Honk if You Like It

Driving through town and spotted this lovely vignette. Weeping willows over the bridge cried out to be memorialized. So here they are in all their delicate spring beauty.

The only thing missing from this picture is a bride in white and a swan. The first was not available. The second, well, there was this attractive substitute waddling around.

Hey, good looking. Say Cheese !

"The Surrey With the Fringe on Top"-Rodgers and Hammerstein

Day two of All Spring, All Week,...um...week.

This weeping cherry tree reminded me of those fancy ruffled umbrellas. For some reason the birds love this little tree. There is always one perched on the top, as this one is, singing it's little birdy heart out. All kinds of unusual things sprout up under this tree. Apparently birds let more than just notes fly, if you catch my drift.

Up close and personal, sans bird.

That's french for without bird. I'd write more in french, but it's harder than one might expect to squeeze Crepe Suzette into an entry.

"Spring is in the air, every sight and every sound"

It's the week before Easter, and spring is popping up everywhere. I am compelled to show what is around every corner. I apologize in advance. I am a sucker for this sort of stuff.

The path through the woods crowded with purple vinca.

Up close and personal.

Exuberant on the hillside.

Planted in my garden, it promptly dies. "No perfect borders for me," it cries. "Give me freedom, or give me death."

Hmmm, seems like I've heard that somewhere before.

Exploding Heads

I'm tooling around the net looking for something interesting to catch my attention. Okay, interesting according to my nerdy side. I ran across this whole nerdisphere. It being Thursday, which has nothing to do with anything, I decided it was power moves day. Not just any power moves, animal power moves.



I think I related to this because my house has been invaded with stink bugs. No, not Uncle Harry and Aunt Sue. Real bugs, the ones that stink if they get smashed. They were probably number eleven on the list.

Worth a thousand words

Hold your breath and click here:!!??!!


Ahhhhh.....

Speaking of second childhoods...

Some people will do anything for a buck. When it's something strange, by the second smartest person you've never met, it can be pretty disconcerting.



But who am I to judge. Metal heads, unite.

BLT to go

Say you're not really Irish, but you just like the camaraderie of sipping green beer in an Irish pub on St. Patty's day. Not a real Irish pub mind, but one of those pseudo kind, with leprechauns and shamrocks everywhere.

Perhaps you sipped a few shots of Jameson between the glasses of Guinness. Now your head hurts. A Lot. Obviously you need a hang-over cure.

There are all the traditional ones; drink water to replenish fluids, eat bananas to re-balance potassium, pop a few aspirins, or eat a bacon sandwich. That's right, a big greasy bacon sandwich. According to a 2009 UK study, bacon sandwiches helped drinkers recover from hangovers.

Just reading the cure made me throw-up. I feel better already.

"Éirinn go brách,"

Which in Irish (Gaelic) means "Ireland Forever." It was an Irish blessing used to express allegiance to Ireland. According to Wiki anyway.

Everybody's a little bit Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Here's to a special friend who actually is;Irish that is, to the bone. Quaff one for me ducks.

Irish Coffee

• 1 cup freshly brewed hot coffee
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 jigger Irish whiskey (1 1/2 ounces or 3 tablespoons)
• Heavy cream, slightly whipped

Directions

Fill footed mug or a mug with hot water to preheat it, then empty. Pour piping hot coffee into warmed glass until it is about 3/4 full. Add the brown sugar and stir until completely dissolved. Blend in Irish whiskey. Top with a collar of the whipped heavy cream by pouring gently over back of spoon. Serve hot.

"Sweating to the oldies"- Richard Simmons

I'm not above promoting the creativity of friends and family. In this case, it's a wannabe commercial created by relatives of relatives, who live in Canada. I thought it was funny. I hope it wins. It gets my vote. I had to change the name to protect the not guilty. It was attracting too many...uhm...well you know.



But frankly, I never want to see this much snow again except in the movies.

Listen Up

Okay, say you're a young twenty something learning to ski. You've been at it most of the day and your weary body longs to return to the lodge. You get to the bottom of the hill, and the lift lines are the shortest you've seen them all day. Your greedy brain urges one more quick trip.

Not yet having learned to listen to your body, you are twenty after all and invincible, you jump on the lift. Halfway down the hill, your legs give out, you tumble over, and your break-away bindings don't. Break-away that is. Your knee is wrenched so badly, not only are you done skiing for the weekend, you're done for the winter.

Fast-forward some years. Okay lot's of years. It's been a gloomy winter. You cannot wait to get outside for a long walk. About a mile down the path, that same pesky knee suggests it's done for the day. But the sun is shining, a warm breeze is blowing, and everything smells deliciously fresh. A half mile later, the knee stops working.

The moral of the story? Listen to your body. Go back to the lodge and have a beer and some wings.