LABOR DAY

 It's the first Monday in September.

The day celebrated as Labor Day.

Oh, no, no, no.

Not THAT kind of labor.

THIS kind:

A day when unions are celebrated thoughout America.

It dates back 130 years, to 1894 when President Grover Cleveland signed the Congressional act that made it a national holiday.

Earlier he had sent federal troops in to crush a strike in a town just outside Chicago and 12 workers were killed.

Some people say he signed the Labor Day act as a peace gesture toward the working class.

At any rate it's been a holiday and a three-day weekend ever since and for a long time seen as the end of summer.

And you know what that means.

"You never wear white after Labor Day."

So say the traditionalists, including my wife.

But that was based on the wealthy putting away their white gowns and suits in the Hamptons and returning to work in grimy cities.

Nowadays, with the advent of casual clothing year-round, that old rule doesn't hold to be true anymore.

At any rate, fire up the grills one last time and fix some burgers or hot dogs and enjoy the day.

But it's going to be near 90 degrees where I live so don't forget the ice cream!

STILL LIVES

One perfect apple.

Chive blossoms.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

It is such fun every week to try to come up with a new way to introduce our fun and frivolity Friday fanfare.

I think this week I will do it by thanking a mysterious but frequent contributor to the Comedy Bank.

She's a friend of a friend and I have never had direct contact with her, that I know of, but whose output is forwarded to me by my friend.

All clear now?

She will henceforth be known here as Constantly Chucklesome Carla.

Some of this week's potpourri have come, indirectly, from her so let's see what her sense of humor is like, shall we?

So that's it.

Thanks for Carla and all my other contributors.

It wouldn't be the same without you.

Now I expect all of you to labor to have a remarkable, long weekend.

MONDAY IS LABOR DAY!

Summer is (officially) over and Autumn is lurking, so they say.

Whatever is your wont, always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . . oooooh, sorry to disturb you . . . )

A BIT OF RAIN

 We had a wee tad of a sprinkle from the sky this afternoon so I thought I'd show it to you.

The Blue Cat looked a bit peeved to have rain falling on his face.

PIANO MAN

Back in the day I played piano.

Not like Billy Joel but I could tinkle a bit.

I started at an early age with the legend in our small North Dakota town, Sybil McDonald.

I believe she was born in Scotland but I can't be sure.

Nor do I recall how she wound up in Stanley, North Dakota.

But she was, if not the only, the most in demand piano teacher in town.

And I spent six or seven years taking lessons from her.

As well as reprimands.

See her teaching involved, first, scales to limber up your fingers.

And then classical music from sheet music or books with the notes on the pages.

You learned what those strange spots meant and how to play them.

There's a mnemonic to remember your E-G-B-D-F notes in a scale: Every Good Boy Does Fine!

So we studied and played, some of us better than others, for years.

I, on the other hand, learned how to make notes "blue" and the songs, well, "jazzier".

When I did it during a lesson it infuriated my teacher.

After I got out from under her, a bit later in life, I learned some simple boogie-woogie songs and one cold winter night in another town in North Dakota I played in a couple of bars and got drinks bought for me and a couple of girl friends.

Not girlfriends, mind you, but girl friends.

I've lost it all now.

A couple of years ago I looked at a piece of sheet music and realized that I had lost all of my knowledge about it and didn't have the faintest idea what those splotches on the page meant.

I could have not played anything from them if my life had depended on it.

I found I could still pick out a tune or two with one finger on a keyboard but all of my training and my "bar talent" had gone down a rathole.

So just to prove that my tale is true, here's a photo of me at the piano, playing from the notes, sometime probably back in the mid 1950's.

You can probably judge the era by my haircut and that antiquated television set next to me.

Ah, memories.

GEEZERDOM

In an email exchange with an aging friend of mine this morning, the word "geezer" came into play.

I've found in recent times that I use that word to describe either my (84 year old) self or my friends of the same approximate age.

It's not meant as an insult, rather an affectionate way to greet one another and acknowledge our years of accumulated wisdom.

All of which made me smile when I received this meme from my friend Wacky Wally (who isn't really wacky).

So that's my philosophical post for today.

I hope you fellow geezers enjoy it!

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

So how has your week gone, eh?

Oooohh, that good?

Well mine has been somewhat iffy.

I had a visit from my PT guy's boss lady and she wasn't thrilled with my progress so far.

You'd never guess what she wants me to do.

Stand up!

From a chair!

Without USING MY HANDS!!!

I tried telling her how old I was but that didn't cut any ice with her.

Lessee, we've had a few thunderstorms this week.

One of them knocked the power off for a few minutes.

Just long enough that I had to reset the clocks on the microwave, the stove, etc. etc.

Then this morning I noticed that one of them was reading "19:45" and I had to figure out how to reset it to 12-hour time.

So that's been my week, now let's see what's happening in the Comedy House.

Oh I should have known.

But that's what people are saying about some of the humor from my Comical Cartel.

Oh well, we'll just keep trying.

In the meantime, we wish all the rest of you would join us in having a perfectly phenomenal weekend.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . . oh, is it that time again . . . )