Old Songs

Stille Nacht Antique Music

They say marriages fall apart over three things: religion, money, and (un)faithfulness.

However, no one talks about the radio.

Let me assure you, while Krystal and I have no plans to divorce, the radio has been a source of tension for years.

We’ll be driving down the road and she’ll reach over and change the station, claiming “this music is too old.”

In fairness, some the music is, in fact, old.

No one would deny that “A Vesta was from Latmos Hill Descending” or the Kryrie Eleison from the Pope Marcellus Mass are old.

Even some jazz is old.

On a related note, I was saddened to hear of Tom Mallison’s passing. Many knew him better as Tom the Jazzman from his Public Radio show “An Evening with Tom the Jazzman.” I first heard his show many years ago on WJFF out of Jeffersonville, NY and later lived miles from his some station of WTEB New Bern, NC.

Anyway. What classifies as “too old” for music?

100 years?

50 years?

10 years?

1 year?

And, perhaps even more importantly, does music’s age influence its enjoyability?

I appear to have asked more questions than I’ve answered.

Ah well; such is the nature of things.

 


 

This post was written in response to a prompt from kelli over at kelliblogs. Do you have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

 

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My Own Devices

When the cat’s away the mice will get some cleaning done, maybe listen to a bit of NPR and a few classical pieces, and be otherwise productive play.

Smokey 27 July 2015

Last week, Ginjuh over at Ginger’s Grocery admitted her somewhat guilty pleasures when left to her own devices.

This week, I’m in the same predicament – sort of.

K’s schedule and mine are off-synch for a few days; I’ll be at home while she’s at work.

Then, she may or may not go out of town most of the day Saturday.

I always start with best intentions:

Do the Laundry

Do the Dishes

Bake a Pie

Work on Lesson Plans

Get some Groceries

Inevitably I fall foul of my baser nature:

Eat All the Junk Food

Watch all the Netflix

Read all the Books

Really though, is this last one so bad?

MST3K shirt detail

Take this weekend; I already know how it will pan out.

She’ll leave early in the morning; I’ll get up with her.

When she leaves, I’ll sit down to do some lesson plans.

I might actually start planning after an hour or so – you know, once I’ve gotten caught up on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and WordPress and my email.

Around lunchtime I’ll go and get something to eat – most likely a Little Caesar’s Hot-N-Ready Pepperoni and a liter of Wal-Mart brand Ginger Ale.

Don’t judge me, I have a coupon for free breadsticks.

Little Caesars Mascot

However, I can’t exactly work on school stuff with all the grease around, right?

I’ll just watch something while I eat.

and watch

and watch

and watch

Until it’s time for supper, in which case hey, I have half a pizza left over from lunch; no sense in letting it go to waste.

But you know, all that awful junk food is starting to upset my stomach.

You know what I’d like about now? A milkshake.

And guess what? It’s after 8:00, so milkshakes are half-price at Sonic!

Shall I get my normal Banana Cream Pie or shall I be a bit more . . . adventurous?

Check back on Sunday to find out what happened!


 

Have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

 

Don’t forget to follow me on:

Facebook – where I share news stories, articles from other blogs, and various and sundry miscellany that happens to catch my eye. It’s stuff you won’t see here! Well, mostly.

Instagram – where I show you my Life in Motion and share quotes and such. The widget only shows my last three photographs – don’t you want to see them all?

Twitter – where you can see my thoughts in 140 characters or less. Also, funny retweets.

In the Morning

Sunrise

 

Ding dong, dong ding
Hear the chimes ring
From the high tower
Hark to the hour

Roll over and turn off the alarm.

Westminster chimes, really?

Since when did they wake up anyone?

Oh well. Time to get up.

Head to the bathroom for morning ablutions

No shaving nicks – huzzah!

Breakfast of cereal and toast: raisin bran and rye.

Back to the bedroom to decide what to wear.

Will anyone notice yesterday’s clothes?

Walk out the door to

Wait. What?

Dress slacks and a t-shirt?

Inside, there’s cereal on the floor and bread in the microwave.

Touching a cheek to find shaving cream.

The clock reads 2:15 AM.

Sleepwalking again.

somnambulant promptThanks, Vanessa!

 


 

Have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

 

Don’t forget to follow me on:

Facebook – where I share news stories, articles from other blogs, and various and sundry miscellany that happens to catch my eye. It’s stuff you won’t see here! Well, mostly.

Instagram – where I show you my Life in Motion and share quotes and such. The widget only shows my last three photographs – don’t you want to see them all?

Twitter – where you can see my thoughts in 140 characters or less. Also, funny retweets.

Lessons in Adventuring

old lantern

This ten-minute free write from the Prompt Box came courtesy of @youarecarrying.

Simply tweet the word “inventory” and you’ll get a random list of objects.

 


 

The adventurer stands before his prize.

His long journey began many days ago, when he owned nothing but a shilling and a fused, ninety-ohm bedistor.

For months he wandered through hostile territory, fending off aggressive enemies and vicious woodland creatures, scavenging his defeated foes for more useful objects, and slowly building his private hoard of gold coins to finally purchase the shiny scroll allowing him to learn the spell permitting him to cast the Flexible Black Circle.

