Here’s how things go…. from “to” to “fro”…..

I just shot this door which reminded me of Dr. Seuss… for some reason.  Maybe the colors, I don’t know.  Well looky.  This afternoon, I received a birthday card from some friends… a “Dr. Seuss” kind of birthday card.  Yeah. Hang on to your boots and your suits.  There was a lot of rhyming in that card, like ‘you’ and ‘do’… ‘proud’ and ‘loud’…  ‘hat’ and ‘fat’….  I loved that card, even though my very good friends said my head was fat, too fat for a hat.  Happy Birthday Fat Head.

But none-the-less, I am a hearty fan of Dr. Seuss.  Yes, this I can tell you.  When I was younger, I loved those rhymes… One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish … or…. I do not like green eggs and ham, I do not like them Sam I Am.   Then…. a little older…. I read the “Sneeches, and Other Stories”.  If you don’t know it, I highly recommend it.  (The Sneeches at Amazon)

But Dr. Seuss was wise, wise, wise.  Wiser than a stack of pies.

Here are a few of Dr. Seuss’ quotes.

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

“If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good…”

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is You-er than You.”

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

So there you have it.  I am going to bed.

I’m going to bed with my fat head.

There’s a lot to be said for a good tomato.  And soon, it will be that time again… for that fresh-out-of-the-garden, plump and juicy, crazy-go-nuts tomato.  Smarter people than me have even talked about the appeal…

“It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.”
– Lewis Grizzard

On the other hand, a bad tomato can send you reeling.  It will ruin your entire salad, right down to the cucumber.  You know the kind… pale and tasteless with that incomparable texture… mealy or something.  Enough to make the Jolly Green Giant cry….

But not a Veg.  The tomato is a fruit you know.  It was first born in South America, and was spread around the world following the Spanish colonization of the Americas.

They can be social….
Why did the tomato go out with a prune?
Because he couldn’t find a date!

Sometimes problematic…..
How do you fix a broken tomato?
Tomato paste!

Very refined…
Why did Mrs. Tomato turn red?
She saw Mr. Green Pea!

…and modest….
Why Did The Tomato Blush?
Because he saw the salad dressing.

So there you have it.  The versatile tomato.  You say toe-MAY-toe…  I say toe-MOTT-toe….

Coming soon…. to a garden near you.

Every morning it was the same thing.

Stanley and Eugene headed for their daily collision…. neither one willing to give way.  Yes, today was no different from the rest.   They would surely cannon in to one another….. yet again.

For the past 28 years, six days a week, they met at the same corner of Broad and East Bay Streets.  Yes, every morning at exactly 7:43,  the impact occurred.  It was no longer an accident waiting to happen, but clearly a planned event, and a dag-nabbing waste of steaming hot coffee.  Not to mention the dry cleaning bills that would ensue.  And the embarrassing coffee stain, in the lap of their pants, each and every work day.  Besides all of that, it hurt like holy heck.

It made no difference.  They stayed on their respective paths of destruction… set in their ways, unable to yield.

Over and over, they seemed to take pride in the fact that they coined the phrase… “So we meet again.”

“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.”
– Albert Einstein

Well, that’s a good thing, I’ll tell you.  Because on your birthday, all sorts of things happen.  If it all converged at once… holy smacker-ollies….

There were gargantuan biscuits, sock monkey games and puzzles, a surprise fly-in visitor from the North (and we are NOT talking Sarah Palin, or Santa Claus…), the best dang Flounder I’ve ever eaten, and a birthday cake and candle… without the cake.  It was a…..Dog-walking, honeysuckle-sniffing,  movie-watching, sun-shining,  kind of day.  And of course, a Royal-pain-in-the-butt Wedding….

I’m another year older.  Another year wiser?  Well, I wouldn’t go THAT far….. but I’m older.  Count on it.   Einstein was a good counter.  Good at math too.  I like that guy.

Which reminds me, of another thing…when it comes to counting years……

There are three kinds of people in this world:  Those who are good at math, and those who aren’t.

