffalumps? Would be appreciated. Yes. Yes. Yes. A start…maybe you can do mo’, mo’ mo’….
They tried to make me go get Christmas inflatables
I said, no, no, no….
“Celebration inflation: We’re partying harder than ever and companies love it.” (Bloomberg)
Like with all fads, this too shall pass….especially if these winds keep up.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Like contests with prizes? One here. Storm over there.
May The Force to resist overblown holidays be with you.(homedepot.com)
Such promise. An early Christmas present?..oh, that should probably be Chanukah gelt. Details. Details.©
You need one. Better get it soon. December is just the beginning. So mark it like a cat.
A place for when you are too exhausted to hold your head up or when feeling like it’s not just your three-days-of-misery-and-then-it’s-over cold. One where the heavy door swings open as warmth rushes out to bathe your face – and the rest of you knows it will all be all right, too.
Shelter against any storm. Haven tried and true.
After wandering in the local wilderness full of restaurants, we thought one had been granted.
Who knew about that new? (Oy vey)
Unbelievable good fortune with a new deli opening. (B’ezrat HaShem)
Said to be the new second location of our favorite Victor’s Deli far away.
That one was like eating in a Jewish grandmother’s kitchen: old and young – even pajamas and fuzzy slippers welcomed.
The owners were like their booths: well-worn, but supportive.
Our first visit to the new deli left us underwhelmed.
Same name, same sign fonts, same colors, same interiors, same menu – but quantity, quality, and service?
Meh.
We won’t talk about the pickle.
Last week we noticed the new deli’s sign had changed.
Clarification for the neighborhood.
Still sporting the black and white checkerboard. Oh, the shattered dreams of towering Reuben sandwiches, overflowing plate lunches, just made meatloaf, and healing chicken soup with matzo balls.©
We didn’t realize. It’s New Delhi.
Clears that up.
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge
New sign for the new deli. Entirely different set of expectations. (But truth in advertising: this establishment hasn’t been there since 1988 and this version is not identical to the original Victor’s deli which actually came over from Beaumont in 1988…checkerboard and all.)©
Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge 