Rated: E · Book · Hobby/Craft · #1584786
Blogging, to take over the world.
The object is to teach an old dog new tricks. (not much hope ... )|
|Blue Monday: The first day of the working week.
I know, some may differ - then, this is where we are allowed to differ and be at peace with it.
Firstly, let us end off last week on a high note - for me it was a high note - the porcupine had two babies.
Friday, a yell from the porcu's pen, the Prince shouted to the world, and me, to come and look at our wonder.
There they were, two pricklys in a pod, as cute as can be. The first time I ever saw such a wonder.
Is there some plan to all this madness, even if it is to only look in awe at such a miracle - the ugliest, cutest, little thing, imaginable ?
They are available on the nearest Facebook near you, or contact me for a link.
Sunday brought us a lamb, anyone lose a lamb out there ?
It's fleece as black as coal,
And every where we go, Manny is sure to go - as well.
With a dab of white on his fore-head, and a tail dipped in snow.
I am still working on this 'poet' thing, you may have noticed.
This should be blue,as in Blue Monday, yet we will ignore the facts and get on with the story.
At about 1:45am the phone rings ...
Phones should never ring after 8:00pm or before 8:00am, not even on New Year's day, not even on my birthday, not ever.
Anyway, there it rings, I rise up up from the depths of a deep sleep, stumble down the passage as good as I can in the dark, and thoughts of wonder run through my mind, dark images flash ...
It is the Prince.
(As in 'I am the king of my castle, and my son is the Prince')
In a whisper
"Dad, they are busy sawing through the electric cable, please call the police." and a few more basic instructions.
In a previous blog; a while back, the world of the illegal metal trade was spoken about. Copper is at a premium.
Transformer are a good source of copper. Not everyone knows transformers and how they work.
Suffice to say - no transformer, no power. The reverse of the coin, a transformer is good money.
The end result of this story is;
One transformer taken down, damaged beyond repair, replaced by a new transformer, costing a pretty penny.
One unhappy, shaken couple, who realize how close we live to 'danger and lawlessness' on the farms here.
And a wasted effort by the criminals, as they were interrupted in their efforts to feed their own.
Better luck next time - to which-ever side you choose.
And my wishes,
can't we all be sensible, and choose a more sensible time and place for all of this hullabaloo, like somewhere else, another time.
Then the dog found a skunk in its domain - sorry to report, this skunk will no more cause a stink.
Also a 'slender mongoose' got itself trapped in a rat trap. It seems none the worse for wear, the only casualty was me ...
I got bitten for my efforts to free the creature from the trap.
Something about the bark was worse than the bite.
T B CON'T ... (note)
He was 72 years old, he got into his car, then he left.
This is how the story ended.
He told them it was his savings for his old age, when the time would come, and the need was at its highest, then, and only then, would he turn his life's saving in, and collect the cash.
This is how he saw all the rubbish he hoarded, the pieces of 'rubbish' as others would call it.
The old car parts - any idea how much the fender would fetch from the car collector who needed a model x part ? A small fortune he told them.
All those old generators, alternators, fridges, stoves, and other household appliances, were a goldmine of various metals.
Once stripped down into the original parts, sorted metal with metal, a piggy bank worth having.
Many times they told him to move the trove, that the time was ripe, and the price would not get any better.
He disagreed and kept on adding more and more, the time was still not ready.
Behind his back they shook their heads, mocked him when he did not see them, called him all kinds of uncomplimentary names, and doubted his sanity.
This is the way of the world, when people grow older and hang on to theirs, and the following generation start to make plans to clean up behind the old, and turn the world into their idea.
Then the day came and he was away for a while. They took the trove to the dealers. The notes rolled in as the scrap moved out.
Why did they do it, what did they expect ?
He came back, he looked at the situation ...
He was 72 years old, he got in his car, then he left.
There is a time and a place for everything.
It is one of the greatest arts of life, to know when is the correct time and the right place.
On hearing this tale, I took stock of mine, then took the plunge. Why wait, there may be no tomorrow.
Even if there is a tomorrow, today is a good day, tomorrow I will sit in the sun, count my pennies, that should be fun.
And when tomorrow is no more - the word will be " We could have gotten so much more ... "
Then I'll smile, and I will think 'I told you so ....
and tell the story to the worms or angels, or who ever will be around, till eternity, about the day they remembered the words;
'I told you so'
To be cont ~
A tale of joy, a story of woe, with what did your upbringing leave you ?
Reading the story today of the girl who was brought up for 23 years as some ones child, only then to meet her real parents.
She was stolen from her mother as a baby.
By her own effort, she used the internet system to find her way 'home'.
The truth which can now be told, the characters who are all involved, each with a different point of view.
The stories which can be woven, Grimm's tales, Andersen's stories, and many more. Do not let the facts get in the way.
As there are only seven basic tales, so I am told, this basic one is all too true, too many times.
Yes; the 'witch got her due, the King and Queen rejoiced on the return of the lost one.
And the Princess; still lost in her new world ?
There are many of these stories today... when will fairy tales be only fairy tales ?
|In the world of nature, there is one commodity which comes in so many different forms, which is basic, and still can be totally exotic, and that is the rock.
Basic rock will one day turn into dust, and under certain conditions, dust will become rock.
Now the age old question again, which was first, the dust or the rock ...?
Saturday past, I went to town to do nothing in particular.
Well, not quite true, we (the official opposition and me) had our annual birthday of our wedding.
It is a special occasion, when we celebrate the day we sacrificed our free way, and decided to 'living forever together', for better or worse, etc, etc.
Now you may well ask what is the secret to our long life together ?
Do not expect any answer, as I still have no idea.
Anything I say - will get me into trouble.
Back to our rock story...
In town, there are trees in the parking lot, which will one day grow up to be big shade trees.
Now, they are still a bit young for this purpose, yet, big enough for one to bend down when one passes underneath these trees.
At the base, there is a square which is filled with gravel stones and these are grey-white in color.
As I bent down, there amongst the gravel was this round, cream stone, about the size of a acorn.
I am very sure the stone called to me "Take me home, and make me your pet, please?"
There is already a large collection of rocks at home, all of these are my pets.
There is always place for another pet.
There is no rule on how to write. Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly; sometimes it's like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges.
to be con't ......
Man has his cravings; he craves to fill his stomach, he has cravings we will not dwell upon in the company of the young, he craves to sleep, company, and solitude.
Above all this - he craves to occupy his mind with things which seem to have no value - the products from the world of the Muses.
The man is at the top of the food chain, or the bottom of the superior being chain.
Will we truly ever know ?
Man has proved himself as the top predator, as a killer he is unsurpassed.
His guile sets him above all the power a tiger, the charge of the lion, the size of the elephant, and anything else is his by demand and decree.
Yet, he can turn into a sibling, crying for his comfort, craving his company, needing to feed his soul in strange ways.
The feed turns up in many ways.
Some feeds his body, his ego, his soul.
It makes no sense that the food supplied by the Muses, are what sets man above the animal.
It is the only proof which we can set on the table, which proves our being a bit more than a baboon's uncle. Okay, monkey's uncle then, if you insist.
Books are my craving.
Lately I have acquired a few more books, and added them to my hoard. (library)
Muse Domain Emblem
Calliope Epic poetry Writing tablet
Clio History Scrolls
Erato Love poetry Cithara (an ancient Greek musical instrument in the lyre family)
Euterpe Song and Elegiac poetry Aulos (an ancient Greek musical instrument like a flute)
Melpomene Tragedy Tragic mask
Polyhymnia Hymns Veil
Terpsichore Dance Lyre
Thalia Comedy Comic mask
Urania Astronomy Globe and compass
Those exclude the world of pure knowledge, and we could argue in Greek, Roman, and many different sages and ages.
The craving of a room of one's own, is the making of man.
Here I must say, the phrase has been coined by a woman - A room of one's own. by Virginia Woolf, and I must agree, that is the start of civilization.
The room can be anything, my first room was a cardboard box.
Later years it has grown, and now it is two rooms, rooms of my own.
A civil person owns.
Only by owning can you give.
Somewhere, there is a glitch.
As the song goes, actually, there are a few songs where Monday features.
Either the information has to be Googled or we accept my word for it.
Blue Mondays, of those we know well. (went to Google >>>>)
Back from Google; the word Monday appears in quite a few song titles, and a few more Mondays in the lyrics.
A nifty trivial pursuit question - questions you will never ask, and could not care less about the answers
Who was first, the egg or the chicken ?
This Monday started off with the neighbors phoning and telling me they had a rather unusual road-kill carcass, and would I like to see it ?
It turned out to be a marsh mongoose, which is a very seldom seen animal, as it lives in the marshes, and moves mainly at night.
Something which made it doubly unusual is; on the day before, there was another one killed on the road to the south.
As I take note of the 'road-kills' in the area, there must be a reason for their movements.
It is very dry at this time of year, or it could be mating season.
Why the interest in road-kill - it is the only way to see a few of the very shy night-creatures.
I still have to see an Aardvark, and yet, there are aardvark holes all over the place as they dig for termites.
I heard about one being hit by a lorry a while back.
The dead marsh mongoose was then delivered to my 'friend' in the taxidermy business, for a proper stuffing.
The poor mongoose will depart this world with a double stuffing, and somehow will be there for a long time to come - stuffed..
It is not funny !
Then Genie came home with me, now I have my own Genie. It is a young genet, which an acquaintance of mine gifted me.
