Found this quote on my Word-a-Day from VocabVitamins.com

"The mind of the thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, with everything priced above its proper value."
         Oscar Wilde (1854-1900). Anglo-Irish playwright, author. [Lord Henry, in] The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891).

Hmmm............

 

I was just wondering if there is a first day of Autumn. We seem to make note of the first day of Spring (I guess we're watching for that first crocus to pop through the snow) and the first day of Winter (even if it's already been snowing) but Summer and Autumn just seem to slip in unannounced.

When I was growing up I always thought the first day of school was the first day of Autumn. Going back to school pretty much meant Summer was over. Maybe I just never noticed it before, but kids were starting back to school in August in many places ... even here in California. August is just too early to declare Summer over so I went searching for the first day of Autumn. The official first day of Autumn is when the hours of daylight and night time are approximately the same. This year, I guess that day is September 22.

I live across the street from a high school (yes, both of my children attended that school) and as I watched the swarming adolescents I thought I saw evidence of their seasonal confusion. Although it was gloomy at 8:00 a.m., the temperature was already edging past 75 degrees. There were students wearing sweaters or jackets, some students wore shorts, some wore jeans. Many were even wearing (gasp) white after Labor Day. Then there was the girl wearing a pink tank top, white short-shorts and mukluks ("Mother, they're Uggs," my daughter said with an exasperated sigh.) I guess it was a fashion statement. I can’t help but wonder how fashionable it was at 3:00 p.m. when the temperature reached 100 degrees in the shade. Can you get heat stroke on your feet?

Gotta go, my son and daughter are playing “The Beatles Rock Band.”

Happy Autumn.

 

My husband and I have never been able to take a "vacation." You know, the kind where you pack your bags and drive, sail or fly to some far away place. Instead, we developed mini-vacations. Like Disneyland where, for a day, you walk out of your world and into another. Usually, we brought the kids but, sometimes, it was just he and I walking, talking and holding hands.

Then we found the LA Classic Jazz Festival. Three days of music. This has always been just for the two of us. We stay at the hotel hosting the festival and the music is everywhere. Recently, we changed to a festival in Orange County. Still the same great music.

This year the festival was especially welcome. It has been a stressful year and the chance to get away was much needed. Classic Jazz is a step back into our nation's past. It hearkens back to little smoky bars and musicians pouring their hearts into a new sound. While we move from venue to venue, the musicians give thanks to those who created the music. A few of the names might be familiar to the general public but most would not. To those who attend the festival, those names are almost as familiar as their own.

While we may not be far from home, my husband and I are enveloped by the music and become part of a world trying to keep alive a wonderful piece of the past.
 

It would appear I have done Mr. Buffett a disservice. While it may be strange that the Jimmy Buffett site popped up in my Google search for “Invitation to Insanity,” there is nothing insane about this troubadour. Moondoggie may have ended up with Gidget, but he probably became a dentist. Jimmy Buffett has been selling out arenas and amphitheaters for forty years and he still swims, does yoga, rides his bike and surfs. He has third generation fans who arrive early for his concerts so they can party in the parking lot and he did a 28-concert tour this year. Pretty cool for a beach bum, huh?

Well, would you look at that. It's the holiday season again and I'm only three entries away from last year's entry. Actually, I love Christmas or, at least, the idea of Christmas. At any rate ... Onward Christmas Shoppers.

Here's a couple good thoughts (non-Christmas)

"It's hard enough to write a good drama. It's much harder to write a good comedy, and it's hardest of all to write a drama with comedy. Which is what life is."
~ Jack Lemmon (1925-2001)
Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition.
~ Eli Khamarov

The Jack Lemmon comment is similar to something I heard Jack Carter say on a talk show many years ago. He said that comedians can usually do comedy and drama equally well, but dramatic actors frequently are not good at comedy. Maybe comedy deals with all sides of life but drama, only one.

I love the Eli Khamarov quote. It's so deliciously pretentious and .... poetic.

Happy Fa La La La Laaaaing Everyone!



 

A flibbertigibbet … a will ’o’ the wisp …. A clown

Are you singing? I am. I have been since last Friday when I opened my “A.Word.A.Day” e-mail from Wordsmith. Unfortunately, I couldn’t close the freaking thing quick enough and I’ve been running over hill over dale ever since.

Actually, I love words. I love when a word pops out at you and touches something inside. I love how a word can evoke a memory, a mood or a moment in time.

But … flibbertigibbet? Is that really a word. I mean, after all, it was in a Hollywood musical. Everyone knows Hollywood only has four toes semi-firmly planted in reality. Flibbertigibbet. It also reminds me of one of my mother’s favorite words – gadabout. Not exactly the same, but close enough for government work.

I also love words that sound like something other than what they mean. Like circumbendibus. I’m positive that’s really an incantation from a Harry Potter book. Maybe it’s a spell for preventing someone from getting where they’re going.

Maybe I’ll e-mail Wordsmith and ask them to chose a word from “Hair.” I’m tired of singing “The Sound of Music.”

 

I survived another holiday season. Yes, I mean survived … sort of like an obstacle course peppered with live bombs. All our heart warming traditions seem to come complete with collateral damage. This year I didn’t even try to play the game. I maneuvered through the days on auto pilot allowing the whirlwind to play itself out.

And now the furry forecaster from Puxitawny has decreed we are to have another six weeks of winter. (insert sigh here.)

But, it is a new year with another chance to get it right.

Happy New Year.
 

Came across a great quote while rambling around the Net.

         "You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
                   - Ray Bradbury



 

Yes, it’s true. As soon as we put away the Thanksgiving dishes, we find ourselves shamelessly unprepared for Christmas.

And what’s with Black Friday? Is this some new appellation? Does it spell doom for the Christmas revelers? Or is a prayer of hope whispered by retailers hoping for a plump bottom line?

No matter. Up on your feet you well-fed consumers. Out to the highways and byways you go. Suffer the long lines, fight for the parking spaces, grab the best deal and deplete your checkbooks and credit lines. Then drag yourself home and get some rest for you’ll soon remember you’ve forgotten the scarf for Aunt Sue and the star for the top of the tree. There’s your boss you need to impress and your neighbor you need to outshine. Get the last X-box or laptop or whatever is the toy to have this year. And remember Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, Feed the Hungry and give Toys to Tots.

Merry Christmas to all and to All a good-night.

 

I’ve been meaning add to my blog here at WDC. I’ve been wanting to add to my blog on the web. Then there’s the story I started for a WDC contest I still need to finish and the fan-fic story that keeps wandering around in my head looking for an ending.

But I really need to finish the baby blue afghan I started for a friend. And then there were a couple things that I really wanted to fix on my web-page. Then in-between all the important stuff I had to find time for life’s mundane oddities like laundry, dusting, cooking, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

I should have a plan. No, wait, I had a plan. But my husband hurt his foot and my daughter kept calling because she needed to vent about her frustrations at work and then my son had an argument with his wife and Journeyman doesn’t make sense and Moonlight is kinda lame (but the Vampire’s cute); Life has promise and I really wish the re-mastered Star Trek episodes weren’t on so late.

Maybe I’ll just go play Spider Solitaire.

The best laid plans .......... ain't it the truth, Mr. Burns.