Thursday, February 25, 2021

Almost driver

                                                                                  True?
                         

 Billy Graham was returning to Charlotte after a speaking engagement and when his plane arrived there was a limousine there to transport him to his home. As he prepared to get into the limo, he stopped and spoke to the driver.

'You know' he said, 'I am 87 years old and I have never driven a limousine. Would you mind if I drove it for a while?'
The driver said, 'No problem. Have at it.'

Billy gets into the driver's seat and they head off down the highway. A short distance away sat a rookie State Trooper operating his first speed trap.

The long black limo went by him doing 70 in a 55 mph zone.

The trooper pulled out and easily caught the limo then got out of his patrol car to begin the procedure. The young trooper walked up to the driver's door and when the glass was rolled down, he was surprised to see who was driving.

He immediately excused himself and went back to his car and called his supervisor. 'I know we are supposed to enforce the law.... but I also know that important people are given certain courtesies. I need to know what I should do because I have stopped a very important person.'
        The supervisor asked, 'Is it the governor?'
The young trooper said, 'No, he's more important than that.'
        The supervisor said, 'Oh, so it's the president.'
The young trooper said, 'No, he's even more Important than that.'
        After a moment,the supervisor finally asked, 'Well then, who is it?'

The young trooper said, 'I think it's Jesus, because he's got Billy Graham for a chauffeur!'
Can you imagine? 
 Again, my hand is week-in to  a lengthy stretch of healing. Please leave a comment! I would appreciate seeing your name. Thanks.


Wednesday, February 24, 2021

The Big and the Small of it All

 

Gullivers travels.jpg
Gulliver's Travels original title

The 18th century was one of massive changes worldwide, where borders were moved, countries established, and discoveries in sciences abounded. In that period, social boundaries, particularly in England, also became strongly established, dividing rich from poor and poorer.
  
During such upheaval, Rev. Jonathan Swift wrote and published Gulliver's Travels, which satires existing societies, laws, royalty, parliaments, churches, and just about anything else in England.  Gulliver's Travels stirred up great outcry when it was published in England in 1726, of course, by guilty members of the governing body.

Gulliver's Travels is long, with several sections, and requires a strong attention span to retain Swift's views. His view of society effectively slashes and burns, being a master of satire, to the point where he had to write under pseudonyms.

Rev. Swift excelled at writing cleverly painted parallels, pairing Lilliput with England, each mirroring the other. His skill is comparable to that of putting a pin through two termites on an entomology display board and examining them with a magnifying glass. 

Part one is the only one with which I was familiar.  Gulliver is a normal sized Englishman, but appears to be a giant, having been washed up on the island of Lilliput, where Lilliputians are six inches high. This arrival disrupts the nation in so many ways.
  

Gulliver is amused the Emperor and his court, amazed and amused. How members of the court chosen was a source of delight for Gulliver.

One way is to watch "rope dancers" compete by jumping on silk threads. The one who jumps the highest wins, which granting him a high position of solving problems for the Emperor. 

Another is in appointing a treasurer by requiring  competitors to juggle items. Winner is one who can keep the most items juggling in the air, without any falling.


Rules and laws of Lilliput are long, its disputes longer.  But perhaps most interesting of all is a war between Lilliput and Blefuscu, which readers accurately interpreted as the King of England and King of France. One is the "big-endians" and the other "small-endians". 

The Big. E. believe that one should eat a soft-boiled egg from the big end.  The Small E. believe that one should eat the egg from the small end. 

This dispute is very serious and long lived. Thousands of people of both islands had been killed in these wars. This senseless slaughter over eggs is also a veiled comparison to Catholics to Protestants.

This book examines society down to its minutia and is written by a brilliant man. How was it received? By the Governing body or by the common man? Oh boy howdy, it created an uproar in both for different reasons, but no retributions could be made.

Sometimes I wonder what was happening in 2014 when I first wrote this. History is presented in many ways. Rev. Swift was a keen observer of the 18th century (American Revolution time, US government system, freedom of speech...)  He had to use a pseudonym much of the time.

I wonder how this would go now?

Monday, February 22, 2021

A Journey through Numbers


As the room moves when I do, my brain is left behind.  I know I want to write something thoughtful and meaningful, but those words are out dancing.

Sitting here in my husband’s new office, I am surrounded by his books.  They are for the most part lined up in a topical way.  But this row?

God Created the Integers---

The Mathematical Experience

Journey through Genius

Calculus: Early Transcendental Functions

Moby Dick

Photons & Atoms

The Twelve Caesars

Voyage to the Heart of Matter

Twelve Best Games of Chess

Acoustic Rock Guitar Bible

A View of the Universe

Paradigms Lost

Poems of Emily Dickinson

Sciencia

How Math Expands the World

The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth

The Persian Experiment

The Quantum Story

Danger of the Dragons

Killing Patton

Complex Variables

German (Language) Made Simple 

As a post requiring thought, this one is simply looking in the mind and at the bookshelves of my beloved. What have you learned about math?

