THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

So, it's Friday, how you feeling about that?

Ah, well, okay.

While she's busy, for the rest of you Gentle Readers I shall present a montage of mirthfulness.

Hopefully.

So there you go.

I hope your funny bones have been titillated.

Now I want you to tear into this weekend with terrific tenacity but if you thirstily tope too much at the tavern, take a taxi home and arrive triumphant.

Oh, and always remember to keep on laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(oh, not again)

A NEW ANTHEM

I must thank Mr. Y.P., also known as Mr. Pudding, from the blog Yorkshire Pudding for making me aware of Imelda May.

She is a wonderful Irish singer and a song she released last year may be the song of the ages for our New Age.

Here it is.

TOMATO, TOMAHTO.

People ask compulsive bloggers (like me, for instance) how they can keep on day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, thumping away at our keyboards.

And more curiously, where do you get your ideas?

Some people travel widely in their home area armed with a camera.

I used to do that and I still occasionally sally forth looking for inspiration.

But in recent months I've become more and more of a hermit . . . well, not totally because SWMBO is here, too.

So the ideas pop up closer to home.

Like today, for example, from a grocery bag.

A bag from Trader Joe's.

As I was folding it up I noticed this on the bottom.

First that made me think of my Internet friend Tess Kincaid, now living in London but still a huge fan of, as she puts it, a puddle of ketchup.

Wait, isn't it catsup?

Fittingly, the Trader Joe's empire used a cat to explain.

And that led me to think of the old "you say tomato, I say tomahto" tune.

It was originated by George and Ira Gershwin for the 1937 movie Shall We Dance, featuring an amazing dance on roller skates by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

Take a listen and a look and, please, watch to the end.

Now do you see how my blog posts arrive?

RANTING

Allow me to rant a little.

It's about the Weather Gods and their lying blasted radar.

Here's a screen grab of what they say is over my area as I am writing this.

That big yellow blob is pretty heavy rain and the green areas are somewhat lesser rain.

Now if you look up at the top of that picture you may be able to make out the words Prescott Valley.

Here's a closer view.

Now I live just below that winding line at the top of this picture, which is a highway.

The radar says there's pretty heavy rain falling on me right now.

I didn't see any outside my window so I went out to see if my vision was failing me.

Here's my view to the south.

Here's my view to the north.

And here's my view straight up.

See any raindrops on my lens?

Me neither.

Grrrrrr.

I know.

I'm old.

And I'm starting to sound like the guy yelling "Hey!  You kids get offa my lawn!"

But Jeeze.

Can't I get a little honesty from the Weather Gods?

YUP, IT'S A MILLION SELLER

As I was semi-preparing our evening meal awhile ago I began to sing an old song from my childhood.

But I forgot a couple of lines so, as is my wont, I made them up.

(Just think the verse of "You Are My Sunshine".  If you're old enough.)

The other night, dear,

As I lay sleeping

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

But when I woke, dear,

I clutched my pillow,

And it sure doesn't have your charms.

Hello, Nashville.

I'm on my way.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

I can remember the days when I could jump around like that.

I think.

Not about the jumping.

About the remembering.

Ah, yes, the good child.

You know who you are.

Well, Gentle Readers, it is time once again for me to bid you a beautiful, bountiful, benevolent, braggadocious weekend.

And never, ever forget to keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(oh, man)

THE LAST GIRL STANDING

After many years of being owned by cats, we have decided that when our last one crosses the Rainbow Bridge, that will be all.

Here is our last one.

The lovable Muggles, in black and white.

She has always favored SWMBO but she's taken to my pettings in recent days.

And without Blackwell to chase her, she's venturing out into the house more often, instead of just holing up on or under Judy's bed.

It's coming a bit late in her life.

She's 15 years old now.

But, after going through a health scare a couple of years ago she now seems healthier than ever.

And she talks more, DEMANDING that I pet her whenever I come near.

She has a loud raspy voice these days.

But she's still as soft and lovable as ever.