Endings

Ending of the week, weekend. Ending of the year, year end. Unless you are in a business meeting, “year end” does not come up often in conversation. Instead, we say new year and focus on the hope for the new year. I like “new year” vs. “year end”, but the transition is the same moment in time.

Do we get conditioned by books and movies to expect happy endings? Those are other people’s stories not your own. I say, most people have hope and if you have hope then you might expect a happy ending to your own story.

Over the hill - what hill? There are many obstacles faced in life. It seems that obstacles that were minor annoyances in my past appear as insurmountable now. Dealing with frequent changes has become a bigger problem. Is my final stage (stage? phase? no stage needed to act) not meeting my expectations?

The world changed and I changed but not in sync with those world changes.

I’m stealing the following line from the Jim Croce song, “Age” for advice about hills and climbing.

I’ll be careful while
I’m climbin’ ‘cause it
hurts a lot to drop

I’ll dig up some hope for next year. I’m reminded of the saying, “if I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

Notes passed to future

Help me if you can,
I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate a comment I found
Help me, enjoy a post by a clown
Won't you please, please help me?

Too much to monitor and things are breaking

History shows that humans and other species can adapt. I need some adapting help.

Lately, I have not been following my blog’s theme (wait, this blog has a theme? Yes, look at the top banner.). Lighten up.

Retirement certainly has given me more time to reflect and overthink my life. This is often not a carefree exercise. Many events and interactions lately are swirling my thoughts and emotions around. I need to remember how to chill.

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways
My blog inspiration seems to vanish in the haze
But every now and then I feel so insecure
I know that I just need a comment like I've never done before

Float up stream

When I wake up early in the morning
Lift my head, I'm still yawning
When I'm in the middle of a dream
Stay in bed, float up stream (float up stream)

Floating on calm waters is relaxing. If you want to go up stream I suggest getting a paddle. Of course in dreamland floating up stream or in any direction is no problem. You can float anywhere your inner imagination wants to take you.

 

If you didn't recall the Beatles song quoted above, you'll find a youtube clip you can stream below.

 

failed float

No problems in my dreamland. It’s the awake time that bothers me some. My opposable thumb has been opposing me for many months now. It’s very annoying and slightly painful. Bending my fingers so that the little finger touches the thumb doesn’t work like it should. I’m a man losing his grip on aging.

I got to get you into my comments below.

And after all I'm only sleeping.

Not rolled over yet

Life is a rock

but the radio rolled me

 

rock on or on rock?

How often have you been between a rock and hard place? The less that happens the more I can sleep like a rock.

 

Paul Simon had a mama that loved him like rock.

"Oh, she loves me like a rock

She rock me like the rock of ages

And loves me ...."

Are people who have rocks for a brain told to rock on?

 

Long long ago my abs were solid as a rock. More like flabby jello now. The rock climbers build up great strength but they can still fall like rock.

 

 

when what whatever

I bought a ticket to the world
But now I've come back again
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
Oh I want the truth to be said.

NOT my backyard

This post begins with words from the 80's song True by Spandau Ballet. Two thoughts in those lyrics is the reason I put it this post. First one is the difficulty in writing the next line. More importantly, the second one is wanting the truth to be said.

Confused yet? I sure am. The past hit song True would be classified as a love song. I classify this post as a grumble of thoughts and complaints.

Don't you agree, when you are doing or have done wrong then you want the truth to be hidden or denied.

In other words what is it you don't want us to know?

During 2000 and 2001, I made two business trips to Caracas Venezuela. I mention this because I just watched the story of family stuck in the current economic and humanitarian crisis there.

The country had problems then too. But nothing like today. I recall seeing the slums on some of the hills surrounding the city. But people were working. Both of my trips were enjoyable. I thought of going back for a vacation years ago. No more. Other than brave reporters who would want to go there today.

Some thoughts:

• Government is important and not to be taken for granted.
• No government system is perfect. No magical solutions.
• Government is more than political slogans.
• The respect and following of the rule of law is vital.
• Respect for all people is vital.
• The larger the gap between economic health of the rich and poor, the more potential for violence and unrest.
• The bottom and middle working groups need growth. Not the top rich.
• History shows that dictators don't run countries for the benefit of all its people.
• Venezuela is an example of dictators ruining the lives of their people.
• I'm worried about our current leadership's disrespect for law and justice among other inadequacies.