😀  Thanks for all the well wishes today.  You all are great pals.  I can count on that too…..

I’m not even going to mention a certain wedding.  I am SO sick of hearing about the whole fiasco… I can’t believe I even mentioned the word today.  So never mind that.  Put it out of your head…… instead, think about this big cha-chinking  deal.  If there’s no place to park out front of the cathedral, will the gilded carriage have to find a meter?

The parking meter was invented in 1935 by Carl C. Magee  in Oklahoma City, OK.  The first working model went on public display on this date, in 1935, inspiring immediate debate over the pros and cons of coin-regulated parking.   It was a heated, heated, heated topic, I’ll tell you.  Punches were thrown.  Hair was pulled.  There was name-calling.  The first meter wasn’t installed until July 16, as a result.  The brainiac was a guy named Carlton Cole “Carl” Magee.  He was, of all things….. an American lawyer, and a publisher.

By the time Magee went to Oklahoma City to start a newspaper, the Oklahoma News, his new hometown shared a common problem with many of America’s urban areas — a lack of sufficient parking space.  You see, there was a rapidly increasingly number of automobiles crowding into the downtown business district each day.  Not only in OK City, but….. as mentioned….. all freakin’ over the place.   Asked to find a solution to the problem, Magee came up with the Park-o-Meter.   Ta-Da.  Pretty smack dabbin’ really.  Put a coin in to park HERE, otherwise, be on your merry way.  Don’t do it and you get a tickey-tickey.

Inventions go like that.   A need and demand forces a solution.

It brings about change……….

Arrrrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Again, WHAT is wrong with me?  WHAT?

Oh, how I loved Kindergarten.  From my writings here, I’ve come to find out that many people did not “have” Kindergarten when they were small.  I am sorry for that sad, sad, fact about your 5th or 6th year here on this planet.   From German to English, it literally means Children’s Garden….  what could be snap-happier than that?

There was a little boy in my class…. Tommy Trick.  I thought Tommy was as cute as could be.  He had really long eyelashes and he didn’t know bunny-ear over bunny-ear….  so I often got the high-sign to help him tie his shoes.  He smelled good and always had squeaky-clean matching clothes.  I wonder what ever happened to Tommy and his impeccable style….

My Kindergarten teacher was Mrs. Eckert.  She was the most wonderful lady.  As sweet and gentle as dew drops on the morning grass, I’ll tell you.  She was very soft spoken and moved about the classroom with purpose.  She smelled good too. Like cookies.  I was fond of Mrs. Eckert…  I wonder what ever became of her.  My guess is, by now, she has passed.  She seemed really, really old when I had her for a teacher…. she was probably 38, or something….

Then there was nap time.  I think I loved it, most of all.  We had to bring in beach towels.  When it was time to nap, Mrs. Eckert would pull down all the shades in the classroom.  We’d roll out our little towels on the floor and had to be still and quiet.  I think I fell asleep more often than not.  At the end of the nap, one person would come around and tap our shoulders to rouse us.  This person was the Waking Prince (or Princess).  After we woke and rolled up our mats, we’d each get a cookie.  Again, one person got to hand them out….. the Cookie Fairy.  I liked being the Waking Princess and the Cookie Fairy.

We had other little treats throughout the half-day.  It seems like there were always fresh cut flowers in the classroom….. seems like it.   There was Story time.  Drawing.  Games.  I’m telling you, this should have carried over to other grades…. like all the way through college if you ask me.

The world might be a nice place if we took naps, and ate cookies right after.  And helped each other with bunny ear over bunny ear….

Hubert didn’t realize the importance of being ernest.  The joke he had played on Simon was all in good fun, he thought.  Filling Simon’s Lube Can with Olive Oil was supposed to be a harmless piece of mischief.

But now it seems that Simon had an insatiable appetite for Sugo alla Bolognese with Fettucini.  He wanted to change his name to Simone’, for crying out loud.  The little robot even went out and bought a black beret, and a red and white striped shirt.  Horizontal stripes.

Hubert felt just awful.  Try as he may, he couldn’t figure out how to make this up to his little buddy Simon.

