O Wonderous Night ~ Early Evening Thoughts

'Tis Christmas Eve. It's been an interesting season, one of some sadness, much joy and continued exploration of what life holds. And so, on this Christmas Eve I offer to you one of my absolute favorite stories of all time, just as it was written.

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!! ~

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.

But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest.

O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest.

Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Slightly Over The Edge ~ Early Evening Thoughts

Honest - my mind has NOT checked out because of the coming holiday ~ But these two items have been on the back burner for so long, they were about to dry out . . . especially the X-Files Christmas story. It's slightly over 500 words, but I'll forgive them!

Signs Santa Doesn't Like Your Kid

- 10 -
Kid's letter to north pole comes back stamped, "Dream on, Chester!"
- 9 -
Kid asks for new bike, gets pack of smokes
- 8 -
Along with presents, Santa leaves hefty bill for shipping and handling
- 7 -
By the time he gets to your house, all he has left are styrofoam peanuts
- 6 -
Christmas day, your kid wakes up with a Reindeer head in his bed.
- 5 -
Instead of "Naughty" or "Nice", Santa has him on the dork list
- 4 -
Sends him off on one of them Carnival Cruises with Kathie Lee
- 3 -
First words when kid gets on his lap are, "Touch my beard and I'll put the hurt on you."
- 2 -
Labels on all your kid's toys read "Straight from Craptown."
- 1 -
Four words: "Off my lap, Tubby!"

(Source: Top Ten Lists from LATE SHOW with DAVID LETTERMAN)

The X-FILES Christmas Case
author unknown

"We're too late! It's already been here."

"Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care."

"You really think someone's been here?"

"Someone or some THING."

"Mulder, over here - it's a fruitcake."

"Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal."

"It's O.K. There's a note attached: 'Gonna find out who's naughty and nice.'"

"It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite."

"But that's legend, Mulder -- a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don't believe it?"

"Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive -- and in a hurry."

"It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained."

"It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse."

"But why would they leave it milk and cookies?"

"Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding."

"But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry."

"Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace."

"Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there."

"But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?"

"You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?"

"Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father."

"Impossible."

"I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW THAT I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD!"

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files."

"Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when you're awake."

"But we have no proof."

"Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red."

"But that was a meteor shower."

"Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night."

"Mulder, I --"

"Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?"

"On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter."

"The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter."

An Elegant Time Waster ~ Late Evening Thoughts

With this month marking seven months of sobriety, I was invited to attend a rehearsal for a production number of a club show - and possibly offer help. This involved going to a country-western club here in Houston. After some thought, I decided that as I had a purpose in being there ~ I would be alright. And I was ... uh ... except for one tiny problem. In order to smoke in Houston, there has to be a porch. This club had one, so out I went to have a cigarette. (Nasty habit, I know!) They even had two tents with seating under them. I am heading to the seats under one of the tents, which should have been no problem ~ right?

Alas and alack... I didn't see the cinder blocks that were holding up the supports. I, stone cold sober, sprawled flat on my face, after hitting my knees. Fortunately, the only thing hurt was my pride ... and sipping on my cold sprite made me feel even better. Note to self: watch for obstacles on floors!

Tonight I am posting a wonderful - elegant time waster for the mathematicians in all of us. Well, the mathematicians in you -- I have NO math skill.



The object is to convert the numbers of PI to musical notes ...

This is the 2nd screen you will see ....



A truly lovely time waster ....

---> CLICK HERE <---

Oh and some of the other time wasters listed there are quite fun as well!!!

SOMWPP (Part 2) ~ Late Night Thoughts

As I mentioned last night, a new member has joined the household. As tomorrow is going to be a very busy day, I am going to do a short post tonight, and make up for that tomorrow. And I PROMISE that the following not become a regular ~ "let me tell you about my dog..." posting. There is a lot going on in my life that I want to share ~ he just happens to be immediate (and somewhat demanding of attention! ~ not taking after me, of course!).


I would like you to meet "Bonzai" . . . the spelling is deliberate. He is 12 weeks old and about three pounds. His full weight will probably be a whopping four pounds (possibly dripping wet). When I went to meet him, we almost didn't even go in - I'll save that for a later post. When I went inside and finally met him, I realized that he had never been out of the "pen" (inside thank heavens) he shared with other dogs, never been on the floor, never been outside and never had a collar on. Oh yes, he was also covered with fleas, flea dirt and matted hair. The most interesting thing about him ~ he is litter box trained. If I get a cat that should be interesting!!


When we went to one of the pet superstores to pick up a "few" items he was going to need, I handed him over to get groomed. He did very well - but I can only imagine the confusion going on in his mind.

He was very good -- and was on the inside of my "hoody" with the zipper about 1/2 way down. His head would appear over the top when interested, and disappear when it was all too much.

Having him is much the same as watching a child (I'm thinking of my granddaughter who is holding him in the picture) discover the world around them. He's discovered that cement is very cold, somethings just don't taste good at all and that it's a big very LARGE world out there.

But then if you've been reading my posts about looking back to look forward ... so have I.

SOMWPP ~ Late Eveing Thoughts

A new arrival joined my house collection this evening ... hence the title of this post (**you will have to read through the post for the definition**)

I was given these sayings today and wanted to share them with you ~

Things Dogs Must Try To Remember . . .

I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

The garbage collector is NOT stealing our stuff.

I do not need to suddenly stand straight up

when I'm lying under the coffee table.

I will not roll my toys behind the fridge.

I must shake the rainwater out of my fur BEFORE entering the house.

I will not eat the cat's food, before or after they eat it.

I will stop trying to find the few remaining pieces

of clean carpet in the house when I am about to throw up.

I will not throw up in the car.

I will not roil on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc.

"litter box crunchies" are not food.

I will not eat any more socks and then

redeposit them in the backyard after processing.

The diaper pail in not a cookie jar.

I will not wake Mommy up by

sticking my cold, wet nose up her bottom end.

I will not chew my human's toothbrush and not tell them.

