Squiggles ... and Giggles: Summertime Blues

The hardest part about S&G ... aside from YOUR struggling through what I’ve written ... is THE BEGINNING, that is, how and where do I begin?

I’ve said it before, and it bears repeating ... I sit down at the keyboard on Friday evening ... and I don’t know whether to start at the beginning and try to find my way forward ... or start at the end and work my way backward.

The alternative, of course, is to start in the middle and work in both directions.

-S&G-

Another possibility, I suppose, would be to start earlier in the week ... thus avoiding the Friday evening panic attack over having nothing to say ... or, worse, waking up on Saturday morning with the realization that I forgot to write anything the night before.

Been there, done that. And, believe me, that’s real panic.

-S&G-

In any event, here I am on a Friday night ... racing the clock. Fortunately, it has given me a head start (I need all the help I can get). Oops! There it goes ... that blasted alarm.

More later.

-S&G-

LATER ... You know you’re a Floridian if ... A good parking place has nothing to do with distance from the store, but everything to do with SHADE. - courtesy of HELEN (Florida)

-S&G-

THANK GOODNESS for those who find time to respond to S&G. Their e-mails really help to keep me going ... even if my slowness in responding sometimes would indicate otherwise. Those e-mails are like breaths of air ... and (puff-puff) I really need that.

-S&G-

LOREE (Kansas) liked last week’s poem ... "Brittle Poems" ... which mentioned, among other things, catching fireflies and stashing them in a jar. Reminded Loree of her great-granddaughter who, when she visits, usually has a jar with her ... and spends a lot of time chasing down bugs of all kinds:

"Her last visit produced eyes as big as saucers, and a need for a jar, since she had forgotten her own. So excited she could barely talk, she came running in, describing this HUGE bug she needed the jar for.

"Turns out it was one of those shells that locusts leave behind, clinging to a tree or whatever.

"That reminded me of what I used to use them for. I could spend hours on the ground, laying out a farm with twigs, and then rounding up those locust shells for cows! One of my favorite toys (or games, if you prefer) was doing that!

"Can you imagine a kid in this day and age taking off the earphones and putting the I-Pod away, to go build a dairy farm with twigs and locusts?"

-S&G-

REMEMBER WHEN? ... You got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped without asking ... all for free, every time. And you didn’t pay for air ... and you got trading stamps to boot! - courtesy of WALT (Ohio)

-S&G-

PROFESSOR SQUIGGLEE ... got one response to his request for a show of hands last week ... and, if you read the "footnote" that was added later ... decided that makes it unanimous ... right? Sorry, to find out WHAT was unanimous, you’ll need to backtrack to that installment ... and don’t forget to scan down to OOPS!

-S&G-

MUCH LATER ... I just realized that ... providing I find some way of pulling this installment all together ... and the old computer is still wheezing but working ... it will be posted on July 25.

The significance of that? Well, look at the calendar. It means that only four months from this very morning ... we’ll hop of bed and go running downstairs in our pajamas (be careful not to trip) ... to see what Santa has left under the tree for us.

Oh, I hope you’ve been good ... and you get what you want. Me? I’d like to get EVERYTHING ... but I know there’s not enough room under our tree for all that stuff ... so I’d gladly settle for a winning lottery ticket.

Which reminds me ... one of my sons keeps reminding me that buying a lottery ticket doesn’t materially improve my chances of being The Big Winner. Still ...

-S&G-

TODAY’S POEM ... Let’s not get involved in a discussion of memory (I think mine’s around here someplace ... but I’m beginning to wonder) but I know ... those of you with any kind of memory will recognize having seen this poem before. I hope you won’t mind my sharing it with you just one more time. It seems so timely. This one was also originally published in Capper’s:
　
SUMMERTIME BLUES

I've got those
low-down,
good for nothin'
summertime blues.
My handkerchief
has wilted,
my shorts have
turned to glue,
my socks have
already melted
and run down
into my shoes.
Oh, I've got 'em bad,
as bad as they can be,
those prickly-pested,
heat infested,
good for nothin'
summertime blues.