A very cute looking creature, with the worst reputation as a top class killer of mainly birds, and robber of nests.
Also a creature of the night.
♫ ...Never on a Sunday ... ♪♫ - that is the one song not on the other people's list so far. A few other I did not know
A line from a radio show, years back.
The old man would inquire at the end of every show, when Rita would say she is going off for a bit; "a bit of what, Rita ?"
Googled the line, did find some 'ooo, la, la, la !', then, the net is saturated with eye candy.
Radio was, and still is, a medium I enjoy.
It allows a certain freedom of thought, which the more visual mediums cannot do.
Imagination, we call it.
Now to get the imagination to work for me, to allow the words to flow in an acceptable order, which will result in a story.
Start at the beginning, and go on till 'The End', easier said than done.
Could this be "Ice Blue ?
Because it is cold out there, winter has arrived in all its deadliness, killing off most of the plagues which annoy me all summer long.
The ticks, fleas, garden pests, and gnats, have all taken their leave, or went into hiding, or has been killed.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
"My, what big eyes you have !"
Been watching more Telly lately, as the home dynamics have changed.
The King and Queen are all alone in the castle, with the Prince and his new bride-to-be in the next-door castle.
Kids do have their uses, they keep the wife out of hubby's hair.
I did not say that ... did I ?
We bought a sheep and a few pigs - why ?
A few things can get me more excited than rummaging through a heap of old, second-hand books.
(looks at the list of things which gets my 'goatee' up - the list is long, scrap 'few things')
As a book person, collector, hoarder, and general all-round child of wonder - there are a few places where I like to spend my time.
Any place where there are books draw me. Flea-markets, libraries, book-shops, and pawnshops.
Then the worst, I want to own ...
Yesterday, my wife said she would indulge me, and pay for those books I had in mind.
The books were old books, as books go, starting in the late 1800's to the 1990's.
All sorts, lots of well known classics, and a few others, which was either unknown or not important in my 'book'. (sorry, bad pun)
It took the best part of a half an hour to sort them, and I ended with about fifty.
After another clean-up, twenty five walked out the door with me.
Cost - well - do we worry about that horrid item, suffice to say, I was grinning, and the cost would buy one new, common, everyday, book.
Do I need them, well - like an addict needs ...
I need them !
As I walked out, I noticed the tell-tale hole in the ground, the inch/two-inch hole where the tiny tortoises come out to greet the world.
Still in the hole was the baby, ready to climb out.
I went to get a spade and called the Prince to show him. He found another two holes, and I found another baby in the grass.
We opened the nests and found a lot of rotten and robbed eggs. No more young ones were found, still, from the amount of holes , we know there are more young who have already come out. Maybe we will still find them.
A robbed egg is when the ants get into an egg and eat out the inside.
What makes this unusual is that this is already June, and almost mid-winter here. Normally we find young during January.
To get us up to speed on the ostriches - the mother is getting to settle in well with the young ones. Now to get Dad into the fold !
* How may people on seeing bumble bees, bees, butterflies and birds have not sighed to themselves: "How lucky they are! They are free to go wherever they please. The whole earth is open to them." That is a great fallacy. All the fragile winged creatures which flit above the flowering meadows are no more nomads than the fox, the hare, the stag, the bear or ourselves. They all carve out of the wide world a small or large portion, their dwelling place, to which they are closely tied. *
Secrets of the animal world - F J Pootman. (1959)
* And don't you step on my blue suede shoes *
| The 'wild' birds are close to home. We thought about introducing the tame, hand-reared babies to the wild ones, and get them all to stay closer to home. After about three hours, and many round and round tours around in the enclosure, lunch was declared and the effort to get the wild ones into the same area as the tame ones was shelved till another day. The ostriches won the day.
Wild ostriches do not take kindly to tame ostriches.
A good day to rest - it was more to my liking after a decent lunch.
Siesta is really like a mini holiday to me - a full tummy, an empty mind, off to the land of Nod!
And when you wake up, your chores are done - true - yes, my chore was done !
No - I don't know the tooth-fairy, or indulge in grass, or any other strange powdery stuff.
If you want something done, feel free to ask, I'll get the wife to do it.
Sometimes I do not even have to ask, she goes on auto-pilot, and does it anyway.
She is quite good that way - that is why she is still here.(Should have a 'smily' emo-thing here, otherwise I'll be called a racist again.)
Handy to have a 'mover' as a wife, saves a lot of wear-an-tear on the hubby.
After-all, I do have more important functions to fulfill, I do all the thinking around here.
Well - they - (the wife and Prince) decided to coral the female ostrich, and by gum, they did !
... and I wasn't even there to tell them how to ... okay, no comments now - thank you !
All's well, that ends well