I was going to write about this earlier, but I forgot. Then just now I remembered.

Last week Der Bingle remarked that he had heard an old Roger Miller song on the radio. And he mentioned the title. What I heard was not quite right since I have apparently entered that phase of life when “time” sounds like “dime” to some folks, momentarily turning someone asking, “Got the time?” into a panhandler.

I did not hear “You can’t Rollerskate in a Buffalo Herd”; I heard “You can’t rope sheep in a buffalo herd.” Frankly, I think it’s a better title – enigmatic and all that. And even though I downloaded it from itunes, I have attuned myself to hear rope sheep. I like it that way. How about ewe? ACK!!! Newfie made me say that.

Someone in our family is taking a summer class that involves reading and grammar and vocab. That reading includes poetry and literature. So, every now and then, Someone walks up, plops down beside me and says, “Grandma . . . ” She gets me started on one certain poem and then leaves and I go from poem to poem to poem because she has poked a spot in my brain that likes the sound of thoughts.

Time passes quickly when this happens and now I must make up a couple of hours of work:

I must strive to shut down this computer;

I must seek the vacuum;

I must find the vacuum and the vacuum bags;

And I must not yield to the temptation to blow it off.

***

Indeed, I must suck it up.