Lastly, the following thought came to me recently while I pondering common phrases:

More people should try eating thought for food. No calories and you may find a good idea.

Here's link to that song if you don't recall it.

Memory refresh

Would you agree that personal memories increase in importance as you age?

I’m not saying past memories are more important than making new memories. It’s just that as you lose a memory you begin to hold on to the remaining ones tighter.

In my last post, Bits of Memory I listed “Blogging is useful for memories” as a blog benefit. This post will continue with that idea.

a memory of pulling a wagon

Once again my process of developing a post brings in additional ideas which modify my initial idea. I was just going to focus on one song, “Don't say you don't remember”. As I listened to the lyrics, my senior mind provided a different view of what “don’t remember” might mean.

Don't say you don't remember
I'll never love anyone else
If you say you don't remember
How can I go on living
(How can I go on living)
With myself?
When we meet you always call me "baby."
How could it be that you forgot my name?

I often complain about how easily I forget names. I’ve witness dementia wiping away the ability to recall a spouse’s name. My experience with dementia relates to my late father-in-law. The lost of his personality, good nature and eventually his identity was difficult to watch over time. A disease that destroys memories is torture.

My father-in-law could sing. I think my wife’s love of Frank Sinatra is related to her dad’s singing. (it might also relate to why she finds my singing so bad)

I’ve certainly had songs trigger memories but other things trigger them too. Smell is another trigger for me. Talking with siblings refreshes memories. Siblings can provide you the gift of a story about yourself that you don’t remember.

The sibling refresh of a memory happened to me this past week. Talking with my older sister on the phone (I sure hope future generations will realize the value of reminiscing over conversation. Reminiscing via text or blogging would not be as good) left me with a new story about my childhood.

She recalled putting me in the wagon and pulling me up to the grocery store to buy some items for mom. My job was to hold on to the bags of stuff. She said I did a good job. The store was about a half a mile away from our home. Listening to her tell the little story was a joy. I do remember the store and walking my route to go there over the years following those wagon rides.

There are many songs about remembering memories which with the suggesting of the youtube sidebar I offer you a small collection with links. My fondness for lyrics leaves me no choice but to drop some of their lyrics in this post.

Unforgettable

Unforgettable
That's what you are
Unforgettable
Tho' near or far

In my Life

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better.
And some have gone, and some remain.

Tears On My Pillow

You don't remember me, but I remember you
'Twas not so long ago, you broke my heart in two
Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart
Caused by you, you

Glory Days (note song starts after about a half minute of a construction worker??)

Glory days well they'll pass you by
Glory days in the wink of a young girl's eye

Reflections of My Life

The changing of sunlight to moonlight
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes

Oh yeah, the song I had originally thought would fill the post:



Well hopefully this music or idea will trigger a memory for you.

what's that sound

eau, ahh, eau, ahh

That's not the sound of men working on the chain gang.

No, it's the sound of old men trying to move.

working on getting up

Actually my own experience has the sound "shit" added to those other sounds.

Thanks for letting me share that. Maybe after I get comfortable I'll come up with a sanguine post. Meanwhile I'll be practicing on enunciating my grunts and groans.

no cup of joe

Thursday Aug 17, 2017 - coffee cup crisis 
Apparently sometime during the daylight hours yesterday my favorite coffee cup was set down somewhere unusual in this house. I’m frustrated in my inability to locate this excellent coffee cup. After looking in a few obvious places like next to this computer I took a break from the search and drank some coffee with a backup cup.

I feel more upset than if this coffee cup had been dropped and broken. That would have be upsetting but at least I would have known what happened to it. Not knowing if it is still intact or broken somewhere increases the stress.

last seen 8/16/17 answers to "smell the coffee"

Our house is smaller than most so after the few rooms I would expect to see it sitting on table/shelf/box/something. Also, bothering me is how a missing coffee cup could upset me. Just adds yet another dimension to the dilemma. How could I misplace a useful clearly visible object like this? I’m one of few in the family that even drinks coffee. Hopefully writing about it will help me to move on.

That coffee cup has warmed my hands on countless mornings. The thick sides and well rounded rim keeps the coffee warm and flowing easily.

What will I misplace next?

I regularly derail my train of thought. I’ve gotten use to that. However I'm typically OCD about putting things back in the same place.