I will not chew crayons or pens, especially not the red ones,

or my people will think I am hemorrhaging.

When in the car, I will not insist on having the window rolled down

when it is raining outside.

We do not have a doorbell. I will not bark each time I hear one on TV.

I will not steal my Mom's underwear and

dance all over the backyard with it.

(**SOMWPP ~ silly older man with pampered pooch**)

The sofa is not a face towel. Neither are Mom and Dad's laps.

My head does not belong in the refrigerator.

I will not bite the officer's hand when

he reaches in for Dad's driver's license and car registration.

---more tomorrow

An Intermezzo ~ Early Evening Thoughts

I will continue the saga of the missing manager probably tomorrow, but I can let you know this much ~ the manager was physically fine, the complex was not. Things has begun to slide, slip and not get done. Some were major ~ as in no hot water for several days; some were interesting ~ as we were getting ready to evict someone for non-payment of rent, when the new tenant of the apartment walked in to pay his rent. Of course, there was no record of this new personage let alone a record of what happened to the former personage.

We were able to get a new manager, and things are headed back on-track and as they should be.

Today was an official day off for me...and I took it! I disappeared from the complex for several hours and had a delightful time. Some friends took me to the large home improvement box store ~ even after they read what happened the last time I was there. I did the aisles and found many things I would actually like to own. But, alas, no scenes from a major motion picture were filmed today. But, I did get some people watching in, as I enjoy doing.

Then, we went to the cell-phone store so I could do what we all with cell-phones have to do to keep it turned on ~ make a payment. The store opened at 1:00pm and we arrived shortly after that thinking that we would be able to waltz right in and get our business accomplished.

We waltzed through the door, and straight into a long line. It would appear that everyone else had the same idea we had. It's just that more people had it earlier. Directly in front of us was a Joe Pesci "wanna-be" ~ complete with the hair-do and voice, but the wrong hair color, nationality and size. Other than that, it would have been easy to mistake him.

He seemed to know a number of the people that were also standing in line, and we were treated to an almost unending stream of greetings, information about those people we would rather have not known ... and at one point he was loaning someone some money for their cell phone bill. That prompted about six of us to also hold out our hands to be part of the gravy train! Alas, no such luck.

While I don't mind lines, my knees do. I moved to a chair located toward the front of the line and sat while my friend held my place in the line. This gave me a very good opportunity to watch the person at the head of the line ~ I'll refer to him as Mr. Bling-Bling. He was upset that 1) he had to pay on his bill and 2) that he had to stand in line as the rest of us were. I call him Mr. Bling-Bling because of all the jewelry he was covered with. There were two LARGE either diamond or very good fake earrings embedded in his ears, the teeth were glittering with jewels (I really didn't think people were doing that anymore), there were chains with jewel encrusted objects from diamond (or very good fakes) studded dog tag, cross and other objects. He also was sporting a couple of quite large flashy rings.

What fascinated me the most was his attempt to get some kind of a discount because he had to stand in line. This was an on-going conversation with the person behind the counter. And I do mean, on-going. He tried every method he could think of for a discount: good customer, mis-handled customer, standing in line customer, long-term customer, always paid his bill on time customer ~ the list was quite long and quite impressive. The person behind the counter was not in the least impressed.

Finally, Mr. Bling-Bling took his case to a higher authority and called Customer Service. They were equally as unimpressed as the person behind the counter had been. At last, he was forced to realize that 1) he needed to pay the bill and 2) there was going to be no discount whatsoever...good customer or not. I thought at the time, the rest of us deserved a discount for his having tied up the line for as long as he did, but decided that the person behind the counter's sense of humor probably wouldn't extend quite that far to appreciate the joke. I restrained myself admirably.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at a very large, very impressive aquarium shop in what had been formerly a Japanese restaurant. Very lovely, very well laid out and many incredible fish. I did find exactly the fish tank I have been looking for, and for ONLY $23,000 completely set up and running. If anyone wishes to donate, I will be glad to provide a receipt.

---more tomorrow

Aging Rambo (Complex Tales) ~ Early Evening Thoughts

As much as I enjoy getting out and doing ~ sometimes, with my knees it can turn into an adventure. I usually in the grocery store get one of those electric carts and enjoy terrorizing doing the aisles and getting what I need. I even use them at what are called the "box stores"...large over filled and over crowded stores with the very recognizable name(s).

The other day I went on a new adventure ~ a home improvement box store. I decided upfront that I would use the electric cart and enjoy the ride. The person I was shopping with decided that my cart would be an excellent repository for various items being purchased for our two complexes.

The screwdrivers, drill bits and such I didn't mind. However, the sections of wood began to present a bit of a problem ...and then there was the boiler pipe. A nice, round L O N G piece of pipe. I had that balanced on one shoulder, and had some ability to steer with the other hand. I'm sure it was quite a sight.

Then, I saw him ~ the "kid." You know the ones in the store - totally bored, trying to stay out of trouble, but looking for something/anything to liven up the day.

Then, he saw me. The one with the large metal pipe leaning on his shoulder, in a cart that could only move at a certain speed.

The following account is absolutely true. (thank heavens there were no video cameras!)

Our eyes met and there was an instantaneous silent agreement. There was a slight nod from him, and a narrowing of the eyes from me. I moved my cart into position.

He ducked behind a handy display ~ but I was ready.

I raised the boiler vent pipe to shoulder level and waited. There were two sales people that stopped, turned and looked. I waited . . . A pair of eyes took a quick glance from behind the display and then he made a run for it.

I didn't do anything, the timing wasn't just right. Again, he took a quick glance and made a mad dash for the hand tools section. I fired (loudly, I might add) ...once then once again ... each time taking careful aim with my rocket launcher. He took a direct hit from the second shot...and fell gloriously, noisily and with great dramatic effect in the middle of the floor.

At this point (to quote someone) the parental unit attached entered the picture. I think he would have liked to be upset, but with several sales people and customers laughing and his child unit dusting himself off ...it would have been very hard to be upset.