Forget that! What have you learned about the titles of the books and the authors? Did you recognize any title and authors?

When we moved from old place to new place, we had to cull through John's massive collection. Fortunately his collection of books on Chemistry are a little slim.

This is a repost from 2017. My husband's library is still a royal mess.

Friday, February 19, 2021

The Falcon

 


While James appeared to be non-chalant to the point of being flippant at this sad funeral, his insides churned with the anxiety that consumed him.  No one would have ferreted out the source of his distress except Emilia, precious Emilia.

And she lay in the coffin.  Emilia.  How James had loved her.  She held the essence of beauty even now, cold in death. 

Just days before, when truth had come speeding through her understanding, Emilia had faced him.  “It was you!  You poisoned me over time, with mercury.  Why?  Why?”

James stepped out from shadowed staircase.  

”Simple, my love.  You are the only one who truly understood me.  Others labeled me ‘arrogant’, but you knew, you knew…”  

With a final gasp, Emilia crumbled to the floor. 

What was James' secret?  Why did he poison
                                            Emilia?  What.....

This is a repost from June 2014, with underlined Wednesday Words. The words come from Elephant's Child:

fates, warning, armored, saint, dynasty; wolfheart, serenity, dream, theater, voyager Go there, read what some have written, and then your own creation.


I am still disabled by a nasty surgery on my left hand.  I won't be responding to any comments, but go ahead and post something. It will make me happy. And God knows some good feelings.

Tom Conway was a film noir film star, playing detectives.  He is James.


I can't respond to comments .  I am in a world of pain.

Tuesday, February 16, 2021

Oh, arthritis, how I hate you.

 




As might appear, the carpometacarpal joint is circled by someone and seems to have some importance.  

I will be having surgery on the joint above. Like most such surgeries, this will be outpatient and not pleasant. Recovery will take forever, but is actually a few months.

My posts for the next weeks will be like this. Education worthy for sure. Stop by and have some giggles?

Comment section will be off for a while, until my digits say otherwise.


Saturday, February 13, 2021

Music is the voice of the soul.

 


It was the eye contact that made Vincent stop, stop and think. In a line of leggy blond hopefuls on Gold Sands Stage, this one young lady stood out.

Vincent called out the numbers to leave, with a mumbled "Good luck".  That left five knock-dead gorgeous young women, each one filled with hope and big dreams. Vincent took a big drag on his cigar and asked her, "Whatcha do, missy?"

Some had sung, some had danced, and some did both. Okay. Good. Not bad. Awful.  And then and there she was, this woman with bold green eyes, almost defiant.

Belinda McFadden took a deep breath. This is it...this is it. I can do this., I know this. With that, the words of "Ave Maria" filled the shabby lounge, filling it with astonishing power and purity. Vincent dropped the cigar.

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of the chair in front of him. Mother of God. Oh, sweet Mother of God... He inhaled.  For one so jaded, so filled with cynicism, Vincent was washed clean a voice unlike he had ever heard. He wept.

"Who ARE you?" he gasped.

Belinda handed him a folded and creased envelope, carried all the way from Illinois to Nevada in her bra, too afraid to lose it. Vincent  accepted it and nodded as he read the letter from 4,000 miles away, too afraid to lose it.

Vincent exhaled, nodding, as he read the letter. "I'll do it, Kid. You got it."

What did the letter say? Who was the author? Who gave Belinda the letter? Why was it so important?

                                                 Andre' Rieu w/Mariusa and Johann Strauss

                                                            

This is a repost from 2014. We should find chances to listen to music such as this. 



Tuesday, February 9, 2021

Finding Daddy

 


Marianne and Jody skipped to the table ahead of their mommy.  “We got here first!  We win, Mommy!”  Still holding hands, they climbed onto the table top and danced, their joined hands lifted up to the clear blue sky.

“Get down, girls!  Come help me with the picnic basket,” Laura Marshall groaned as she struggled with the heavy basket in one hand and the blanket in the other.  “Quickly!  I can’t carry this much farther!”

The girls jumped to the bench and then onto the grass.  “Let me get the basket…No, you carry the blanket this time…No!  You got to…” 

“Girls!  Please!”  Laura reprimanded them, setting the heavy load onto the table just as her strength gave out.  Silently, Marianne and Jody glared at each other.  Shrugging, they reached out to help Mommy unpack the sandwiches, the homemade potato salad, and apples.  

With each item, they giggled.  A picnic!  They had not come here to this park in so long, not since Daddy went away on that trip.  And, to this table, too. 

Between bites, Laura told the girls about the table, how she and their daddy had their first date at this very table.  “Your daddy sat there, Jody, and I…”  Laura paused for a moment.  “I sat over where you are, Marianne.”

“What happened next, Mommy?  What did Daddy say?”  The girls knew this story by heart, word for word.  They knew how Daddy had reached across the table and held Mommy’s hand.  They knew how she giggled.

