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Orange and Green
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Monthly Archives: October 2020
Overextended
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Overextended
I’m swamped with obligations, let alone what I like doing.
If it were Halloween, I would have no time for booing.
Gargoyles in the garden would have no satisfaction.
They could haunt me all they want, but they’d get no reaction.
I don’t have time for feeling, for music or for fun
until all of the tasks I face are finally through and done.
I can’t finagle time to merely mess around,
for I fear it is my habitude to be completely bound
by my check-lists and my calendar, and no, I don’t know why.
It’s simply in my nature to do and do or die!
A “friend” once told me with great irritatIon, “If you’re going to do all these things, Judy, just do them, but don’t for God’s sake talk about it!” I fear I’ve broken her injunction, finally, after all these years. This poem is tongue-in-cheek. All things I enjoy doing…but I do know how to make a mess.
Prompt words today are swamp, finagle, gargoyle, habitude, feel and music.
Bougainvillea: FOTD, Oct 20, 2020
One No Trump
One No Trump
It seems that any smartie would
have questions of the hardihood
of one who can’t control his urges,
but opens mouth and simply purges!
It’s anything but recondite
that he is less than erudite.
He stammers and he mispronounces
as he proudly mis-announces
facts and figures he’s invented,
letting out hot air that’s pented
up inside his roiling brain.
The scuttlebutt? This man’s insane!
For the present, we’re stuck with him,
but (we hope) his future’s grim.
In the future, perhaps a cell—
a domain that would suit him well.
No more oval office for
this vain and posturing dimwit bore!
If they ever choose to make
a movie of this shyster flake,
casting’s bound to be a bummer—
choosing between “Dumb” and “Dumber.”
Which will most aptly replicate
our soon-to-be ex “Fool of State?”
Prompt words for today are hardihood, scuttlebutt, urges, recondite, the present and movie.
Thunbergia Grandiflora: FOTD, Oct 19, 2020
Kinda Square, Oct 18, 2020
Culinary Haunting
I know Halloween is coming up fast, but it’s not here yet and I just had the spookiest thing happen to me on Google.
I had just finished my dinner and had several Brussels sprouts left on my plate. Diego was scratching on the door of the Doggie Domain to be fed and before I fed them my remaining sprouts along with their regular doggie fare, I thought I’d check out whether they were good for dogs. I had just typed in “Can dogs eat . . . .” and Google completed the sentence with “cooked Brussels sprouts?!!!” How spooky is that? What are the chances that anyone would ask that question of all the thousands of possibilities? I have not mentioned Brussels sprouts ever on my computer. How could Google know? Then I happened to notice that the sticky note had fallen off my camera lens on my computer, which I always keep covered. Had Google been spying on me as I ate my meal in front of the computer????
My lens is now again covered, and as I take my last few bites of yogurt and blueberries, I’m tempted to write, ‘Can dogs eat . . .?” If Google says “blueberries and yogurt,” I am going to be seriously spooked!!!
Nope. It did predict my ending, but once again it suggested, “Can dogs eat cooked Brussels sprouts?”
A First-Person Description of the Covid Virus
Vin Prest on “Life is a Rusty Rollercoaster” wrote this vivid account of his battle with Covid. Since his is the only detailed report I’ve read that was told by someone who actually experienced the disease, I’m reblogging it here. I think, given the underrating of the experience by our President, that it is important that people hear about the first-hand experience of someone else:
Click on this link to read the rest of his account: https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/181911079/posts/65
Who Won the Week? — 10/18/2020
What better sign of the times than the illegal pilfering of political signboards???
Precognition
Precognition
I don’t want to know what I’ll do ’til I do it.
If it’s preordained, it’s too late to eschew it.
If it’s a surprise, I would say that I blew it,
for there’s no surprise when we simply redo it.
With each future sorrow when we must preview it,
there is no advantage—just more time to rue it.
The vase will still break and we’ll still have to glue it.
The syrup with spill and we’ll have to ungoo it.
Would I accept foresight or merely poo poo it?
When push came to shove, I guess that I would boo it!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 