The hand air dryer is really powerful. I feel my eyes darting back and forth as nefarious uses come to mind. It just screams TOY.

That is wrong; I feel like it is Monday morning. It feels to me as if I have a week’s worth of mind-numbing, backbreaking, dirty work ahead of me. My eyelids are heavy and the refrigerator is at a lull in making ice. That last sentence doesn’t reflect an organized mind, so it is an informative one. You don’t have to read between the lines – reading between the letters will do.

I want a magic wand. Oh, I mean: I want a Magic Wand . . .  A MAGIC WAND. One with power.

Well, wait a minute here; I think I just stumbled on a psychological trick . . . the thing about power. Yes. I could become the Magic Wand of Dictatorial Power. Okay, so I slipped an extra word in there.

I must plot plan.

Der Bingle brought me an apron that seems to fit my personality – and warns people off who might complain because of my total lack of cooking skills.

Just thought I’d check in and let anyone know the Yankee Candle is still burning at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse – along with an oil lamp because we like the ambiance.

Looked like the predicted thunderstorms were coming so I decided to mow until it rained. HA on me. It didn’t. Not one drop. I bounced around on two different tractors for four hours plus, which is better than pushing.

Finishing up, I was covered in dust and grime. I’m clean now and drinking peach mango iced tea.

Oh, for goodness sake, I’ve got the hiccups . . .

When my husband’s niece died on April 25th of this year, he drove out to be with his brother and family. I wrote about it here. She’s the little girl in the chair right over there to your left, but you probably knew that.

Well, when Der Bingle stopped here on his way back to work at Wright-Patt Air Force Base, he opened his bag and handed me some copies from her memorial service. And I set them aside on a table in the corner of the living room. I guess we were talking at the time and I just assumed I’d look more closely at them later. But I didn’t; I just kept walking by them and noticing them, yet not picking one up.

Today I was feeling at my wit’s end – not just a usual blip on the screen, but profoundly so.  I walked aimlessly into the living room and my hand brushed on something that connected with something else which tipped another thing a certain way . . . and the paper with Jody’s picture on it fluttered to the floor.

It landed so that the back side was facing me and when I picked it up and brought it in focus, I saw what I had missed some weeks ago – a tribute to her from her little brother, Joe. He’s not little anymore, though; he’s this Air Force guy now.

This is what I read:
(click on image to enlarge)

At first I thought, “Drat, I would have included this in the posts about her life and her passing.” I think, however, that it worked out better this way – his dad’s remembrance was paramount then, a focusing lens on a life that was. And it was powerful, a lighthouse carrying a message from heart to heart.

Joe’s words echo back to what his dad wrote, reminding us of those words and putting emphasis on the family aspect.

Then I looked inside and read what was under her picture:

And I felt no longer at wit’s end, but comforted and encouraged . . . and, yes, looking forward to going on.

So that’s today’s story, one that came free like the kiss of a breeze.

Since I have been able to read more with the Kindle for Mac application, I have rediscovered another benefit – the domino effect of being reminded of subjects. Connections. A mention of Keats in a paragraph of a book about spies and that afternoon I find myself revisiting his work on the internet . . . and that leads me to other poets. A reference to history and “well, I’ll just look that up.” And on and on . . .

Shoot, it really makes me wish I were years younger so I would have more time to tour more topics. Heck, it makes me think I should take better care of myself so I can not cheat myself out of the rest of my journey. And it is a journey; I had forgotten that in days of piecemeal activities that lulled me into just going around a turnstile.

It seems that the Gnome Dome fella must have been exposed to a little bit of Dandelion gene therapy:

Well, here’s the official LINK to this article shown below:

Well, this is a great note – I thought I had posted pictures of my Spam shirt and hat, courtesy of LZP, but, no, I can’t find them. Sigh. I guess they are somewhere in iphoto or at KodakGallery. Bummer.

Oh, my gosh . . . look at that sun-kissed gnome. But then look at the curls at the bottom of that white beard.

I can remember when Shirley Temple curls covered the upper part, oh, many moons ago. Of course, back then, Der Bingle had blond curls that just determinedly fought an Air Force haircut – little wings would sprout from the sides of his head.

Ah, but LZP, we love you.

I just typed that “hello” up there without thinking. I should have thought because the image that popped into my head right afterward was that of the bag lady character in Housesitter with Steve Martin and Goldy Hawn. Martin first sees her digging in a trashcan outside a restaurant in New York; she looks up and sings out a “hellloooo.” Then, when his pretend wife, played by Goldy Hawn, needs parents she recruits this woman for her mother. Martin can’t place her until he sees her outside his house in party dress in his trashcan. She looks up, sings “helllooo” and he, as only Steve Martin can, responds with a drawn out “Oh  . . . . My  . . . .  God.”

I believe I should have just deleted the “hello” title, rather than delve into that paragraph of explanation, but, hey, you know me.

I took a couple of people to Fort Wayne yesterday for appointments and today I am doing the same. So it’s a deja vu day. Today, though, the appointments are long ones so I am going to charge up the macbook and read while waiting. It’s supposed to be fairly cool, so I will probably sit in the backseat with my feet propped up and when anyone goes by the window, I will smile and say, “Hellllloooooo.”