The spell granted him access to this room, cleverly hidden behind a false wall in a dusty closet. Rumor had it the owner of this house had been a skilled alchemist; what wealth he must have had on his person to hide himself here in a futile last stand!

He stoops to search the cloak wrapped round the dusty skeleton:

one gold coin and a new brick.

 

The controller nearly breaks as I throw it across the room.

I wasted a whole day for this!?

I could have been leveling up!

Inventory for Lessons in Adventuring

 


 

Have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

 

Don’t forget to follow me on:

Facebook – where I share news stories, articles from other blogs, and various and sundry miscellany that happens to catch my eye. It’s stuff you won’t see here! Well, mostly.
 
Instagram – where I show you my Life in Motion and share quotes and such. The widget only shows my last three photographs – don’t you want to see them all?
 
Twitter – where you can see my thoughts in 140 characters or less. Also, funny retweets.

Anytown, USA

anytown usa
dmaeducatorblog.files.wordpress.com

Thanks to Vanessa of Petal & Mortar for dropping a note in the prompt box!

Fading Gentility Prompt Box

Gentility

noun  |  gen·til·i·ty  |  \jen-‘ti-lÉ™-tÄ“\

1a :  the condition of belonging to the gentry

1b :  gentlefolk, gentry

2a (1) :  decorum of conduct :  courtesy

2a (2) :  attitudes or activity marked by false delicacy, prudery, or affectation

2b :  superior social status or prestige evidenced by manners, possessions, or mode of life

Signs run up and down the eastern seaboard:
 hidden to the average naked eye;
 revealed to those knowing the signs already.

Find a map: an honest-to-goodness paper 
 map stained with ketchup and mustard and grease
 and oil and the grit and grime of road trips - 
 not some satellite-produced, digitally-
 rendered version glowing on a glass-like 
 screen of modern technomancy.
 
Look at the names of counties and townships 
 and villages and roads, of lakes and streams 
 and rivers, of mountains and valleys 
 and other geographic terrain.

Pick a place at random: throw a dart, choose from a 
 hat, select a site with a nice-sounding name; 
 any place will do.
 
Visit the churchyard cemeteries: the old ones with 
 family plots marked out by mausoleums or low stone 
 walls or wrought-iron fences.
 
Open the phone book: few – if any – of the names 
 found engraved on these eternal monuments remain. 

Drive the roads: the ones with nearly unpronounceable 
 names or names that don’t sound like they look they 
 should. 

Ask the old timers and no two of them will agree 
 on how the name should be said. 

Look around:

 the brick buildings of the once-bustling downtown 
  with fading painted signage now converted into loft 
  apartments or the tourist-centered shops one finds 
  in any small town trying to regenerate before it 
  succumbs to the appeal and attraction of larger 
  cities or becomes boarded up all together

 the old houses too large for the lots they sit on 
  surrounded by smaller houses
  encroached on by modern buildings
  threatened by trailer parks
  pulled down by vines and weather 
  and ravages of time

Take it all in and consider it all together:
  the cemeteries,
  the names,
  the architecture,
  the decay,
  and the signs all point to one thing:
   the long, slow, inevitable decline 
    and fading away of a once-proud gentility.

 


 

Have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

 

Don’t forget to follow me on:

 
Facebook – where I share news stories, articles from other blogs, and various and sundry miscellany that happens to catch my eye. It’s stuff you won’t see here! Well, mostly.
 
Instagram – where I show you my Life in Motion and share quotes and such. The widget only shows my last three photographs – don’t you want to see them all?
 
Twitter – where you can see my thoughts in 140 characters or less. Also, funny retweets

May I Borrow a Cup of Sugar?

Phil, the preeminent Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge, prompted me to write about sugar.

I use sugar for two things: coffee and sweet tea.

Most Pennsylvanians don’t make sweet tea, so I’ve only had a few years to work on my “recipe.”

However, K says I make the best sweet tea; and no, she’s not just saying that.

So, how do I make my semi-legendary sweet tea? Like this:

Cup of SugarI store my sugar in a red canister with a spoon.

Thirteen spoons of sugar go into each batch of sweet tea.

This is the first time I’ve ever actually measured the amount of sugar I use.

By my best guestimate (and using a few converters on the internet), this equals approximately 220 grams of sugar.

Boiling Water for Tea

Mix this sugar into 8.5 cups boiling water.

Tea PitcherI always use this flowered pitcher.

This is our most-used wedding present.

Add two family-sized tea bags and let sit 45 minutes.

Transfer to a larger, refrigerator-safe and tea-appropriate container.

Top with cold water (about 4.5 cups) and mix thoroughly.

Refrigerate until ice-cold and enjoy!


Have a suggestion for a poem, photograph, or future post?

Drop a note in the prompt box!

Don’t forget to follow me on:

Facebook – where I share news stories, articles from other blogs, and various and sundry miscellany that happens to catch my eye. It’s stuff you won’t see here! Well, mostly.

Instagram – where I show you my Life in Motion and share quotes and such. The widget only shows my last three photographs – don’t you want to see them all?

Twitter – where you can see my thoughts in 140 characters or less. Also, funny retweets.

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