Understand that during this entire time not one word had been exchanged. I took a last look at him, smiled ...blew on my fingernails and dusted them on my shirt. He gave me an enormous grin and a thumbs up sign.

I went on my electrified way to find the friend I was shopping with, he went with the parental unit to check out and everyone went back to doing what they had been doing before all this happened. I certainly felt better - I hoped that he felt better about the day. My friend, totally oblivious that a major motion picture scene had just been filmed, apologized for taking so long to find something.

Complex Tales Or Flip The Switch Henry! ~ Early Evening Thoughts

The finals of the "it was a dark and stormy night" for this year have been announced and will be posted tomorrow night probably... (thanks EB for the heads-up)...Today was my own "dark and stormy", or so I thought. Along with the usual phones, people, a boss wanting to micro-manage, demands on time and energy - I had my personal SWAT team here today (again with the vice-grip handshake!).

They really worked very hard to get a lot of things accomplished. There was much noise of maintenance happening ~ a lovely sound I haven't been able to hear for awhile! I also went with them (at their invitation since I was the one with petty cash!) to purchase some of the needed materials.

While on the way back from the trip/expedition I got a phone call from a restricted number. When I answered it, a woman simply started the conversation with: "This IS the ________ apartments, right?" I answered in the affirmative. "And you DO have an apartment XXX, right?" Again, I answered in the affirmative. "And you ARE at __________________, right?" Once more (with little feeling) I answered in the affirmative. "We'll be out," was her response as she hung up.

I have to admit there was a sinking feeling of my heart heading for my shoes, and my stomach heading out my back. In all honesty, I inherited a complex (as I've indicated) that has suffered from severe managerial neglect (for lack of a better or more politically correct term) ~ and by taking on this inheritance, I also have inherited the possibility of some consequences from the city. I now made the assumption that the call was from one of the city departments (correct assumption) about to do an inspection (wrong assumption).

By the time we arrived back at the complex, I had developed a somewhat plausible plan of action. However, when I sat down at my desk, the phone rang again. This time it was a person who nicely identified themselves as someone from CPS (child protective services) who wanted to know if I had received a call from a parole officer about one of my apartments. Now, I know the person who lives in the apartment in question ~ which is directly above mine. The thought that they might be on parole was indeed laughable. Then ~ as Paul Harvey would say: "The rest of the story..."

It seems this "lady" with six (yes, six!!!) children had given her parole officer my complex and one of my apartment numbers as her address. This "lady" was on the "run" and they were trying to find her. At the end of what I would call a good bridge building conversation, the person made the statement: "Aren't you glad we called rather than just showing up with police and all?" To which I had to agree. What I didn't tell them was the image that ran through my mind at that moment, was a montage from several silent movies ... that was best left unsaid.

The day carried on from there ~ and made me think my mind was beginning to turn to mush by about 4pm. And it was around that time I heard someone else's mind beginning to turn to mush ~ or close to it. My vice-grip handshake friend was having real difficulty with something that should have been simple...even for me. (No snickering or sniggering behind your hands, please!!) The light fixture in the laundry room needed to be changed out. A new, improved one had just been purchased and was being installed.

I was watching the miracle of electricity being installed when I was interrupted by a tenant who took literally five minutes to tell me someone needed to clean up in parking slot 5. (Clean up in aisle four!) I kid you not -- FIVE minutes. I had to interrupt watching to go on poop detail in front of the complex. All I will say, that was one healthy dog!

I thought when I got back, I would see the wonder of light in the laundry room ~ which had been absent for awhile. Unfortunately, there was no power to the light or the light switch. Everything else in the room was working as it should. My vice-grip handshake friend was reduced to vague mutters about ~ well, I'm not sure what they were about, but I have a feeling various people's (possibly mine) ancestries were being called into question.

The two of us went through various scenarios, ideas and thoughts. We both prodded, poked and twisted various things to see if they would work. At one point, vice-grip handshake went and purchased a new circle fluorescent bulb to see if that was the problem.

Finally, about the third time we were tearing apart the light switch, it hit me. The breakers. Off to the electrical box ~ some choice words on my part now and definitely an ancestry called into question. I had posted about the maintenance man who is no longer here due to getting in between two people who were arguing - and both people turned on him. He had the key to the locks on those boxes.

Fortunately, vice-grip handshake and those accompanying him have great experience in drilling locks - and in moments we were into the box and checking the breakers. There it was, the one switch on the top. A slight flick of the switch, and there was now power in the laundry room, joy in my heart and vice-grip handshake realized that I might be mature - but I'm NOT dead!!

All in all, a satisfying day.

As I was posting this tonight, I was reminded of a Lewis Carroll poem I once earned three dollars from my parents for memorizing at a very young age...

I'll leave you with that poem tonight:

You Are Old, Father William

"You are old, father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
Pray what is the reason for that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling a box--
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father. "Don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs.

---more tomorrow
should be able to post pictures this weekend!!!

Out Of The Pun, Into The Fire ~ Early Evening Thoughts

(update 8-19-2007) I received a delightful e-mail giving me authorship information on the 2003 winner Gary Roma of http://www.ironfrog.com/. He will be publishing a book soon of his stories, including Love Letters. Thanks Gary for bringing me up to speed.
----

Each year, in Austin TX. there is an O.Henry "pun-off" where contestants compete to win the best of that years puns. While this years winners have yet to be punsted posted I did find some rather delightful puns and stories from previous years.

I posted some winners of the actual contest before, but these were voted on by the Save The Pun Foundation members as best stressed puns.

from Best Stressed Puns of 2004.

Ascent..An aroma.
Brisket..To speed something up.
Castrate..To evaluate all the actors in a movie or play.
Dollop..To dress up attractively.
Exposed..A retired model.
Forthcoming..Three visits weren't enough.
Germination..The birthplace of Beethoven.
Hi-fidelity..A devoted couple.
Institute..A spontaneous session of wind and brass instruments.
Logarithm..Tapping out the beat of a tune on a tree trunk.

