Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday Notes
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Shining, gleaming, streaming, waxen, flaxen
Growing up in central PA we had our choice of sports teams to root for. Either the Phildelphia teams: The Eagles and the Philles or the Pittsburgh teams: The Steelers and the Pirates. Most of the boys in our class were Eagles/Phillies fans. In an attempt to be be different, Frank was a Steelers/Pirates fan.
Troy Polomalou, Pro-bowl strong safety for the Pittsburgh Steelers also has a mass of luxuriant, black, curly hair.
Where am I going with this you ask?
I just wonder if, when Frank watches Troy make a tackle or run down the field with his locks flowing in the breeze, does he whisper to himself "his hair, his hair, his beautiful hair?"
As a bonus, watch as Troy gets tackled by his hair. He said it didn't hurt.
She asks me why
I'm just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night
Hair that's a fright
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why
Don't know
It's not for lack of bread
Like the Grateful Dead
Darling
Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen
Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair
Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my...
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair
I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy
Shining, gleaming, streaming
Flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka-dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied!
Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can
Then my hair's too short
Down to here
Down to there
Down to where
It stops by itself
They'll be ga ga at the go go
When they see me in my toga
My toga made of blond
Brilliantined
Biblical hair
My hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah I adore it
Hallelujah Mary loved her son
Why don't my mother love me?
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair
Monday, February 09, 2009
Notes from NJ
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
so betwixt the two, they licked the platter clean
Last week we got KFC.
Original chicken and two sides mac and cheese and coleslaw.
As usual, we ate in front of the TV.
Tom, who had imbibed several beers, became drowsy and passed out on the couch, leaving his plate of half-eaten food on the coffee table.
I was engrossed in a movie and wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings until I heard the unmistakable sounds of slurping.
I looked over and there was our cat Althea, precariously perched on the coffee table, madly licking away at the macaroni and cheese. I shooed her away and went back to watching my movie.
When the movie was finished I went to bed.
The next evening, while Tom and I were discussing our day, I told him how much Althea enjoyed licking the mac and cheese off his plate.
A funny look came over his face as he admitted that when he woke up in the wee hours and saw his plate of food still on the coffee table he proceeded to eat the rest of his dinner, cat spit and all!!
Monday, February 02, 2009
bring on the blender and the coffee makers
My mother tells a story of how when I was no more than 3 or 4 I disappeared from the backyard. She looked everywhere for me only to discover that I was over visiting the neighbor. He was up on a ladder, painting his house. He told my mother I was keeping him company. In reality, he was a captive audience. I was talking his ear off and most likely divulging family secrets.
Not so long ago, a co-worker made a pointed remark that I could "talk to a toaster". He was implying that I talk too much.
It is true.
My mother calls it "diarrhea of the mouth".
Ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you, that at the drop of hat I can and will talk for hours on any given topic, sometimes with little or no knowledge of the subject matter.
The other day I was challenged with a strange phenomenon.
It turns out I CAN control myself and not talk to every Tom, Dick or Harry.
I was in a social situation, sitting next to a person with whom I couldn't even bring myself to start a civilized conversation.
Of course it might have more to do with the fact that a toaster has more personality than this person.