Gee, last night Der Bingle made this remark about this little toy he sent: “Think of all the fun you and Quentin would have had . . . ” So I got to thinking about the Q and some of the escapades we had . . . and then my mind wandered to those moments when he lay napping and I touched the softness of his cheek. Good thing his eyes were not open and enhanced with magnification powers:
This was taken with a little toy Der Bingle sent to us.
It is a picture of another nose – Little Jake’s nose up real close. Nice weave, dontcha think?
Hello, there. I have noticed a theme in my thinking: cold. Usually, I am just aware of the temperature in number form and the fear it can strike in the hearts of some. Today, though, I am sitting on my warm porch, listening to the chatter from some of the PBC&R folks, and I am very much conscious of my nose being cold. I mean I can feel it cold on my nose, and when I feel it with my fingers, I definitely know it is colder than my cheeks, forehead, lips and so forth. My ears are warmer than my nose.
So why is today “nose day”? Well, I’ll be darned if I know; it’s 5 degrees and that’s sort of warm considering all our negative numbers and wind chills. And, for heavens sake, the nose is staying cold. Okay, I am stopping the typing and putting both my hands on my nose . . . now trying cuping my hands around my nose and mouth and exhaling my warm breath . . . now burying my nose in the fake sheepskin lining of my absolute favorite Pacific Beach hooded sweatshirt jacket.
It’s still cold; it must be psychosomatic. Analysis or a heating pad on it? Let me think: Was I ever scared by an pice of ice shaped like my nose? I don’t care – I’m going for pallative care – snuggling my face in warm doggie fur.
Okay, we go to bed – no snow, no prediction of incredible cold and biting wind chill. And this morning I hear the words “2-hour delay” – well, let’s forgo my usual response of “Rats” and go straight to . . . . “Damn”. Der Bingle likes to do the breakfast short order thing, so I got eggs with stips of toast to dip in the yolk and others got pancakes. Oh, and orange juice – the type with no pulp. That was a sacrifice for him – he likes it so pulpy, you have to chew it.
But he is heading back this morning and I will have to handle things by myself again. By the way, someone said there are pod-like things growing in the furnace room. It just seems like I have heard something about this sort of thing before . . .
So, you little finkies at WordPress, you have provided a new format to use for writing posts. Egads! I do not like the little print. It seems I should be able to make it bigger.
Yes, little Summer, who is now two inches taller than I, Grandpa just walked right in early this afternoon, after calling and saying not to tell anyone he was coming. Didn’t I mention I’d lit a fire and gee, don’t you think a shower would be refreshing? Like several times? Well, it’s not like a didn’t try to give you a heads up. As Sydney would say, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”
Today has been a banner day for Black & White – The Big Clock with Ray Milland and Man in the Middle with Robert Michum. However, I could only watch bits and pieces, but now I am sitting here and there are no movies from the B&W era on. Rats. I remember first seeing The Big Clock on The Afternoon Movie one summer vacation – maybe I was 16 and now I’m 60 and if I close my eyes I can smell the Indiana summer in a non air-conditioned but shaded house.
Veedersburg. I can’t remember not knowing that name. It’s in Fountain County. My father grew up in Fountain County and he is buried there. Every year my mother and I go down on Memorial Day to personally put flowers on his grave. When we are there, we usually eat lunch with my cousins – Ann, Glenda and Susie – my Aunt Mary’s daughters. My father and Mary were Grismores – Grismores from Kingman; and, actually, they were Drakes too – that was my grandmother’s maiden name. I can remember hearing people talk about children in families and categorize them as to which side they took after. I think Daddy and Aunt Mary were Drakes. But that is neither here nor there.
Last May Glenda directed us to The Bus Stop – a little restaurant in Veedersburg which is a little northwest of Kingman. Today, when I was looking for a pen, I happened upon one I must have picked up there. It says:
The Bus Stop 201 N. Main St.Maybe we’ll stop there this year, but you never know about these little places – especially in these economic times. Are you still there, Bus Stop? Well, Glenda will know . . . or maybe she’ll have another place to point out.
I don’t know what the name of this movie is . . . but I think I saw Spencer Tracy in the last scene and now here’s Ward Bond and Humphrey Bogart – they are all young. And you know what? Bogart’s not lisping as much as I remember in the later movies. Why is that? I always thought he got the distinct speech lip thing from being injured when he was serving on a ship in World War I. A lot of the cast looks familiar . . . I need to research.
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It’s Up The River, made in 1930, and the actor playing the old man who looked familiar is William Collier Sr (I don’t remember the name) who was born in 1864 and worked with George M. Cohan. And now it is 2009 and this bozo-ette is sitting in Indiana watching class actors whom a lot of people don’t remember now or have even heard of.
The temperature was about ZERO when I took Cameron to school and by that time it had started snowing. Sticking to the windshield snowing. The same when Summer went to school and our fairground run was a little to very short – because Sydney didn’t want to stay out and because fortunately I did not get stuck in snow that was deeper than I expected, especially on Log Cabin Hill leading up to Swine Barn Path.