 Laura thought for a moment, and in a distant voice continued.  “The rain began to mist through the trees, and soon it was really raining.  We ran to the car, and laughed as we got soaked.” The girls nodded, as Laura’s face took on a softness that appeared when she talked about Daddy.

When every crumb that could be eaten was gone, the blanket was placed out on the sun-warmed grass.  The girls sprawled on it, spreading their arms wide, and gazing through the tree branches. Filled with Mommy’s memories and food, they felt like they could reach out and hold their father.   

 They could see the rain, the wet table, and the dripping branches.  Daddy had been here once.  Maybe, someday Daddy would come back from Heaven and have a picnic with them.

This is a repost from 2011. Camp Pendleton is just over a hill from us. Last week we heard the bombs, saw helicopters flying overhead, as they held maneuvers.  Many wives with children can see and hear it all, and wonder if their daddy will be home soon. 


Monday, February 8, 2021

Commercials Have a Purpose.

  


Commercials can be grating and are usually important for bathroom breaks and snacks with regular snack argument. But, what if?

GEICO is crazy creative. Their clever commercials make me stop when searching for Fig Newtons and/or Twinkies with a cheap Pinot Noir.

My favorite this year I have chosen "The Aunts" for First Place. 

                                    With Second Place, Captain Ahab sails.


Third Place, with the squirrels and the spy! I love
this lady.

"The Squirrel" Third place

So, you can head out to the larder/pantry. Questions may require some thought.

Fig Newtons or Girl Scout Thin Mints?
Cold Stone or Ben & Jerry's (ice cream)?
Nachos or Frito Lay?...
So many options. So many commercials. 



Sunday, February 7, 2021

Book of Kells

 

YouTube, about 6 min. long. skip a lot

This is considered to be pivotal to Irish history in the 17th century. 

Friday, February 5, 2021

Will we ever be free from THE warranty?

 

We tend to lease cars, rather than purchase. A number of reasons, but that is just the way we roll. With the lease, comes a warranty.

BUT I swear the whole population of Nissan owners are getting the same dang phone call. 








I am not alone in this assault. It may be developing a cult following. 
 

Thursday, February 4, 2021

Muppets, we hardly knew ye.

 Disney Plus has decided that The Muppets are socially inappropriate and have to be reined in. 







Enlarge ctrl + to enlarge print




                                                

Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Flying for Romance


 Sheila was not pleased. No, not pleased at all.

     Her BFF Brenda said that flying down to Florida in October would be a real hoot, and all the gang would be hanging around.  So Sheila, Brenda, Kimberly, and all the other damsels headed down to their winter spot in Florida.  “Eddie will be there!” Brenda had said. 
          
  So they went, and hit the water at high speed, skimming over the shimmering glassy pond, trying out new maneuvers, out-spinning the other.  It had all started so perfectly.  The dragons, including Eddie, were keeping all their eyes on the damsels as they made the first pass-by.  Brenda turned to give Eddie that coy look that said so much.

            That was her mistake.  Out from the depths of the quiet waters came a wide-mouth bass, and gulped her down in one smooth motion before sinking down into the waters.  Gone, just like that.  Brenda was gone.


                                                           
            The tragedy hit them all like a strong wind, and the damsels headed to the shade of the cypress at the edge of the water.  “What happened to her?!  Didn’t she see that one coming?”  Kimberly spoke bitterly.  She was always that way, so quick to speak, to judge the other damsels.  The others hushed her, while Sheila came to terms with the loss of her friend.  Kimberly was right.  Brenda knew better, but dammit, Eddie caught her eyes, and that was all it took.


            This was to be their season, their time to connect with the dragons and leave some larvae in the quiet waters.  Brenda let that get in the way of survival, and see what happened to her.  Sheila shook out her gossamer wings, and turned to face Kimberly.  

“Brenda was a fool.  We know that.  But, we have to watch out for each other, and we forgot that.”  All the lenses in her eyes scanned the water, the trees, the sky, the grass—looking for the predators that came so quietly.  “Now, let’s get out there, and do what we do best:  feast on mosquitoes and bugs, shake the air with our wings, and be the damsels we were born to be!”

            As if one, the damsels rose into the air, and skimmed down across the swamp grass, catching insects as their laughter rang behind them.

            Some dragons angled in to catch up with them.  Eddie grew level with Sheila, “Say, uh, Sheila,” he stammered.  “Awful sorry about Brenda.  She seemed a good sort.  Uhm, would you like to go over to the willow, and check out some lower branches with me?”  Eddie’s eyes glistened with deeper meaning.

            Sheila kept her course and eyes searching around, but she devoted a few lenses to observe Eddie.  He was attractive in that bad-boy way, and she could see what made Brenda focus on him.    She gave the matter some thought, and then gave him the only answer she could, which was.......

                              This was the photo used for the photo prompt.


This was one of the first blog posts I wrote  ten years ago. That anyone read it (12 people) with 3 comments surprised me. Just one of my silly little stories!