PONDERISMS

1. I used to eat a lot of natural foods until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

2. There are two kinds of pedestrians...the quick and the dead.

3. Life is sexually transmitted.

4. Healthy is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

5. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

6. Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

7. Have you noticed since everyone has a cell phone these days no one talks about seeing UFOs like they used to?

8. Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

9. All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

10. How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

11. Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things and drink whatever comes out"?  Hmm...  I have the same question about eggs.

12. If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, then what is baby oil made from?

13. Do illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup?

14. Does pushing the elevator button more than once make it arrive faster?

15. Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

I may have published a number of the ponderisms before, but a few were new to me and made me laugh out loud.

"LAST CHANCE HARVEY"

Since I'd completely forgotten that I bought the DVD, I must have purchased the film "Last Chance Harvey" some years ago. Last night I finally watched, and I enjoyed the performances of two fine actors, Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson, in a lovely, romantic story. While the audiences' reactions were decidedly mixed, the critics gave the film higher marks. One critic said the movie was "sweet and tender", and another said, "They don't often make romances like this, so tell your mum - or granny!" Well, I thought it was sweet and tender, and I'm a mum and a granny, so I suppose that's why I more than liked the movie - I loved it. It will not be among the most memorable films I've seen, but it was a fine way to spend a cold and rainy New Year's Eve.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

How many of you know the lyrics to "Auld Lang Syne"?



Or if you prefer the pipes...



The Scots - they are a proud people. I've seen their lovely Highlands.

"THE NINE TAILORS" BY DOROTHY SAYERS

Facebook's question du jour is, "What's on your mind?"  My answer is that I finished reading Dorothy Sayers' The Nine Tailors for the second or third time and enjoyed the mystery better than ever. I understood the process of change-ringing a bit more than in the previous reading (or readings). Sayers writes beautifully.

By contrast with the brilliance below, the bell-chamber is somber and almost menacing. The main lights of its eight great windows were darkened throughout their height; only through the slender panelled tracery above the slanting louvres the sunlight dripped, rare and chill, striping the heavy beams of the bell-cage with bars and splashes of pallid gold, making a curious fantastic patterning on the spokes and rims of the wheels. The bells with mute black mouths gaping downwards, brooded in their ancient places.

Tell me that's not fine writing. Better yet, think what you like, but if you disagree, don't tell me.

When I reread mysteries I rarely remember whodunnit, so the suspense remains the second or third time around, especially when years have passed between readings.

To see how change-ringing is done and how it sounds watch the videos below.

 

DID I READ THAT RIGHT?

Did I read that sign correctly?
TOILET OUT OF ORDER. PLEASE USE FLOOR BELOW

In a Laundromat:
AUTOMATIC WASHING MACHINES: PLEASE REMOVE ALL YOUR CLOTHES WHEN THE LIGHT GOES OUT

In a London department store:
BARGAIN BASEMENT UPSTAIRS

In an office:
WOULD THE PERSON WHO TOOK THE STEP LADDER YESTERDAY PLEASE BRING IT BACK OR FURTHER STEPS WILL BE TAKEN

In an office:
AFTER TEA BREAK STAFF SHOULD EMPTY THE TEAPOT AND STAND UPSIDE DOWN ON THE DRAINING BOARD

Outside a secondhand shop:
WE EXCHANGE ANYTHING - BICYCLES, WASHING MACHINES, ETC. WHY NOT BRING YOUR WIFE ALONG AND GET A WONDERFUL BARGAIN?

Notice in health food shop window:
CLOSED DUE TO ILLNESS

Spotted in a safari park:(I sure hope so)
ELEPHANTS PLEASE STAY IN YOUR CAR

Seen during a conference:
FOR ANYONE WHO HAS CHILDREN AND DOESN'T KNOW IT, THERE IS A DAY CARE ON THE 1ST FLOOR

Notice in a farmer's field:
THE FARMER ALLOWS WALKERS TO CROSS THE FIELD FOR FREE, BUT THE BULL CHARGES.

Message on a leaflet:
IF YOU CANNOT READ, THIS LEAFLET WILL TELL YOU HOW TO GET LESSONS

On a repair shop door:
WE CAN REPAIR ANYTHING. (PLEASE KNOCK HARD ON THE DOOR - THE BELL DOESN'T WORK)

Thanks, Frank.

ALL ABOUT ME

My Facebook friend Chris Fewings dashes off poetry the way the rest of us breathe, and he wrote the bit of verse about me when I used the Louisiana French term "lagniappe", which means a little extra, something like a baker's dozen. I think the poem is so lovely and funny that I wanted to share. Besides, it's all about me! What's not to like?

She's the sunshine in the twilight
The little extra in Louisiana
The slug of something stronger
Slipped into my champagne.
She's the sparkle in the bubbly
Her hubby's evening star.
She's the toast of all on Facebook.
She's the rainbow in the rain.

Chris Fewings 23-12-13

Chris writes very fine serious poetry, which may be found at the link above.  I especially like "Open Your Hand".

On his "About" page, Chris says, "Influences on my poetry include R S Thomas and George Herbert, among many others. (I hope that sounds impressive.) My tastes have become more catholic with age, so I now delight in light verse almost as much as in “difficult” poetry."  Perhaps he delighted a bit in the light verse about me.  I know I did.

FEAST OF ST JOHN THE EVANGELIST

Today is the feast of St John the Evangelist, the patron of my church. The Fathers of the Church believed John the Evangelist was the author of the Gospel, three Epistles, and the Book of Revelation, and the same person as John the Apostle and John of Patmos.  Later scholars suggest rather that a disciple of John the Apostle wrote the Gospel and three Epistles and that John of Patmos was a different person, because the writing style of the Book of Revelation is too different from the Gospel and Epistles.