Oh, on a brighter note - did you see these cool eclipse stamps? My nice brother-in-law alerted me to this post office offering. I ran out to the post office to pick-up a sheet. These forever stamps ($0.49 ea) are sensitive to heat. The black moon clears to reveal the moon’s face after you hold your thumb on them. Also, so far I have not misplaced them. (I know I didn't bring my coffee cup to the post office)

sun moon stamps

BREAKING NEWS - Lisleman’s treasured coffee cup has been found. The cup is in fine condition. After a day long search by as many as 3 adults, the cup was discovered abandoned inside the microwave.

I was just about to publish this when she-who-found-it announced the news. I can’t believe I didn’t reheat leftovers today and found it myself. I'm feeling dumb now.

In celebration here’s a song about losing it by Lucinda Williams.

I think I lost it
Let me know if you come across it
Let me know if I let it fall along a back road somewhere.

I could use a joke

Let's stop a minute and take a rest. If I joke about it, then my mind won't treat it like a problem - right?

Two old guys walk into a bar ….

<<<< Probably not, your joke is not going to help much today.

Yeah but it’s NOT really a problem anyway.

It’s only natural. The normal course of events shouldn’t be a problem.

Going downhill should be easy and fun. I remember rolling down hills as a kid. The world just flipped over and over. I would end up a little dizzy and might have grass stains on my pants. Oh the sand dunes were the best, no grass stains there. I was fine with over this hill and then that hill. I loved roller coaster thrills.

Sure a few of those that fall fast to the very bottom often don’t make it back up to the top. Often life is what it is.

Ok maybe I’ll try a different path. No sense in dropping too fast. I’m not in a big rush to get there.

Hey if a knee blows out in a forest, will anyone hear it?

<<<<  How's your knees?

How much does a knee replacement cost? Don't answer. I'm sure it is what the market will bear. However if you see a bear coming I'm sure you would be glad to have trusty knees instead of rusty ones. Do bears like rusty knees? Don't answer.

Hey, listen, I have seen some funny sights on my path of life which reminds me, didn't I start telling a joke?

Oh yeah, so the second guy turns and says....

take a ride

Non sequitur - I love the smell of Latin phrases in the morning. Carpe diem.

If I ever get out of this bean bag chair, I will … 

Tip - Bean bag chairs can keep an old person in place for quite awhile. 

"Yeah, just set old uncle Henry in that bean bag over there so we won't need to worry about him roaming off."

my old man move

I’m not on twitter. However, I do enjoy one liners. Still good sweets are better than good tweets. Here’s a good tweet I read.

"I saw an ad for burial plots and I thought, that's the last thing I need"

flashy ride

Pass me that age defying daily renewal cleanser.

Remember when people referred to hang-out bars or small hand-wrapped cannabis cigarettes as joints. Getting old reminds of the another definition of a joint. My joints are no longer mellow. Often they are a source of pain. Would a joint fix a painful joint?

Nobody is in charge when everyone is looking for a place to recharge their smartphone.

Keep your eyes up and step slowly away from the smartphone.

Big hit in the sixties was “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf. I like to dream about a magic bean bag ride (I’m sure it offers softer landings).

Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free

I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.

Damn, where did uncle Henry go?

hey you, get off of my

The Rolling Stones finished this thought with “my cloud”. In the advanced technological world many don’t know they live in, this takes on new meaning. Too many hackers have ripped right through others online clouds. So hackers get off of my cloud.

My old guy mind nags me with another common ending, “get off of my lawn.” I’m not going to yell that. I’m very proud to say I have never told anyone that. Not that I would want anyone camping on our little lawn, I don’t mind people or kids being on it. As a kid I recall having this yelled at me.

Here’s two possible ideas to end that phrase:

get off of my FB feed
get off of my lane

Remember, You Can't Always Get What You Want and if you stress over it you’ll have your 19th Nervous Breakdown. Don’t expect an Emotional Rescue, It's Only Rock N' Roll.

Shattered?

Relax and watch a clip Sheryl Crow back when she had short reddish hair. Hey you, get off of my style.

streaming the old way

Natural streaming

Just finished a bit of road tripping. (funny how "tripping" had that other meaning during my youth) We visited family and got out into nature. The streaming we enjoyed was not the technological type.  Good streaming can be found in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
 

my thumb - no actually my NP pass

On an earlier trip a nice park ranger at the entrance of a national park in Florida told me about the lifetime pass I was eligible for.  I bought it.  Ten dollars!!  For a lifetime pass to any national park.