From 2003: Love Letters by Gary Roma - see updated version --->HERE<---

Words are just lucky letters. How do letters get lucky? They go to bars. Let's listen:

A consonant goes into a bar and sits down next to a vowel.
"Hi!" he says, "Have you ever been here before?"
"Of cursive," she replies, "I come here, like, all the time"
He can tell from her accent (which is kind acute) that she is a Vowelly Girl. He looks her over. She's short and has a nice assonance.
She sure is a cipher sore I's, thinks this consonantal dude. He remains stationery, enveloped by her charm. "And what an uppercase!" His initial reaction is so pronounced, he doesn't know what to say. He is, at present, tense. Admiring her figure of speech, he falls into a fantasy.
He pictures a perfect wedding: They exchange wedding vowels.
The minister says, "I now pronouns you man and wife."
They kiss each other on the ellipsis. "I love you, noun forever," he whispers. The conjugation is in tiers. In a word, they are wed.
He awakens from his daydream and proposes a dance, but she declines.
Ferment there, she looks like she's going to bee [sic].
"Gee, are you okay?" he asks her.
"I'm, like, under a lot of stress ... I've got a yeast inflection."
"I knew something was brewing."
He calls the bartender. "Listen, bud, my beer is warm."
The bartender takes the bottle and empties it in the sink.
The dude watches as his hops go down the drain.
"Let's go outside," he says to her. "I'd like to have a word with you."
"Are you prepositioning me?"
"I won't be indirect. You are the object of my preposition."
"Oh my God, you're, like, such a boldfaced character!"
"I see your point. But I'm font of you. C'mon let's go."
"Do I have to spell it out? You're not my type, so get off my case.
Reluctantly, he decides to letter B. "Now my evening lies in runes," he laments. He leaves, hoping to have letter luck next time.

And last (but not least) from 2001:

The Peter Pan club? Never. Never.

The quarterback club? I'll pass.

The compulsive rhymers club? Okey‑dokey.

The Spanish optometrists club? Si.

The pregnancy club? That's conceivable.

The Self‑Esteem Builders club? They probably won't accept me.

The Agoraphobics Society? Only if they meet at my house.

And Then They Arrived ~ Early Evening Thoughts

It would be nice to be managing a larger complex, I decided on Wednesday. My frustration level was almost at optimum, and I was waiting for maintenance to happen. Most large complexes have their own dedicated (to the complex ~ I won't deal with how dedicated to work they are!) people that are supposed to accomplish miracles in a short space of time.

I had been waiting for some not-so-minor things to be accomplished. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was much as the furniture story I posted the other day. This time, however, there were no fingernails to chew...they were gone. There was no one to yell at ~ well, no one who was part of the solution to the problem anyway.

Finally, I pulled in the "big gun" and made a phone call. To who will remain behind a discretionary curtain - but needless to say, help was promised within the hour. Now, we all know how that can go ~ one hour stretches into three or four and then into a day. I was prepared. Within the hour, as I was standing outside getting some air...a truck pulled up and it was reminiscent of a cop movie. Four burly guys flew out of the truck, one charged up to me ~ put out his hand. He shook mine in a vice-like grip, asked what needed to be done now and as I was stammering my response (yes, my hand hurt!) they were off on their missions.

I have since dubbed these folks my personal SWAT team. They accomplished in two hours (!!) what had not been accomplished in two days. I would have done a victory dance, but was afraid I'd fall in the bushes or the street ~ so I admirably restrained myself.

Today they were put to the test. I had three drains in three apartments that were backing up and overflowing...not a good sign. The SWAT team were dealing with issues at three complexes, but assured me they would be here today to get more magic done.

I should have simply trusted them - but ... so, when they weren't here in the morning, I started trying to find out what was going on. It's not as if there weren't other things that needed attention, but I was getting some/most/a little of those done as the day went on its merry pace.

It was now afternoon. And one of my more delightful (sort-of) tenants was coming into the office at increasingly shorter intervals to let me know that 1) no one had arrived yet and 2) the water was still backing up and 3) to give me a running tally of how many "buckets" he had taken from the sink and dumped in the toilet.

Of course, there were the usual phone calls, tenants and prospective tenants sandwiched in around getting paper work done (remember, in a weekly rental apartment I do everything I had a month to do before in 5 days...and then get the privilege of doing it all over again the next week!).

Finally, I was making phone calls at increasingly shorter intervals to find out what ~ if anything ~ was going to happen.

4:14pm came around and my SWAT team arrived...this time with only three members. There was the same exit from the truck as before, the same bone crunching handshake ... and they piled into the work. And by the time I left for awhile at the end of my day, they had accomplished all they set out to do, and all that I needed them to do. A good feeling.

Now, I'm not sure what the tenant is going to do tomorrow without a reason to come in and give me reports ~ but perhaps (given his ...ahem...advanced age...more than mine) he'll spend the day recovering.

As for me? Tomorrow brings new challenges, ideas and keeping up with what needs to be done.

I don't get the SWAT team back until Wednesday ~ but that is alright, as I can rest comfortably in the knowledge they will be here and will get things accomplished!!

Maybe I better watch out - they might start doing my job as well ... Now that's a thought ~

--I'm still unable to publish pictures ... hopefully in the next few days ...

The Beginning -Complex Tales ~ Early Evening Thoughts

I had promised a number of posts ago, to start telling the "complex tales" about where I'm working. I've found my life once again full of delightful (and some not-so-delightful) people who can make my day more interesting than I ever thought possible.

Several weeks ago, when I hired on ~ one of the problems was maintenance...or rather the lack of it. We tried Toby in the job - and that didn't work out. I did have someone that lived at the complex who was versed in some of the skills that were needed, so it was decided to give him a try.

One of the first things anyone managing or doing anything at an apartment complex learns is how to drill a lock. Yes, sometimes you have to change locks for legal reasons (usually having to do with an eviction) and there is no key. It is not difficult to do - unless you don't do it correctly.

