Started day with ominousodometer; that has changed thanks to the power of transmission. Three flying geese. [Artistic license.] Two shoes, black soft soled along Museum road. Windy satiety. WaWa for fuel. What was green has turned purple. Roses and daisies and arrangements delivered. It would be nice to spend a while in Riverfront’s living room. What a fabulous discovery. R. Messina ’88. Are you there? Maxed out on a coff(r)ee at A+Plus Kenhorst: went well with zebra cake I baked this morning at 7. Want to send out an APB for Man Crafts book that is believed returned to library. Upside down sea jelly pretty cool. Flying saucer!
Please allow me to express mu undying enthusiasm for the darling book called “TYPEWRITER” subtitled: the history * the machine * the writers!
Tony Allan and the Shelter Harbor Press have assembled, written, compiled and printed a masterful, informative and pictorially engaging work. It shows both scholarly research and a playful mind on the part of the author. Thank you for creating this book!
The particular book I read was courtesy of the Main library in Reading, Pennsylvania. A book-plate added to the front inside cover pages have added this book is in memory of Jan L. Deelman and “was purchased with funds donated from his estate.”
The book contains a page devoted to the parts of a typewriter, a diagram as nice as some illustrations of the points of a horse that I’ve seen. Only a typewriter has no soft velvety muzzle, although you can write about one with it.
Was especially delighted to learn about holding a Type In. It would be a riot to plan and host one here in Reading. Hold me to it!
Dear Queen Elizabeth,
Revered ruler of Great Britain. Please add the name of book cover designer Oliver Munday (The Underground Railroad) to your list of persons to consider for knighthood.
I hope you enjoy good health today.
An American in Reading
The A.A.C.T. committee (Amazon Associates and Community working together) awarded the writer of this blog two tickets for the Lehigh Valley IronPigs game Wednesday. The Toledo Mud Hens were the visiting team for Ladies Night. Melissa, daughter of dear friend Adrienne Hubble, went along on the fly. Melissa, who works in security, proved to be an excellent navigator and interesting conversationalist.
Coca-Cola stadium is a dream! Coca-cola stadium is kept clean! We parked for free, thanks to Philly Pretzel. We walked to the gate, where we were welcomed handsomely!
We – and nearly every other guest – passed several tables set up in the mezzanine or concourse: one for Amazon (fancy that!), one for Cedar Crest, and one for 2015 Ladies Night presenters Lehigh Valley Sporting Clays. This caught my eye because former sister-in-law Andrea Seefeldt shoots clay.
Melissa was thirsty for the beer garden and she knew the way. Our servers – the Ladies of Cap and Tap – were dressed in delightful German costume. The writer of this blog soon discovered the difference between and IPA and an IPO when she order a Flower Power IPA. Seldom a beer drinker, this writer found the brew extremely bewitching – in other words very good.
We found our seats near left field and boy were they good! The IronPigs stadium has an impressive board listing their major sponsors and sponsors for that particular game. The envelope in which the game tickets were provided is filled with notes as this notetaker tried to include everyONE!
The Toledo Mud Hens were the visiting team and were good sports. They were no match for the Iron Pigs, who scored 7 runs to win the game and bring home the bacon. My favorite player was Aaron Althere, wearing number 27. Every time a run is scored the bottle cap on the coke registered trademark bottle send up a flare type of firework! At another point of the evening, tee shirts were sent by cannon into the stands.
One of the team mascots, FeRROUS, signed my admission ticket, upon request, for AACT and to wish ABE 2 Amazon warehouse Happy Birthday. Another mascot FeFe danced near the field and was charming in gesture and motion. The program includes a marvelous coloring page of her for children to complete. She could be a cover girl!
Budget constraints prohibited me from partaking of the many fine concessions – the aroma was in many ways, nearly as satisfying. I resisted an impulse to grab the leftover chicken tenders someone placed beneath a seat, to take home to feed the cats. It causes me to wonder if there is a way to round up some of these leftovers to feed sheltered animals.