Now my youngest adult daughter pointed out that lifetime for me was not the same length as it is for many others.  Remarks like that could shorten her lifetime but I took it as a funny joke.  You need to be 62 or more to be eligible for this great offer.

Of course the entrance fee at most national parks is very reasonable so this senior pass is comparable to a senior discount.  You can bring four people in with you too.

Having only used my pass the day I got it months ago, I was slightly excited (doesn't take much does it?) to use it again.

As I studied the route from my sister's place to the park I noticed the Blue Ridge Parkway connected to our planned route.  (oh this GPS Google mapping thing is the best app for a smartphone)  We had been on the Blue Ridge Parkway once in Virginia.  We hopped on it for a few very scenic miles (oh no trucks allowed on it too).

The parkway dropped us off on the road into the park.  We passed a visitor center after which I expected an entrance gate.  Mile after mile of following a beautiful mountain stream but no entrance.

Finally we reach the middle area of the park and turn on the side road for Clingmans Dome.  At this point I figure I just discovered a back way into the park.  Use the Blue Ridge Parkway and get in free.

We stopped in the visitor center/gift shop.  After picking out a t-shirt (my normal daily costume) I mentioned this lack of entrance gate to one of the staff.  I'm told that the Great Smoky Mountains National Park is free.  I never knew that even though I had been there as a kid and with my kids before.  (ok I guess I completely forgot)  I was very disappointed.  I really wanted to pull out my exclusive club pass senior pass.  (if interested here's the history behind this park being free)

I just wish there were more national parks around northern Illinois.   

 

ramble on

“This getting older ain’t for cowards.” - John Mellencamp

I keep busy sitting in my nowhere land making all my nowhere plans for nobody. (yeah the Beatles wrote something like that once) Depending how I look at my partial filled glass, I feel like I have it made or have hit rock bottom. (actually a rock bottom is better than quicksand) Sometimes I just need to get back and adjust my playlist. I’m not the millionaire I once thought I might be. (thousandaire should be adopted by the retiring baby boomer generation)

A benefit of aging into an older man - you discover that you can’t run like the wind but you still produce wind which eventually becomes classical gas. Take a listen, there are no words for it:

whole lotta music history on youtube

Nobody warned me that phrases used in my young days would have new undesirable meaning in my later years. Not that you really need a warning for such a change but I wasn’t expecting it.

For example, Jerry Lee Lewis had a hot hit with “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On”.

Back when my head of hair was dark, a whole lotta shakin’ would be a great thing involving girls. Now, this white hair guy thinks of nervous disorders that afflict too many aging people when I hear that phrase. I don’t imagine doctors joke about a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on in their explanation of their diagnosis.

While listening to my Itunes, the Jerry Lee Lewis song popped up. This post started with the idea of using whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on but before I finished researching various trails and tangents I ended up at “the day the music died”.

Another hit Jerry Lee had was his cover of the Big Bopper’s “Chantilly Lace”. Chantilly lace is fine along with a pony tail hanging down, a wiggle in a walk. But I would not want any great balls of fire.

Big Bopper doing Chantilly Lace

My research uncovered a response song to “Chantilly Lace”. You might remember the song was the male end of a phone call (back when phones were used to talk on) between a guy and a girl. The response song was the girl calling the operator to connect with the guy. The Big Bopper wrote both songs apparently.

Now even I am not old enough to remember ever connecting my call via an operator vs. direct dialing (oh I do remember needing to turn the dial). The Big Bopper didn’t live long enough to hear this response song titled, “Bopper 486609” played on the radio. “The day the music died” happened on Feb. 3, 1959 just before this song was going to release. Buddy Holly, and Richie Valens also died in that single engine Beech Bonanza plane crash.

The Big Bopper’s son, Big Bopper Jr. like his dad sang and played rock-n-roll. My wife and I saw him perform in a tribute concert at the same venue that his dad in the 50’s had played at, the Willowbrook Ballroom. We have seen it there twice. The tribute tour is called “Winterdance Party Tour”. It was organized by John Mueller who plays Buddy Holly. There is also a Richie Valens impersonator.

Here’s a clip about the tribute tour and you’ll notice the Willowbrook Ballroom sign at the beginning (about the 1:19 point).





