Rain and snakes on TV

Today the driveway has been wet all day, but despite that and storm warnings, I have not seen it actually rain. Storms though are predicted tonight. Maybe, maybe not. We watched a series about people who keep dangerous animals. I know it’s not an uplifting topic, but you get sucked in. One lady was bitten by a rattlesnake while jogging; she was not at all interested in snakes until then. But for some reason beyond my understanding, the hospitalization and pain and only triggered a fascination with snakes – venomous ones. She gets a job in a a snake lab where they milk snakes for the venom for medicine. Nothing happens, she goes home and is bitten by a coral snake while gardening. More pain, a lot more pain. But, no problem, she goes back to work. After some time, another snake bites her through a screen on top of the cage and she has a terrible reaction. Then she starts her own venom collection lab. The show didn’t mention that she sued the man who owned the lab where she had been bitten; even though he had been her boyfriend. I looked her up and so far, she’s still alive.

I won’t talk about the lady who committed suicide by snake, and her name was not Cleopatra.

Now, I hope I don’t have nightmares. I did have a dream a few nights ago when I expressed my opinions and everyone agreed with me. Ron said that must have been when I realized I was dreaming. HA. Yes, very funny, Der Bingle.

I can’t figure out the comments; they used to function. I think sometimes I am informed by email that there is a comment and sometimes not. Sort of like the times – uncertain.

Comment test

No, not an evaluation of the comments I make here in each and every post, but if the darn comments left beneath the post are getting published. Sometimes I miss the days when we would just give something that wasn’t working a good whack.

Hello, this is AmeliaJake

Hi there,

I’m been here a couple of times in the last few days, peeked in, sat and had a drink or two and then slipped on out. No one really knew I was here; it was restful.

It has been restful again today. I had intended to write some stuff, say something, as it were, but then something distracted me and I wound up going from one thought to another and then I dozed. So I’m going to continue doing that and assuming a true snuggle position with my cow blanket and my fluffy d

I once had a teacher who when he fell asleep as a student was awakened to hear his professor refer to the arms of Morpheus. He told the class that one day; I imagine he told countless classes that over the years. He was pretty much fresh out of college when he taught us English literature. HA, what a laugh on us. We put him in the teacher category and he was not much more than a kid himself.See, that’s how your mind can hop from one thing to another.

I’ve never forgotten Morpheus. Too bad I didn’t have a story about everything I should have remembered to be educated. He didn’t like Sara Teasdale either. Ah, ST: ”“It is strange how often a heart must be broken
Before the years can make it wise.” ”

I should be back tomorrow.

Horrible day, horrible mood

This has been a horrible day and it is not anywhere near being over. I didn’t break my leg or arm and nothing fell off the house or the car. However, everything seems broken, from my spirit to my nerve to my ability to keep myself from kicking the wall. It is as if I have my own private Santa Ana winds driving me, let’s not use the polite word “crazy” when nuts will do. Batshit nuts.

I can’t stand it when people post something about something being bad then don’t spell it out. Like if you’re going to mention it, then for God’s sake spit it out. I would if I could. Oh, it’s not that I’m keeping facts secret; it’s just that I am really angry with just about everything. If it were 1870 and I I had a horse, I’d saddle it up and ride west. Just go. And it is all my mood.

There’s not much detail to be said about mood, but one question comes to me. Why do people preach tolerance and forgiveness and all sorts of goodness and then when someone needs to let off steam, a therapist or coach or whoever will paste a picture of someone to a punching bag and say, “Punch away.”

And, by the way, I have never put Joe Biden’s face on a punching bag; I can’t remember if I made a paper voodoo doll, though.

Not knowing the end

I remember my mother recalling going into the gymnasium on December 8, 1941 to listen to FDR broadcast that the United States was at war. Of course, when she mentioned it, I knew the obvious: the Allies won. We won. But for the parents of sons of her generation, it must have been a time of intense and immediate dread. Boys were going to die and no one could say they would be “other boys”. There were hundreds of other unknown outcomes and unawareness as to what the war years would entail. Everyone had to live it day by day.

When Chernobyl occurred, it took some time for the world to become aware of what had happened. In fact, it took a very long time for some of the dire possibilities of what might have continued to happen to even be acknowledged.

Now we have social media, as well as 24 hour news programs, discussions, opinions, analysis are a dime a dozen. I’m fairly certain the economy will take some hits; it has happened before. The generations after WWII have had it easy and have taken things for granted.

Now, we wait and see. And if one were to know he was to be killed in two days from a brain aneurysm, would it be better to fret or just do what everyone always says to do in good times – live the moments.

I had things going on . . .

I didn’t mean to stay away from this place and, actually, I have been here, eating peanut butter and watching the flat screen TV we had mounted. Some might think it does not fit the ambiance of a screen door place. The kind of screen door on the spiral spring that results in a “bang” when someone goes in or out.

I’ve actually ventured behind the counter and tried out the air fryer for making doughnuts using Grand rolls – the come that come in the cardboard tube on the refrigerated shelves. What I found to be enjoyable was sitting there with the machine, a bowl of melted butter, a bowl with sugar and cinnamon . . . and

Well, crap, my post was half-eaten and I don’t feel like doing it over again.

Maybe because I’m 71 and read “The grim reality is that, for the elderly, Covid-19 is almost a perfect killing machine,” American Health Care Association President Mark Parkinson told CNN this week. on the Internet. So this virus is older people’s on land shark?

Me and Daylight Savings Time

What is this AmeliaJake/DST thing – not to be confused with Joe Biden’s “thing” with the Declaration of Independence – but it kicks my butt in the spring. I don’t use that last phrase too often, it must have suggested itself when I mentioned JB.

Oh, well, after someone remarked about the automatic time update on all our devices, I went all day yesterday and today with the microwave and oven on standard time. Didn’t even notice it.

Now, it is a quarter of ten at night! Do you believe that? It got truly dark about an hour ago. I feel bad about complaining after having watched a show about Chosin in Korea and how cold it was all the hardships, but the complaining, whining gene is so strong, it just comes out.

I know someone who is at The Lone Cabbage Fishing Camp. I think I should have had a job thinking up names for places; I obviously missed my calling.