We stayed until the game was over and rode the jitney back to the car. The IronPigs did not let us leave empty handed: we were given samples for Mane and Tail shampoo, a free slice coupon at Big Woody’s (four locations) and $10 off a purchase at Dick’s. It was a lovely night and the free parking pass leave me in a quandary – whether to save the Philly Pretzel coupon or tear it into the shape of one and return it to the park as a gift. Since that night have visited Big Woody’s and that is some awesome pizza. All in all, the trip to the game was worth it and Lehigh Valley earns a grand slam home run. It was good clean fun.
Morning rain made the scenery liquid, a blur except for a signpost in the land-sea. At home, fed the kitties and turned to Emerson for a glimpse into the Conduct of Life before turning in for the day.
Followers of this blog may have found little to follow for the past year or so, leaving a person free to go their own way. Please accept the apologies of the writer, who has been engaged with work and occupied with housekeeping tasks which left precious little time and few glimmers of devoted online access. There is no excuse, just a temporary shifting of priorities.
Everyone faces the task and the adventure of finding their own way in the world, encountering choppy seas, ordered courses and formic acid. The diurnal task of writing, which has been shifted away for so long while under a nocturnal way of life, continues even as a journal of the absurd.
The most recent heron seen was a blue Crane logo for a commercial grade plumbing fixture. This morning’s walk to the four-post over an inch of snow is only a memory that preceded a nine-thirty veterinarian appointment for Simon.
Last night the wind carried snow off the rooftops and it was like spray from a wave, sand in the desert, dust from a bowl of clay. We too grow and go from the earth and the air.
Don’t be such a stranger!
The source of the title of this blog entry has to do with Christmas lights. It has nothing to do with cats, or herons. When one bulb, burns out, the rest of the string stays lighted.
What does a reader expect from a blog? Why does a writer compose? If the cereal box is on the table in front of you, you read. WordPress provides a nice outlet for mental stimulation. There are many lovely and interesting posts published daily. Why look at this one – some days you might not feel you are getting much?
Some days you may receive no content whatsoever, just a headline. Some days you get nothing. Some days you get something of questionable value and some days, something you can put to use. The employment of ideas is up to each one of us. We can decide what to think about, accept and decline. “Could do without that – could have done more with this.” I want something more solid.
To return to the subject, features and benefits, creatures and assets – selling points and notes about what you can appreciate about something. Some houses contain actors who play their parts and provide drama. What happens here is what happens everywhere else and nowhere else at the same time.
This afternoon Mojo is curled up on the sofa with me. I had been making lists of things to do and drawing diagrams of the cats’ names.
I stroke Mojo’s black back. My fingertips apply mild extra pressure. He sheds. So much hair! Good grooming is essential. Basic, you could say.
Domino, black and white, strolls into the living room, gets on the shabby box first and establishes himself on the windowsill second. He looks outside.
“Where’s Tuxie?” I say. “Where is he?”
Domino has emerged from hiding since Tuxie’s disappearance. It is one of the positive aspects of the redistribution of affection and attention. Tuxie is a little bolder, although both are shy. We improvise. Tuxie is out at music lessons, playing etudes or nocturnes, maybe.
Enter Simon. The land line telephone rings. Simon jumps onto the sofa with Mojo and me. Nothing bothers Simon except touching his hind toes.
The mystery caller hangs up the receiver upon the completed repetition of my recorded message to leave a message, if you wish.
Mojo quarrels with Simon, who has come between us.
Mojo jumps down and walks off.
Simon settles on the end of the sofa.
Mojo sits on the shabby box in front of the window.
Cats have nine lives, people say. Lights for holiday glow, the show, oil and sheen of human life, letting us know we are alive. Bulbs on a string – bulbs in the spring. Do we not yearn for lasting and unbroken relationship? Is that not a need and a want?