Good Afternoon, Friends!

Oh my, it’s dark right now!  They forecast thunderstorms for the Metro area today, perhaps this is why.

I’ll just have to write lightly, that’s all.

And with that I must also warn the readers that what follows is absolutely and only within the realm of first world problems and various and sundry nothings.  This should not come as a surprise since it is the usual for my blog posts.  If you want current news, fake news, scientific news, or political news, this is not where you are going to read it.

Unless a certain hot place freezes over and the Vikes win the Super Bowl.  Then all bets are off.

My first topic involves the workings of my intrepid laptop. Sometimes I have trouble getting it open. The little box where I type my password just won’t appear. The key to opening up this box is for me to press Ctrl—Alt—Delete.

Yep. The formula for shutting down the laptop is the same as opening it up.  Weird, huh?  Why do I feel like I’m in a Theatre of the Absurd play??

“Tuesdays, Thursdays and Tuesdays.  Three days a week.”

Just a line from “The Bald Soprano,” one of those plays. It was enjoyable to do and made much more sense than some reality that’s going on now days, now that I think about it.

Maybe my laptop is within a parallel universe scripted by Ionesco or Beckett. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it was and I could just move my fingers over the keyboard and it would write me a Theatre of the Absurd play?

Speaking of writing plays, I heard an interview with Neil Simon years ago. He claimed that when he sat down to type a play, he did the physical part, but wasn’t conscious of doing the actual writing part. It came from somewhere outside of him. Interesting, huh?

 

+++++++Nope. No transition here+++

 

“By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.”

Famous line from the witches in Macbeth.  I had no idea it was a real thing until I found it throughout the Brother Cadfael books. Yes, yes, yes, I realize that he is a fictional character, but the author is using phrases people used, in this case, in the 1100’s. If you felt your thumbs pricking, it was an omen. Something or someone was coming and it wasn’t good.

So, my question is, have any of you ever felt that? As a harbinger of something bad?  Have we lost that ability? Or do we sense it in other ways?  What is that physical feeling when we think something is awry?  Your stomach drops?  Aleut detective Kate Shugak had that, but I can’t remember what it was.  But she knew for sure when she had that feeling that something bad was coming.

Right now, it seems that my thumbs only prick when I jab them with a sewing needle, but I intend to listen to them more carefully.

 

*****Nope*****

 

“Girl Waits with Gun,” by Amy Stewart is the first book in a series of fictional books written about the true life first woman deputy sheriff in the U.S.  She’s one of three sisters who live out in the country on their own —– without a man to take care of them. I have read the first in the series and am now listening to the second on WPR’s “Chapter A Day.”   I highly recommend both and intend to read the others when I get a chance.

 

I also recommend “The Secret Diary of Hendrik Groen, 83 ¼ Years Old,” by Hendrik Groen.  He is taking stock of the comings and goings on for a year in his rest home. And he’s a stitch and a half.  He and his cohorts who want to have more fun have formed The Old But Not Dead Club to plan more excursions and imbibing.  He gets away with “The Fish Murders” and wonders why since he’s at the age where he dribbles a little, why underwear is not yellow instead of always white.  Let’s just put it this way: If I were in a rest home, I would want to live next door to Hendrik.

I am listening to it on cd, fyi.

 

I am also at the beginning of “Raft of Stars,” which takes place in Wisconsin, and “All the Light We Cannot See,” which takes place in France  during WWII.   And I am loving them both.

 

####why are you looking?####

 

The comfy abode is now a construction zone. The main floor bathroom is being re tiled, papered, sinked, mirrored and lighted. The toilet is currently in the garage.

And this is the part that is a third world problem: I keep forgetting that it’s out of order and I either have to go upstairs or downstairs to take care of business. As a result of that forgetfulness, I wait too long and then have to run up or down the stairs. I am getting some exercise out of the deal and my pedometer is showing it, so I guess it’s a good deal. But I can’t help but remember as I watch the carpeted stairs blur under my feet the same sight all the years growing up in Red Wing with just one bathroom in the house.

 

The hubster is going to put some noxious substance on the walls soon, so I’m going to run upstairs one more time before we leave to pick up the mirror. Send good thoughts that I survive the construction dust, smell, and decision making.

 

Have a Tubular Tuesday!

Love,

Janet