Anyway, I looked through my files the other day and came up with some things which I thought seemed weird enough to be worth thinking about. Hence, here I offer some “Thoughts for Thinking,” in an attempt to provide some, perhaps pleasant, distraction from more serious matters. I hope you’ll find them to be that.
The other day, I ran across the notion that perpetual motion MIGHT be possible by strapping buttered toast to a cat’s back (butter side out) and tossing the cat into the air. Since the toast MUST land butter-side down, and the cat MUST land on its feet, what, therefore, MUST happen is that the assembled parts will rotate in such a way that the combination will spin forever, generating power. OR gravity will, in fact, be suspended and the array will simply float in space through eternity. Of course, I do NOT suggest that you try this experimentally. I suspect the ASPCA would find it an inappropriate use of a feline in an experimental situation.
I was surprised not too long ago, when Bonnie, Maggi, Brian and I went to a carefully “socially-distanced” dinner in honor of Bonnie’s birthday at the Joslyn Castle here in town. Now, given the location, it was, obviously, quite a fancy affair, one of a series of dinners they were sponsoring to attempt to maintain some income during the current pandemic. This one was set up with Spanish-themed courses with appropriate wine, and properly themed "dinner music" was provided. The music struck me as interesting because there was a cellist and an oboe player, which seemed a somewhat unusual choice of instrumentation and not exactly what one (at least I) would think of as particularly “Spanish.” It also struck me, as we were being seated at our table, that the musicians would almost certainly play Ravel’s Bolero, in spite of the fact that it was written by a Frenchman. And, as luck would have it, I was correct, it was played, in a somewhat shortened version from the full orchestral piece, and I am pleased to note that it actually worked much better than I would have thought, given the instrumentation available. In fact, I enjoyed it a lot, as did the rest of our party!
I was moved, a while ago, while seeking diversion from the news, to read The Ickabog, the book J. K. Rowling wrote for her children a good while back and which she released to the internet, then had published, fairly recently so that children could read it (or have it read to them) for some diversion during the current, rather depressing, times. I confess that, while it was NOT aimed at the 70+ crowd, I enjoyed it a good deal, but it got me to thinking that perhaps, if we are lucky, all of us can learn to grow from the recent experiences of our world; and, OUR Ickaboggles will be bornded into a world of reason, equity, peace, justice, and tolerance. If you don’t understand that thought, perhaps you should read the book, or, better yet, read it TO someone. I think this idea just MIGHT be worth pursuing.
Like a lot of people, I suspect, I watched more than one version of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol over the recent holiday season. So, when I saw this cartoon, I have to admit that it rather struck home:
Me: (Sobbing my heart out, eyes were swollen, nose red) …. “I can’t see you anymore. I am not going to let you hurt me like this again!”
Trainer: “It was a sit up. You did one sit up.”
Having plans sounds like a good idea until you have to put on clothes and leave the house.
It’s weird being the same age as old people.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be older…this is not what I expected.
Life is like a helicopter. I don’t know how to operate a helicopter.
Chocolate is God’s way of telling us he likes us a little bit chubby.
It’s probably my age that tricks people into thinking I’m an adult.
Marriage counselor: “Your wife says you never buy her flowers. Is that true?”
Him: “To be honest, I never knew she sold flowers.”
Never sing in the shower! Singing leads to dancing, dancing leads to slipping, and slipping leads to paramedics seeing you naked. So, remember…Don’t sing in the shower!
During the middle ages they celebrated the end of the plague with wine and orgies. Does anyone know if there is anything planned when this one ends?
I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say “Wow,” that many times in your first session but there you are…
If 2020 was a math word-problem, it would read something like this: "If you’re going down a river at 2 MPH and your canoe loses a wheel, how much pancake mix would you need to re-shingle your roof?"
I see people about my age mountain climbing. I feel good getting my leg through my underwear without losing my balance.
We can all agree that in 2015 not a single person got the answer correct to, “Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?”
So, if a cow doesn’t produce milk, is it a milk dud or an udder failure?
If you can’t think of a word, say, “I forgot the English word for it.” That way people will think you’re bilingual instead of an idiot.
I’m at a place in my life where errands are starting to count as going out.
Coronacoaster (noun): The ups and downs of a pandemic. One day you’re loving your bubble, doing work outs, baking banana bread and going for long walks and the next you’re crying, drinking gin for breakfast and missing people you don’t even like.
Don’t be worried about your smartphone or TV spying on you. Your vacuum cleaner has been collecting dirt on you for years.
I’m getting tired of being part of a major historical event.
I don’t always go the extra mile, but when I do it’s because I missed my exit.
How many of us have looked around during a family reunion and thought, “Well, aren’t we just two clowns short of a circus?”
At what point can we just start using 2020 as profanity? As in: “That’s a load of 2020.” or “What in the 2020.” or “Abso-2020-lutely.”
You don’t realize how old you are until you sit on the floor and then try to get back up.
We all get heavier as we get older, because there's a lot more information in our heads. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
This is the day dogs have been waiting for. They realize their owners can’t leave the house and they get them 24/7. Dogs are rejoicing everywhere. Cats, of the other hand, are contemplating suicide.
If you are trying to impress me with your vehicle it better be a food truck.
Who says rich people don’t have a sense of humor? As evidence of the fact that some do, I offer the Ferrari Bakery.
I’ll probably be back in a couple of weeks, when, perhaps, I’ll have found my missing brain cells.