Pictured above is the stained glass window at St. John's Episcopal Church in Thibodaux. The detail in the glass shows a snake coming out of the goblet in John's hand. According to legend, the emperor Domitian offered poisoned wine to John, but he blessed the wine and the poison came out of the goblet in the form of a snake.  A painting by El Greco illustrates the same legend.

Collect of the day

Shed upon your Church, O Lord, the brightness of your light; that we, being illumined by the teaching of your apostle and evangelist John, may so walk in the light of your truth, that at length we may attain to the fullness of eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

(Book of Common Prayer)

I BLAME THE AFRICAN VIOLETS

Well, my peeps, we started off the Second Day of Christmas (aka Boxing Day) with a wee flood. I was in process of soaking my seven African violet plants in the sink in the utility room, the very same plants I pled for a kindhearted plant-lover to adopt the other day on Facebook, with no takers. I closed the drain, turned on the tap, put two plants in to soak, went to get another, got distracted, and left the water running with the drain closed. When Grandpère came in from outside, the utility room and the nearby bathroom were flooded with water mixed with dirt from the flower pots. No permanent damage was done, but the clean-up was not fun.

The cabinets below the sink and counter and their contents were wet and dirty. Grandpère had to move the washer and dryer out, because water and dirt had seeped under the appliances. Some wise person said it's an ill wind that blows no good, and, in our case, the saying proved true, because, as Grandpère was mopping behind the washer, he saw that the pipe that drains the water was corroded and had a small leak, which, had he not discovered it, would very soon have become a large leak with the possibility of another flood in the utility room. We also threw away a load of wet junk that had accumulated in the cabinets, another good result.

The leaves, flowers, and stems of the two plants that were in the sink were covered with dirt, so I pitched them, and then there were five. Maybe five plants will be more manageable.

FEAST OF THE ST STEPHEN THE MARTYR

St Stephen icon by Tobias Haller

We give you thanks, O Lord of glory, for the example of the first martyr Stephen, who looked up to heaven and prayed for his persecutors to your Son Jesus Christ, who stands at your right hand: where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting.

(Book of Common Prayer)

If the humble beginnings of Jesus, the Christ, conceived by an unwed mother and born in a cold stable, a shelter for farm animals, is not real enough for us, the feast of St Stephen the Martyr jerks us violently back into reality.

Read Tobias' "Warning For Storytellers".

Acts 7:59-8:8

While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, ‘Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.’ Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them.’ When he had said this, he died.  And Saul approved of their killing him.

That day a severe persecution began against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria. Devout men buried Stephen and made loud lamentation over him. But Saul was ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women, he committed them to prison.

Now those who were scattered went from place to place, proclaiming the word. Philip went down to the city of Samaria and proclaimed the Messiah to them. The crowds with one accord listened eagerly to what was said by Philip, hearing and seeing the signs that he did, for unclean spirits, crying with loud shrieks, came out of many who were possessed; and many others who were paralysed or lame were cured. So there was great joy in that city.

'TWAS THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS...

Yeah, That’s How It ‘Twas …

 

‘Twas the day before Christmas and all through the store

The clerktures were stocking the shelves with more more.

The shoppers were whisking their carts through the aisles

With nary a pause for the checker’s wry smiles

For the last minute frantic, seekers of sales,

Deaf to the howling of their lost children’s wails.

And Tasha and I o’er the fryers presiding,

Ignoring the new boss’s chatter and chiding,

Filled orders for chicken by the pound and the piece,

As if breading and oil (please just don’t call it grease)

Were first gifts by tradition, required with zeal,

To note the occasion, poor folk’s holiday meal.

Still, still, still, the union requires a break for us all,

left the tongs to the boys, made the dash to ladies stall

with only slight hope they’d not make a great mess

of our tidy, efficient, order process.

With ten long minutes to fill before punching back in

Snuck the bell ringer hot coffee to offset his gin,

Then wandered past cases I’d soon be re-filling

Thus thwarting the work rules that frustrate the willing.

When back from our rest what a sight we did see,

An ocean of oil from the fryers set free!

The filter valve left open in haste they did leave,

Even no-slippy shoes gave no help or reprieve

From the wading in hot slick they made on our break,

No help their limp shrugging, “it was just a mistake.”

With squeegees and towels and spill-eaze by the quart,

Set them to swabbing, a not so festive new sport,

While we re-filled the wells with fresh bubbly goo,

With orders yet pending, nothing else would do,

Despite visions of mayhem that danced in our heads

And wishing those slackers had stayed home in their beds

(a call-off less trouble than trouble created

By half-hearted work from the uncomplicated).

At the counter the customers gazed on it all

With wonder, amazement, not one wing we let fall

As we skated on tiles to meet the demand

For the fried and the baked and a spit on hand

To spin the rotisserie birds roasted whole,

See grimace as grin, let no feast turn to coal,

Their parties saved in one hundred piece lots,

no disappointing their own tiny tots

expecting fresh drumsticks with cocoa to go

as they wait for Santa in fresh falling snow.

The nameless in kitchens in stores far and wide

Will know what I mean as I set this aside,

Merry Christmas to all as you hustle away,

The store’s closed tomorrow, and yes just for a day,

If it’s chicken you want, call some elderly elf,

Or you’ll just have to make it your own sorry self.

 

(Marthe G. Walsh)