A sad note - Big Booper Jr. died in 2013.

I need some advice

nice tree

I’ve noticed that most all advice columns are oriented for women.  I know men do know how to read and beside you can find advice via podcasts today.  It not like guys don't have ups and downs like everyone.  Is it really true that men detest advice?  Don’t tell me, I know where I’m going.

I never cared much for advice columns or books.

It seems the closest I get to advice is a how-to reference. Always solution focused.

Maybe it’s just adjusting to this retirement thing. Retirement does not have a precise definition. It certainly doesn't mean being able to do anything and everything one might find interesting or wanting to do. Sure the amount of free time has expanded but just free time doesn’t fix the necessary adjustments.

My wife shared a recent story that was sent her way via a friend. It has been emailed around for awhile so you might have seen it. Fun wordplay.

We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Arizona. Now they live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass. They ride around on their bicycles, and wear name tags, because they don't know who they are anymore. They go to a building called a wreck center, but they must have got it fixed because it is all okay now, they do exercises there, but they don't do them very well. There is a swimming pool too, but they all jump up and down in it with hats on. At their gate, there is a dollhouse with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape. Sometimes they sneak out, and go cruising in their golf carts. Nobody there cooks, they just eat out. And, they eat the same thing every night - early birds. Some of the people can't get out past the man in the dollhouse. The ones who do get out, bring food back to the wrecked center for pot luck. My Grandma says that Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and, says I should work hard so I can be retarded someday too. When I earn my retardment, I want to be the man in the dollhouse. Then I will let people out, so they can visit their grandchildren.

Everybody’s texting at me. 
I don’t a read a word they are texting. 
Only the echos of my mind.

Well it's alright

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, doing the best you can
Well it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

don't let this guy sneak up on you

There are some good lyrics in this song, “The End of the Line”. Now, I certainly don’t feel like I’m near the end of the line. My future lies beyond the yellow brick road. Sometimes I’m reminded of Elton John’s song, “This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore.” (I’ll leave a post about those lyrics for another time).

I did a post about John Mayer’s song, “Stop This Train” awhile ago. Here’s the link.

I’m not interested in the last train to Clarksville. Life has been a long train runnin’. Oh, there are days I feel broken down like a train wreck especially when I wake up with locomotive breath (Jethro Tull). My train has slowed down but I don’t want it to stop.

Then there was Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train”. Now that’s a train more people should have taken a ride on.

Remember Gravy Train dog food?

Arlo Guthrie sang of a long train trip in “City of New Orleans”. It starts off in Illinois. The longest train ride I took was back in the sixties. I took a train from Joliet IL. to Des Moines IA. to visit my older sister. A big adventure for a kid.

I guess when trains were more popular there were more train songs. The “Midnight Special” folk song was about both prison and a train. But my logic is probably faulty since prison has never been popular. Creedence Clearwater Revival did a memorable version of it. Though the magic of youtube I found versions by, Paul McCartney, Bobby Darin, and Little Richard.

Let the Midnight Special shine her light on me.

Oh yeah, back to The End of the Line lyrics that inspired this post.

Well it's all right, even if you're old and gray
Well it's all right, you still got something to say
Well it's all right, remember to live and let live
Well it's all right, the best you can do is forgive

Newtonian motion

Let’s get physical.

Isaac Newton long ago wrote some laws regarding motion. His third law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  It's a fundamental law for space travel.

But what about the space your midsection occupies?

a beer ice cream experiment

A new law should be introduced. I’ll call it Lisleman’s third law because he forgot the first two.

For every inaction there will be eventually a bad reaction from looking in the mirror.

Einstein introduced the spacetime concept. Most of us today find as time passes that space around our midsection expands.

Now that my mid-section has expanded over the years (dark energy expansion?) I wonder if I can call a t-shirt a t-shirt. I don’t know what letter to use. It appears more like an ‘A’ with a dull top or maybe a ‘B’ with a large bottom.

Poetry in motion, lovely locomotion, my motion is not. Ok, my motion was never really poetry. However, I’m not broken down like a train wreck yet.



Next time I should try to work the fig newton into this.

 

old age sign

First off, what the hell is “old age”?

You will not find a precise definition. We all have varying degrees of health and attitude. (also some might cheat with better drugs)

a road less traveled

This end of year holiday season found me recently meeting a half a dozen former co-workers for beers one evening. I am the second oldest one of this exclusive group.