Simon just keeps saying, “Ciao, Ciao.  Ciao, Ciao.” over and over again….

Oh, what a tangled web we weave…..when first we practice to deceive…..

There’s an awful lot to be said for a good cliche’….  in a pinch…. they always come through.

Make no bones about it.  I normally keep my nose to the grindstone.   But cliche’s can make you as happy as a clam.

Yes, it is probably because every dog has his day.  But there could be a change of heart.   To make a long story short….
if you feel you are at wit’s end, get a hold of yourself. You don’t want to lose your marbles. Otherwise, you may find you are between a rock and a hard place.

As they say… the wheel is turning but the hamster is dead.

But don’t be as thick as a brick. We all know….there’s more than one way to kill a cat than to drown it in cream.

Oh…. what do I know. Foolish me.
I’ve always got my head in the clouds…..

“But the fool on the hill,
Sees the sun going down,
And the eyes in his head,
See the world spinning ’round.

Well on the way,
Head in a cloud,
The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud
But nobody ever hears him,
or the sound he appears to make,
and he never seems to notice…

But the fool on the hill……”

-Beatles

Today is Shirley MacLaine’s Birthday.  She’s 77. (1934)  But is she really?  She believes in reincarnation.  If fact, I think she’s talked about several of her past lives in some of her books.  I’ve seen her on TV, over the years, talking about some of those lives.  So, I guess this birthday is for her current body.  But does she keep the same birth date… that is… April 24th… from life to life?  I wonder about these things.

If this is so…. she could be  St. Vincent De Paul (1581) or Robert Bailey Thomas (1766), the publisher of the Old Farmer’s Almanac.  Or really, a myriad of others.  She says that three quarters of the Earth’s people believe they have lived before and will live again……thereby enabling their Soul’s journey a continuous learning experience.  I think it is mostly a belief in Hinduism, Buddhism, and  Taoism.  It is a very interesting postulation.

All of this may totally explain Deja Vu.

She can’t be Barbra Streisand (1942).  Not Kelly Clarkson either (1982).  Both still alive.  But back to how it all works.

Today I had a ham sandwich with mustard on it.  I swear I had tasted that same exact mustard before………………
.
.
Dijon Vu.

“In your Easter Bonnet, with all the Frills upon it……”

Now there’s a good movie for you.  The Easter Parade.  Judy Garland.  Fred Astaire. Dancing. Love.  (HUGE Spoiler………….. Happiness Abounding in the End. )

But wait…. there’s more…….  The Easter Parade is quite the American Cultural Event.  Mostly associated with the BIG affair in NYC…. it started in the late 1800s.  By 1947 it had over one million participants.  Honest to Solid Chocolate Bunnies, I’m telling the truth.  These days, it isn’t quite as popular.  But the parades still abound all over the country.  In fact, we have us one, right here, in little ol’ Charleston, South Carolina.  Spiffers, I’ll tell you.  Spiffers.   I tried to enter this year.  I showed up early….. in my sock monkey hat, t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops.  Ready to go, because Heaven knows…. I LOVE a PARADE.

Very few words to describe it, but I’ll try.  Banned.  Shunned.  Rejected.  Ejected.  Not up to Bonnet-Snuff.  When it comes right down to the bottom of the Easter Basket…..I think I needed more Frills Upon IT.

I went home and colored eggs.  Thinking back…. I probably should have worn my Bunny Hat.  The one with the big pink floppy ears.     Next Year!

Starting them young. Not so happy about it......

Easter Parade

by Irving Berlin

Never saw you look quite so pretty before
Never saw you dressed quite so lovely what’s more
I could hardly wait to keep our date this lovely Easter morning
And my heart beat fast as I came through the door

In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it
You’ll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade

I’ll be all in clover and when they look you over
I’ll be the proudest fellow in the Easter parade

On the Avenue
Fifth Avenue
The photographers will snap us
And you’ll find that you’re
In the rotogravure

Oh, I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet
And of the girl I’m taking to the Easter parade