It was the end of the day, and R said that he would drill the lock for me - we were taking possession of an apartment that someone had vacated before the police were going to arrive. As he had never done this before, I showed him where to drill (there are two places) and how deep to drill (drilling for oil will only complicate the process). He repeated the where and the what for ~ and I started on my way home. I had to walk to the train to had downtown and then wait for a bus to carry me home. I had no sooner gotten to the train station when the first call came from R. Disaster evidently had struck.

I turned around and headed back to work. I arrived to find a very frustrated newbie maintenance man, metal shavings all over the porch - and a lock that looked as if it had been hit completely in the middle by a meteorite...there was a one and one half inch crater in the center of a three inch lock.

Now we are in a mess. The purpose of drilling in two places is to get the pins to loosen and eventually drop off and the lock gently, quietly and sweetly comes open. If not, you have to continue drilling in a circular pattern around the lock hoping that the screws from the inside will eventually drop out and you can twist the lock open.

Literally 12 ~ yes ~ twelve holes later, one of the screws drops - but the lock pins are holding strong. I now have a newbie maintenance man with steam coming out of his ears and if not-gentle conversation from him could have melted the lock ~ it would have.

I decided that the time for direct action had finally arrived. I really didn't think the second screw was going to drop, the pins were there for the duration and I really didn't have anymore time to mess with it. Since the drill was made of metal - I delivered several strong blows with the side of the drill to the lock casing ~ and the second screw dropped. And we were home free...except for the 2nd lock. Looking at R I asked if he was OK doing he next one. He assured me he was and with a quick motion of the drill, he began. It was success!!

I took out the sword of management and dubbed him "no longer newbie" on the spot...and again wended my way home. I also would never admit to him that the first lock I ever drilled on a vacant apartment ~ we ended up kicking the door in because I made such a mess of it. I have SOME pride left after all!!!

---more to follow

Pant, Pant, Puff, Puff ~ Late Night Thoughts

A quick update ~ and I apologize for not posting Friday as I said I would. This was an absolutely wild, crazy, frustrating, amazing week. Monday was just the tip of the iceberg about the job that I had taken. When I finally got through some of the paperwork, I found that the corporate office (deliberately lower case), my boss and myself were operating on completely different figures. I had one set, my boss another and accounting a third. Unfortunately, the office was in the midst of updating how the accounts are done and posted.

We know how much fun changing anything can be, this involved approximately 15 properties of various sizes, shapes and states of being. And this was...fun was maybe one of the words I might have used this week.

I also have (finally) seen the apartment that goes with the job, and am seriously considering moving into it.
Not that it would add any more confusion to what's already going on ~ right??

I put in quite a few hours this week (as in over 56) - and I think I ran myself slightly down in the process. Today I have felt a cold trying to take over (sooo not going to happen!!). So, as my dear friend SGB said to tell everyone: I'm not doing a lengthy post tonight ~ I'm going to bed with a hot number (and that's my temperature!) (What were YOU thinking?) and a dose of "Theraflu." ....

I should be back on track tomorrow ~

THE JOB

Imagine that
the job were
so delicate
that you could
seldom-almost
never-remember
it. Impossible
work, really.

Like placing
pebbles exactly
where they were
already. The steadiness it
takes... and
to what end?
It's so easy
to forget again.

Kay Ryan

--crazy doesn't cover it magnet
http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/HPM/BM1162~Crazy-Doesn-t-Cover-It-Posters.jpg
--Job Poem by Kay Ryan
Published in the New Yorker Magazine dated January 31st 2000

A Last Minute Suggestion ~ Late Night Thoughts

If you are looking for a last minute Father's Day gift (for me, of course!) ~ look no further ... from Bloomberg.com.

A diamond-encrusted platinum skull by Damien Hirst will go on sale for 50 million pounds ($99 million) in London. The price compares with the $8 million hedge-fund manager Steven Cohen paid for the artist's pickled shark in 2005.

``For the Love of God'' is covered entirely by 8,601 stones weighing a total of 1,106.18 carats. It will form part of the exhibition, ``Beyond Belief,'' at the White Cube, Mason's Yard gallery next month. Other works will go on show at Hoxton Square.

A sale of the skull for about $100 million would put Hirst, 41, on a price level with Pablo Picasso and Gustav Klimt, dead artists who produced some of the 20th century's most famous works.

White Cube won't release an image of the skull (I have an image below) or discuss security, gallery spokeswoman Sara Macdonald said in a telephone interview. She confirmed the 50 million-pound price, reported in the Sunday Times on April 29. There's a private view on June 2 and the exhibition will open to the public from June 3 through July 7.

The show will include two new series of works. ``Fact Paintings'' depicts the birth of Hirst's son Cyrus by cesarean section in August 2005. ``Biopsy Paintings'' are based on images of 30 different forms of cancer and other terminal illnesses.

Twelve new sculptures will include seven formaldehyde works from Hirst's ``Natural History'' series. ``Death Explained'' presents a tiger shark cut in two, displayed in separate tanks.

``In this exhibition, Hirst continues to explore the fundamental themes of human existence -- life, death, truth, love, immorality and art itself,'' White Cube said in a press release.

The U.K. artist employs about 80 people in studios and administration, having added 30 staffers to handle coming shows, his spokeswoman Jude Tyrrell told Bloomberg News in March.

Assistants help create art ranging from medicine cabinets to pickled animals to butterflies stuck in gloss paint, she said.

Actually - when you scroll down to see the skull ... it's really kind of creepy. Perhaps the pickled fish would be a better idea? Or as my Mother would say: "Just one more thing to dust!"

Porpourri - Answers From Earlier ~ Very Late Night Thoughts

I realized that during my brief time away, I had forgotten neglected to give the answer to the puzzles I had posted. I have given myself twenty lashes with an old Games Magazine and here are the answers ~

First Puzzle ~ (sometimes called "The Vowels Holy Holiday")

"In an old church in Westchester county, N.Y., the following consonants are written beside the altar, under the Ten Commandments. What vowel is to be placed between them, to make sense and rhyme of the couplet?"

P.R.S.V.R.Y.P.R.F.C.T.M.N.
V.R.K.P.T.H.S.P.R.C.P.T.S.T.N

This one is missing all the "E"'s that would help it make sense.

PERSEVERE YE PERFECT MEN
EVER KEEP THESE PRECEPTS TEN.

Second Puzzle ~

A new bride was required by her husband to show him all her correspondence. She did manage to get important information to her best friend, with the following letter.

Revealing the Secret

"The key is to read every other line!!"

I cannot be satisfied, my dearest Friend,
blest as I am in the matrimonial state,
unless I pour into your friendly bosom,
which has ever beat in unison with mine,
the various sensations which swell
with the liveliest emotion of pleasure,
my almost bursting heart. I tell you my dear
husband is the most amiable of men,
I have now been married seven weeks, and
never have found the least reason to
repent the day that joined us. My husband is
both in person and manners far from resembling
ugly, cross, old, disagreeable, and jealous
monsters, who think by confining to secure –
a wife, it is his maxim to treat as a
bosom friend and confidant, and not as a
plaything, or menial slave, the woman
chosen to be his companion. Neither party
he says, should always obey implicitly;
but each yield to the other by turns.
An ancient maiden aunt, near seventy,
a cheerful, venerable, and pleasant old lady,
lives in the house with us; she is the de-
light of both young and old; she is ci-
vil to all the neighborhood round,
generous and charitable to the poor.
I am convinced my husband loves nothing more
than he does me; he flatters me more
than a glass; and his intoxication
(for so I must call the excess of his love)
often makes me blush for the unworthiness
of its object, and wish I could be more deserving
of the man whose name I bear. To
say all in one word, my dear, and to
crown the whole — my former gallant lover
is now my indulgent husband; my husband
is returned, and I might have had
a prince without the felicity I find in
him. Adieu! may you be as blest as I am un-
able to wish that I could be more
happy!


Third Puzzle ~ (probably already known to anyone who's taken a training class!!)

Wood,
John,
Mass.

It was delivered to John Underwood - Andover, Mass.

Once A Pun A Time ~ Early Morning Thoughts

On May 19th, Austin, TX will play host to an annual event of non-earthshaking proportions.

THE O. HENRY PUN-OFF:
AUSTIN'S THIRTY LITTLE SECRET

A little history is in order - starting with the ISTPF -International Save The Pun Foundation (who knew??):

Founded by the late John Crosbie in 1979, the International Save The Pun Foundation has become the world's largest and fastest-growing apocryphal society. Since one person in five in North America is a functional illiterate, and since everywhere the little red schoolhouse is full of too many little-read students, the Foundation exists to arouse a greater interest in reading by encouraging people to have fun with words.

To quote from their history:

The current chairman of the bored, Norman Gilbert, is a financial planner based in Toronto, Ontario. He first subscribed to the pundit in 1984, after hearing John Crosbie in a radio interview, and has never looked back. When John died in 1994, Norman acquired the rights to the Foundation from John's estate, the transaction taking place, appropriately, on April Fool's Day.

Under Norman's leadership, the Foundation's 1,600 members continue to stumble onward, spreading the good (and sometimes not-so-good) words, and scattering their gems of linguistic libertinism about them like Johnny Appleseed, although perhaps not always with the same level of appreciation. Hysterically screaming "Up the pun!", this unruly band of rebels may be found waving tattered copies of the pundit, and storming the barricades of grammatical rules and regulations around the world. From Australia to Zimbabwe, wherever they are erected by the steadily retreating phalanxes of pedants and self-appointed guardians of our language, the barriers are falling, and people are having fun with the language, thanks to the unceasing efforts of Norman and his plucky crew.

With great hesitancy, I bow to my love of words - and my admiration for the truly awful pun - and present two of last years winners of the pun-off.

There is a time-limit of 90 seconds for contestants...to which can be added 30 seconds making a total of 2 minutes. Quite long enough to listen to a string of puns I would say. There are two divisions: Punniest of Show and High-Lies & Low-Puns - and each division is limited to 32 participants.

AURAL SEX
(hint: read it carefully)

The graffiti on the PLATHroom wall was simple: "For hot one-on-one word play, call 1-800-WORDCORE.

And so I call, and she answers, and she jumps right into it.

She says, "Are you ready for some aural sex?"

And I say, "Oh, yes!"

And she says, "What are you drinking?"

And I say, "A tall tequila mockingbird, what are you drinking?"

And she said, "A nice vodka milkSHAKESPEARE. You sound so buff...have you been working out? I can tell you have tight vocabs. I'll bet you have a huge dictionary."

And I said, "Oh yes, indeed, it's the Oxford English Language Dictionary. 151 pounds of pure...definition."

And she said, "I want you to give me multiples right now!"

So, I purred, "Onomatopaea!"

And cried, "More! More!"

So, I moaned, "Supracalifragilisticespialidocious!"

And she said, "Don't fake it. Give it to me RILKE."

So, I whispered, "Antidisestablishmentarianism..."

And she screamed, "Affirmative! Affirmative! I want you to rap for me! Now!"

And I said, "What? Rap? I can't rap!"

And she said, "But rappers are SO sexy!"

And I said, "I can't rap! I was a Lit Major!"

And she said, "Oh, go PLATH yourself! I know you've got a superior WHIT, MAN, so just pull out your DICKENSON and start KEROUACKing now!"

So, I said:

"Uhm... Yo...

My words are warm wool slippers, put your poor, cold feets in
they'll lock you up like Alexander Solzenitzen!

I'm cooking up lyrics like I was a chef, see?
I'll give you Rhymes and Punishment like Dostoyevski!

Before you step to me, you better back the heck off,
'cuz I've got more plays that Anton Chekov!"

She said, "You need to slow down, why you be Russian? By the way, you sound a little gay... Are you a homophone?"

And it was then that I realized this wasn't really working for me. We were just two relationships passing wind in the night, crashing into the same GINSBURG.
--Eirik Ott (copyright 2006)

AN ANIMAL DICTIONARY

Four years ago I stood here and presented an ABC primer on animal puns. Since Richard Lederer and I now have a new book out (titled THE GIANT BOOK OF ANIMAL JOKES), I thought it would be appropriate to present an all-new alphabetical primer on animal puns, with completely different animals. Here I go:

I will not cast ASPersion on my previous performance, but I will BUCK the trend of not using the same theme. I just hope it doesn't become a CATastrophe and I start DRAGON my feet. And I hope no one will feel any EEL will towards me, as I just want to have a lot of FAWN. In fact, I'll GOAT to any length to keep these animal puns going forever and HEIFER. I'll tow the line and try not to give up an INCHworm, as I dig for more animal puns. If I have to search for animal puns at night, I'll use a JACKAL lantern. My goal, as always, is to keep up the KOALAty of these animal puns. If I can offer any tips to anyone, just LEMUR know. If you're not sure, merely MULLET over for a while. But don't be bashful; because, in this case, no news is bad NEWTs. If I'm ever in your neighborhood, I'll stop by for a visit if OPOSSUM by your house. And I'll drive carefully, since I don't want to be accident PRAWN. If I come, I promise not to QUAHOG the conversation. You must think I'm a RAVEN lunatic to keep up this SHRIMPly awful animal punning, when in fact it actually makes me THRUSHed with delight and URCHIN to tell even more. So, are you VIXEN to invite me over? If so, I think WEEVIL have a good time. We could sit around and talk about the death of some skate and ray fish, commonly know as X-
RAYS. Or we could dress up, go out, and YAK it up. Finally though, if a female is invited, she should be sure to wear (as the French say) ZE BRA.
--Jim Ertner (copyright 2006)

Potpourri ~ Late Night Thoughts

I thought I would be able to move from a rather "silly" Saturday to a more sedate Sunday. However, a couple of friends decided I needed some puzzles and such to liven up my day. The first item, however, I found by myself ...

From a science post I found:

This compound, C4H5As, is known as arsole.

When it's fused to a benzene ring, it's called benzarsole.

And yes, the poster and I DID go there.



"In an old church in Westchester county, N.Y., the following consonants are written beside the altar, under the Ten Commandments. What vowel is to be placed between them, to make sense and rhyme of the couplet?"

P.R.S.V.R.Y.P.R.F.C.T.M.N.
V.R.K.P.T.H.S.P.R.C.P.T.S.T.N

(And you thought I would automatically post the solution? - I'll post it tomorrow)


Adolph Blaine Charles David Earl Frederick Gerald Hubert Irvin John Kenneth Lloyd Martin Nero Oliver Paul Quincy Randolph Sherman Thomas Uncas Victor William Xerxes Yancy Zeus Wolfe­schlegelstein­hausen- berger­dorffvoraltern­waren­gewissenhaft­schaferswessen­schafewaren­wohlgepflege­und­sorgfaltigkeit­beschutzen- ­von­angreifen­durch­ihrraubgierigfeinde­welche­voraltern­zwolftausend­jahres­vorandieerscheinen­wander­ersteer- ­dem­enschderraumschiff­gebrauchlicht­als­sein­ursprung­von­kraftgestart­sein­lange­fahrt­hinzwischen­sternartigraum- ­auf­der­suchenach­diestern­welche­gehabt­bewohnbar­planeten­kreise­drehen­sich­und­wohin­derneurasse­von­ver- standigmen­schlichkeit­konnte­fortplanzen­und­sicher­freuen­anlebens­langlich­freude­und­ruhe­mit­nicht­ein­furcht-­ vor­angreifen­von­anderer­intelligent­geschopfs­von­hinzwischen­sternartigraum, Senior, was born in Hamburg in 1904.

It's not known whether he worked at the Donaudampfschiffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebswerkbauunterbeam- tengesellschaft —
(the office that governed steamboat passage on the Danube)—
but he certainly should have.



A new bride was required by her husband to show him all her correspondence. She did manage to get important information to her best friend, with the following letter.

Revealing the Secret

I cannot be satisfied, my dearest Friend,
blest as I am in the matrimonial state,
unless I pour into your friendly bosom,
which has ever beat in unison with mine,
the various sensations which swell
with the liveliest emotion of pleasure,
my almost bursting heart. I tell you my dear
husband is the most amiable of men,
I have now been married seven weeks, and
never have found the least reason to
repent the day that joined us. My husband is
both in person and manners far from resembling
ugly, cross, old, disagreeable, and jealous
monsters, who think by confining to secure –
a wife, it is his maxim to treat as a
bosom friend and confidant, and not as a
plaything, or menial slave, the woman
chosen to be his companion. Neither party
he says, should always obey implicitly;
but each yield to the other by turns.
An ancient maiden aunt, near seventy,
a cheerful, venerable, and pleasant old lady,
lives in the house with us; she is the de-
light of both young and old; she is ci-
vil to all the neighborhood round,
generous and charitable to the poor.
I am convinced my husband loves nothing more
than he does me; he flatters me more
than a glass; and his intoxication
(for so I must call the excess of his love)
often makes me blush for the unworthiness
of its object, and wish I could be more deserving
of the man whose name I bear. To
say all in one word, my dear, and to
crown the whole — my former gallant lover
is now my indulgent husband; my husband
is returned, and I might have had
a prince without the felicity I find in
him. Adieu! may you be as blest as I am un-
able to wish that I could be more
happy!

"The key ____________________"
(Oh dear, I'll have to post this solution to this tomorrow also.)
– Charles Bombaugh, Facts and Fancies for the Curious From the Harvest-Fields of Literature, 1860

In The Queer, the Quaint and the Quizzical (1882), Frank H. Stauffer describes a letter with the following puzzling address:

Wood,
John,
Mass.

It was delivered to ____________________.
(Ah, once again the answer posted tomorrow!)

Squeeze A Grape (The Finale) ~ Early Morning Thoughts

The Finale (Chapter one) (Chapter two)

Our train car still overflowing, was beginning to settle down. We were still crowded beyond belief, still trying to find ways to get comfortable and the village was still encamped around the bathroom. Evidently, my maneuver with the drag queens had given me a small bit of notoriety, and there were no longer complaints or grumblings when any of us had to use the bathroom. And the car was still connected very close to the engine. A coal fired engine.

At this point, some of the negatives of the situation were becoming very overwhelming - especially to the students. They had put up with the train station upheaval, the conditions - and all the people. However, even their willingness to be adventurous was being tried to the limit.

The train pulled into a station for a quick stop. That was when we discovered that the Cirque De Woodystock was about the enter the free market zone. From that point on - until we reached our destination - the wheels of commerce had joined our group. I think I would have welcomed the dancers back. During this time we were treated to vendors getting on at a stop and getting off at the next. We were all wondering why the passengers weren’t doing that as well.

We had booze sellers - of both the hot and cold variety, no ID check required. My immediate answer was no - which had to be repeated several times to the older students. The villagers in front of the bathroom were very glad to see that vendor. We had people selling various food items - some identifiable and some (most) not. Roasted nuts proved to be very popular among everyone in the car. At some point two fruit vendors got on the train and walked the aisles with bananas and such. We had vendors with dishes, cooking pots of all sizes. We had someone selling a rubber band ukulele and something I had not seen before nor since - a tin can guitar. There were at least two booksellers, I think. (Remember, at this point we all have been without any or much sleep, food had been sporadic and no one had been near a shower for awhile. We were “the sweaty unwashed masses.” ) One of the booksellers realized the breadth of his audience ages. He tried to sell children’s books to the students and to the adults - in full view of the students, he offered a selection of adult books. The covers of some would have been cause for immediate arrest in the US.

While the phenomenon went unnoticed at first - a couple of the more alert students picked up on it, and acted accordingly. At some of the stops, passengers were getting off along with the various side-show people that had made our long night more interesting. As this occurred, more spaces became available around us. Students and adults would gradually move into the available spaces and could actually begin to move limbs that had been immobile for the entire evening. A few changes in luggage placement and several more could actually stretch out and attempt some sleep.

Eventually, the vendors seemed to be gone. The sun was coming up over the horizon, and with it the new day - surely our stop couldn’t be too far from now. More and more of the puppy-pile bodies were disentangled and finding spots to claim as their own. The last vendor, I remember was selling a new invention: the safety pin (!?), and had gone to…wherever these vendors were going. Not, I’m sure where several of the people in the group had wished they would. At last, I thought I might have a chance to get some sleep - in relative peace and quiet.

Any chance of that was abruptly ended by a very loud, repetitive “alms for the poor” type chant/song from the other end of the car. And I do mean very loud and very repetitive. When there was a pause for breath, the chat was punctuated by the “tugga-tugga, tugga-tugga” of a damaru. (A small hour-glass shaped drum, with a hard object attached to leather or such, allows the drum to sound by moving one hand back and forth.) Some damru’s are very lovely and sell for quite a bit of money. In this case, the drum was home-made and had a very distinctive sound…”tugga-tugga-tugga-tugaa” followed or preceded with the very loud, very repetitive “alms for the poor.” I was convinced that I was going to be trapped forever on this train, in some kind of Twilight Zone existence, doomed to repeat all the nights activities - over and over.

As the alms seeker made his way toward us, I realized that he was “blind” or so I thought. When he arrived so I had a closer look … he gave the appearance of having had some terrible problem with his eyes. They weren’t clouded by cataracts or such. They were covered with a very white, somewhat wrinkled film. It had small folds in it, and covered the entire eye - something he made sure that everyone still left on the train had a very good look at.
Then, I remembered a piece of trivia I probably would have been better off forgetting. When I was in college studying drama in all its forms. We had gotten an article about Lawrence Oliver and one of his earlier performances of Oedipus Rex, the great Greek tragedy. He was looking for a way to make coming onstage after blinding himself more real and horrifying to the audience. Evidently, he did some experimenting and took the inside membrane of a chicken egg and put it on his eyes. It was translucent and allowed light and some shadow in - and gave exactly the same appearance as I was now looking at. My suspicions were confirmed when we reached the next stop and as he was getting off, he reached up and pulled the membranes off his eyes and walked away having had a “miracle,” and made money in the process.

The next stop would be ours, and we began the process of gathering up what was left of our energy, relocating luggage and preparing to get off the train. The schools auditor/financial officer was to meet us.
He and his wife had left after we did and were flying to meet us before they left on their vacation. By now, we understood what being in a car close to a coal fired engine meant. We were literally covered with soot. It was in the hair, clothes, on the skin. I felt as if Sherman’s Army had “marched to the sea” barefoot in my mouth.

We got off the train and gathered on the platform looking, I’m sure, as a very dispirited band of ragamuffins setting out to the new world without a penny to their name. We were met by absolute visions in white. Absolutely blinding white. The financial officer and his wife - who had spent two very relaxing days waiting for our arrival - were walking toward us with big (rested) smiles on their faces. Their clothes were crisply white, their smiles glistened with white - I think even their hair had turned bright white. I will not repeat what one of the students said under their breath behind me, but suffice to say I didn’t correct her either.

“And so, did you have a great trip?” were the first words out of his mouth.

For the first and only time in my life I contemplated murder most foul.

“Squeeze a lemon and you don’t get apple juice” was a popular saying a few years ago. The meaning was quite simple - whatever I am inside, is going to come out during stress and strain. Whatever masks or identities I wear -- when the going gets personally tough, whatever is within - whatever I hold as “me” is probably going to “shine” when the push becomes the shove. Miss Marley (an elderly lady who lived at the school - and was the oldest resident of the school) always told me - “When you squeeze a grape, you don’t get wine. It’s got to be mashed around a bit first.”