In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
The other day I was thinking about how there are quite a few songs about specific women, such as Michelle, Louise, and Clementine. That got me to wondering what songs do I know that are about particular men. It wasn't easy. I didn't want to Google the answer, so the Husband ( My Guy ) kindly helped me come up with this list. Johnny Angel The Boy from Ipanema Johnny B. Goode Wedding Bell Blues (Remember Bill?) When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again Go Down Moses Hit the Road Jack Rocky Raccoon Louie Louie Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy Frere Jacques Shaft John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt There sure are a lot of songs about particular John's. What's that all about? If I look up Shaft, will I find out his real name is John. To check out other bloggers with lists of 13, head to Thursday 13 . P.S. John Shaft, by golly!
"Talky. talky. talky. talky. talk. . ." That's the first line to "Happy Talk" from South Pacific . So the Husband and I thought. This afternoon we learned the first line goes like this: "Happy talk, keep talking happy talk. . ." Yup. We have sung "Taw-kee, taw-kee, taw-kee talky talk" for over 50 years individually, and 24 together. Not to say we listened to the song yesterday. Twice. The Husband says he's shattered that the lyrics aren't "talky, talk." Go ahead: giggle, snort, snicker, chuckle, belly laugh. We have. "Talky, talky . . ." REDWOODS, WATERFALLS, and HISTORIC KILNS One of our day trips during the Husband's birthday week in June was an adventure with good friends Missus and Mister H to Limekiln State Park in Big Sur, along the California coast, about 50 or so miles south of Carmel. (Pshew, that was a long sentence.) The park was a first visit for us all. We picnicked and hiked
Day's End. That was how it looked yesterday at sunset. Disaster Rose. What do you think of that for a protagonist's nickname? David. I've always liked that name. Solid, cheerful, thoughtful. Dave. Davey. The Husband's surname means son of David. Debonair. Cary Grant. George Clooney. The Husband. Humor is part of my definition of debonair. Dig it. Can you dig it? Hands, please, who said this once upon a time, with a straight face. I do like to dig in the yard, and I do a decent job of digging, I like to think. Meet John Doe. Recently the Husband and I watched Meet John Doe , a 1941 Frank Capra film starring Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck with Walter Brennan. Good trembles into arms of Evil so it may survive, but eventually Good realizes it is not Evil and scrambles back onto the path of light. The name John Doe doesn't make sense to me. I understand that it refers to a male with an unknown identity. Shouldn't it be John Bu
I like wandering the back roads of our area. I like looking at the clock and seeing that it's not even 11:00 a.m. and I've accomplished a lot and if I want to accomplish more, I can. I like moving things around in a room to find the sweet flow to it. The Husband and Molly the Cat, not so much. The Husband doesn't care for all the lifting, carrying, pushing, and pulling. I tell him it's exercise. Missy Girl simply dislikes the change, at first. I wish I could do all the moving with my mind. Isn't there a term for that? Yesterday I decided to move my sewing stuff to the other side of L Studio, and, in so doing, I discovered the fabric for my tunic that I've been wanting to sew for two years, but couldn't because, yeah, I had no idea where the material had gone. Hee-hee. DRUMMER DUDE I like the all-of-a-sudden, off-the-top-of-our heads, impromptu moments with the Husband. The other day I was throwing stuff in the green organic waste can
Molly and I are joining forces today because of whatnot and this. Maybe it'll be a regular thing. We shall see. Missy Girl wants you to know that today's post is also her Molly's Monday #15. Molly the Cat: Speaking of seeing, Missus Lady watched a hummingbird in the front yard yesterday. Szzzzz. Szzzzzz. I love watching hummingbirds, but I missed out because I was napping. "You snoozed, you lost," Missus Lady said when she wouldn't let me go out as she was coming in the front door. Speaking of snoozing, this is what I found when I got back to my desk yesterday evening. The Husband wondered why Missy Girl just didn't go under the table if the light was too much for her. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Did I Say You're a Troll? Molly the Cat: The other day I overheard Missus Lady telling Hero Man about a post she was following at a local Facebook group. There was one part that was miao, miao. Human #1: Of course you won't believe me. You already think
The Beatles! Need I say more? I didn't think so. "We are just a band that made it very big. That's all," said John Lennon on Disc 1 of The Beatles Anthology . I'm glad The Beatles happened during my lifetime, in particular, my youth. John and Ringo were born in 1940, Paul in 1942, and George in 1943. They had a child's memory of WWII. In spite of (or because of) all the harsh stuff they may have experienced as children, they gave us beautiful lyrics and music. Thank you, The Beatles! By the way, have you heard their version of Besame Mucho from their younger years. Just put a pair of velvet pants on Paul. Gosh.