Here’s my possible sign of age. We met at a local sports bar. Not one of those big chains. Also it was not a “breastaurant” (did you know there is a wikipedia page for this term?). The place had good beer and food. My problem was the noise. I didn’t expecting the quiet of a fancy restaurant but a level less than busy commuter train station or floor of a sheet metal factory would have been nice. I must also point out that I’m not a sports nut. If a Chicago team gets into a championship I’ll pay attention, otherwise you better have free tickets or great deal to attract my attention. Fair weather fan is not a bad term.

My question - is finding noise a nuisance during a get-together a sign of old age?

Carrying on conversations even across the table was stressful and difficult. Forget yelling down to the end of the table - no way.

I have heard that background noise is known to become a greater problem for older people.

On the bathroom scale of problems this is really nothing but a small annoyance. It’s a small first world suburban guy problem. Good thing I don’t need to be able to hear you all the way over here. Just reading your comments will work fine.

(not really related - so you know how one thing leads to another and another on the vast internet? Breastaurant lead me to this comedy clip from Amy Schumer)

lets work on this

Bloggers are very creative, so I'm asking the right group.

Later in life (later is a nice relative term) a common occurrence happens when we look at celebrity news. It happens enough that it really needs a name.  A hashtag would be even more useful.

Here's my description of it: You are reading a magazine, a newspaper (ok I know I'm one of few still doing that), or maybe watching the news and it hits you - Celebrity so-and-so is how OLD? When the hell did that happen? Oh shit that means I'm old. It can't be. I remember him/her when they were smoking hot.

Calista Flockhart turned 50 last month. Yanni turned 60 last month (he was in his 40’s last year right?). How is this possible?

Dick Clark at most any age

Dick Clark (died at 82) had a youthful look well into his 70’s. I wondered if he was an alien since he didn’t appear to age.

Whatever we call this it's popular. It's so popular that the first section of my aunt’s AARP magazine that I read is their 'Big 5-oh' page (alright full disclosure - it’s MY AARP magazine). They also list 6-oh 7-oh etc.

So if that celeb news shocked you a little, what do you call that event that just happened to you?

Calling it "oh shit" is not descriptive enough. Here's some of my suggestions:

Ohnocantbe
Denialstop
Timestamped
AARPatize
Celeb Security

As you can see I need some help with this. Please leave your suggestions in the comments.

sun-dried fragment time

It's time for a Friday post. You know the grill. Mrs. 4444 provides a nice place for bloggers to collection their Friday Fragment posts. Since it's the middle of summer here (I have an occasional reader from south of the equator so I point out the season once in awhile) I think I'll grill my fragments. Whatever your reason for your season please browse over to the fragment roast at Mrs. 4444's blog.

serious bean toss

Those cement objects in the grass might be mistaken for flag pole holders to those not familiar with the tossing of the bean bag.  I took the above picture at a neighboring city park this week.  We had gone there for the splash park but I noticed these nearby.

I've played the game many times.  I know it is played throughout the Midwest but I'm not sure if it is popular on our two coasts.  Some call it cornhole/corn toss (the bags were often filled with dried corn) or tailgate (extensively played during tailgating parties).  This is the first I've seen fixed platform stations with cement side pads for the players.  Someone at their park district must be a serious bean bagger.  I wonder if anyone there is a member of the American Cornhole Association .

enjoying the beans after rough game

I commented to someone the other day that their dream sounded better than my last one. I don't know why I have arguments in a dream. More pointless than my arguments when I'm awake. 

(Really I’m not obsessed about this. But go ahead criticize me in the comment section) During my saunter in the superstore today, the end was foreshadowed. Not my backend which doesn’t cast a shadow. No, the end for me as in the big dirt nap. I now think I know how it’s going to end. She-the-fast-walker will find the biggest superstore around and convince me to join her. Once inside the cavern of rollback smiley faces she will challenge me to find some item listed on a coupon. I’ll never see her again. I will wander for hours.  Near closing time my body smashed by an overstuffed fast moving cart will be discovered in the home goods section. 

a pet peeve (do you keep peeves for pets - they don’t eat anything) - Buying ripped jeans - a sign of yet-to-be developed brain? Or maybe a low patience level so low that they can not wait for the jeans to rip themselves.


Could I become the digital clown of great renown? Hey lighten-up, enjoy a tune on me: