Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Back Attack - From May 21, 2012

It's been an interesting week, so far.  The other day, I was attacked by the propane tank I was putting in the trunk of my car, which resulted in this odd popping sound emanating from the front of my shoulder. It was kind of cool actually. I mean except for the excruciating pain that followed for a period...not to mention the semi-colon and a comma.  But I'm okay, I mean, as long as I don't use my right arm for anything.  It also makes it difficult to manipulate my mouse, which makes it difficult to type...which means I'm off the hook for at least another week.  Plus the mouse is pretty happy, as well.

Not to hog the injury spotlight, I should also mention that Z pulled her back out of whack over the weekend, as well. But, once again, she had no business bending over to pick up that grocery bag...even if it was an empty grocery bag. 

But the sliver lining is I was reminded of this little ditty from a few years back, so to speak, and thought I would take it out for another spin around the block...seeing as neither of us will be seeing the other side of the block for a few days, ourselves....

From May 21, 2012:

Back Attack











Z threw out her back on Saturday.

Yep…just got tired of it and put it out in the garage with the rest of the trash.

I told her that maybe she should have waited until she got the new one before throwing out the old one…but nope…out it went.

Actually, all kidding aside, she really did do something to her back. 

I’ve been warning her to be more careful. Not to take all those risky chances she's so fond of; but she doesn’t listen.  She just plows ahead and does crazy things like picking up that bottle of Clorox in the grocery store.

Yep….

So now someone's paying the price.

I know….

But I guess it could be worse.

I mean she could be screaming and moaning A LOT more than she is.

Which would be even more annoying.

So I’m dealing….

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Back To The Beach! - From July 23, 2012







My writer seems to have lost his way and stayed back in Ireland for awhile, which is a good place for writers to stay...especially ones  who have lost their way...if you get the drift of where I've drifted to.

So, as a result, I haven't been able to get things back on track to write about vacation.  I apologize for that but I can't be held responsible for the irresponsible, inconsistent, selfish behavior of writers. Especially this one, who seems to have a mind of his own. In any case, I'm looking into replacement writers, since no one is indispensable, let alone writers...let alone this writer.  I'm sure we'll all do just fine without him, not too mention save a fortune on gin and beer.

In the meantime, since I can't, as yet, relay the tale of our most recent expedition, I thought I'd tell you about the one from 3 years ago.  It's almost the same thing...I mean, if you replace my family members with Z's family members and switch out the lush green landscape and ancient ruins of Ireland with rich ocean blue, sand and the ancient ruins of the old miniature golf course...it's almost the same....

From July 23, 2012:

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Back To The Beach!








I guess the only bad things about vacations are that they end…much too quickly.

In the blink of an eye you’re settling in, unpacking your things, and in the next, you’re packing them back up and heading home.

Still, no matter how you slice it, a week is a week is a week. That doesn’t change, but I guess our perspective does.


The more we want to savor something—like that big pistachio cone I scored at the local ice cream joint—the faster it seems to melt away, even if we do try very hard to live in the moment.

I suppose if I had actually spent more time eating the thing than philosophizing about it, the ice cream would have melted more in my mouth than in the street. But that’s just how vacations go, and besides, how many times can I apologize to one crabby lady about ice cream dripping on her toes?

As has been our wont for a gaggle of years, Z and I headed back to the beach the Saturday before last, for our annual week of fun in the sun at the Jersey Shore. 

This year we were once again able to rent the house we had shared with a group of friends for more than a decade, but had to forgo, last year, because the friends scattered in other directions. We thought about taking it ourselves but it seemed silly to have an entire house for just us…especially since all we mostly do there is sleep, eat and shower…sometimes all at the same time.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Where’s The Pool? - From June 8, 2011





I can hear the quiet out there...plus my page view stats are way under the table...so before any more of you wander off to Dr. Oz's page of miracle cures and weight loss recipes, I thought I better put something up...old as it may be.

But as I've been saying, a lot of new folks missed out on most of these gems...and as for the old folks...well, if you're like me, you can't remember what you had for breakfast, let alone what you read 4 plus years ago.

So it's a "Win/Win" all around!

But I'm getting closer to unwrapping my brain and putting something new together about our Ireland trip.

This morning I actually opened my laptop and sat down to write...until I got distracted by a couple of e-mails and a Facebook post that offered to determine my "REAL" age.

It said I'm 34, by the way, which makes sense, except to my sometimes achy knees, which I don't  take seriously, since they're chronic complainers, anyway.

I don't know what scientific method they employ to determine such things...but here's the proof...so who am I to argue.


And now...on with the show....



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Where's the Pool?










Nat King Cole sang:

Roooooooll oooooout thooooose…lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer…

Those days of soda and pretzels and beer….

 

One of my all-time favorites because it always reminds me of one the best things about this time of year…Barbeques, hereafter referred to in the familiar tense as BBQs in order to save unnecessary key clicking, such as I just did in order to explain it to you.


EVERYONE loves a Barbe— BBQ, especially if they’re not the ones throwing it. 
All your friends and family are there.  Even friends of family or friends of friends of friends who have families are there, gathering out in the backyard. 

Sometimes, if you’re lucky and you have rich friends from Rye, you gather around a pool, or even in the pool.  If you don’t have rich friends you can gather around a picture of a pool. Or just talk about a pool you were once in.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

4th of July “Collection” of Retorts...again







We're back from the Irish Isle...and not a leprechaun to be found, but when you think of it, what sort of leprechaun would allow his or herself to be found...

And are there really any female leprechauns...and if not, why?

In any case, my brain is still having trouble catching up to my body to decide what I should have for lunch, much less ponder such a sensitive question.

In the meantime, I know it's been awhile, so to placate those of you who actually look forward to these things...at least until the meds kick in...here's something...brand new old...like for the 2nd or 3rd time, if you've been around for awhile. 

And if you haven't been around for awhile...then where the heck you been?

Anyway...it's the 4th of July so what better way to celebrate Independence Day than to independently post a re-do of a re-do! 

Hey...don't blame me...blame the Brits...they're pretty much responsible for everything!



From: 7/4/11

A Hometown 4th of July  (Click Click)

 

From 7/4/12

Firing Up for the Fourth of July (Click Click)

 


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Check out my new YA book “The Kingdom of Keys”

Available now at Amazon.com 


Like" the Retorts on Facebook 

Friday, June 19, 2015

In Search of Leprechauns





 
 
In the not too distant future, Z and I will be off in search of Leprechauns.

Those mischievous Irish rascals said to sneak about in the night, out of sight, creating havoc for one and all that happen to cross their paths, unsuspecting or not.

Which, to be honest, sounds a lot like the O’Toole Brothers, down the street, who tend to sleep on their front lawn most Saturday nights, so they shouldn’t be too hard to find.

But we’ll be looking for the genuine article; the wee folk with their pots of gold stashed where the rainbows end, on the Emerald Isle itself...home of my ancestors, or half my ancestors, on my father’s side.

I mean, all my ancestors on my father’s side...but none of the ancestors on my mother’s side...who come from Italy...so that would be half...in total...or thereabouts.

Oh, wait...that doesn’t include my grandma’s peeps....so maybe it is only half...or a quarter....or...

Yeah...confusing, I know.

But so is this whole ancestry thing.

Up til now, the only knowledge I had of my Irish ancestry was that my Grandpa Jim and Grandma Nellie spoke a little funny and, when they baby sat, liked to slip a bit of whiskey into my milk, just to settle me down and make sure I slept through the night.

Child Care 101, the Irish way.

But, if truth be told—or at least my version of the truth—back then, if information didn’t come to me in the form of a comic book, I didn’t much pay attention.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The Swoon of June




 
 
Not to repeat myself.

I mean, really...not to repeat myself.

But this June has been stupid.

Really stupid, actually.

It’s hot

It’s cold

It’s hot

It’s cold...again....

Just like my Aunt Gladys...at least according to my Uncle Pete.

Friday, June 12, 2015

For No Reason






 
There are a lot of reason for a lot of things.

None of which I need to go into now.

What...?

I need a reason?

If you ask me...there are way too many reasons...many of which don’t make any sense.

Which is just plain unreasonable...at least in my opinion.

But people like to have a reason.

They even reason that they need a reason...just to do anything....within reason of course.

And I think that’s just...wrong.

What...again...you expected me to say something else.

Why?

I mean I could have...if I wanted...but I didn’t...and that’s all you need to know.

If for no other reason than, I said so.