Mr. Bojangles

Whenever I watch him skate this tune gets inside my head.~~~~~~

Nitty Gritty Dirt Band ~~~~~~

KNEW A MAN BOJANGLES AND HE'D DANCE FOR YOU IN WORN OUT SHOES WITH SILVER HAIR A RAGGED SHIRT AND BAGGY PANTS THE OLD SOFT SHOE HE JUMPED SO HIGH HE JUMPED SO HIGH THEN HE LIGHTLY TOUCHED DOWN

MISTER BOJANGLES MISTER BOJANGLES MISTER BOJANGES DANCE

I MET HIM IN A CELL IN NEW ORLEANS

I WAS DOWN AND OUT

HE LOOKED AT ME TO BE THE EYES OF AGE

AS HE SPOKE RIGHT OUT

HE TALKED OF LIFE TALKED OF LIFE

HE LAUGHED SLAPPED HIS LEG A STEP

HE SAID HIS NAME BOJANAGLES

THEN HE DANCED A LICK

ACROSS THE CELL

HE GRABBED HIS PANTS FOR A BETTER STANCE

THEN HE JUMPED SO HIGH

HE CLICKED HIS HEELS

THEN HE LET GO A LAUGH

LET GO A LAUGH

SHOOK BACK HIS CLOTHES ALL AROUND

HE DANCED FOR THOSE AT MINSTREL SHOWS

AND COUNTRY FAIRS

THROUGHOUT THE SOUTH

HE SPOKE WITH TEARS OF FIFTEEN YEARS

HOW HIS DOG AND HIM

TRAVELED ABOUT

THIS DOG UP AND DIED

HE UP AND DIED

AND AFTER TWENTY YEARS HE STILL GRIEVED

HE SAID I DANCE NOW AT EVERY CHANCE IN HONKY TONKS

FOR DRINKS AND TIPS BUT MOST THE TIME I SPEND

BEHIND THESE COUNTRY BARS

FOR I DRINKS A BIT

HE SHOOK HIS HEAD AND AS HE SHOOK HIS HEAD

I HEARD SOMEONE ASK PLEASE

Stupor Bowl

Monday is a work day that comes right after Sunday - all the time. Some things never change! So why?? did I let someone talk me into going to a sports bar to eat, drink watch the game and drink some more. I was weaving on the way out the door. I had my desiganated driver. I alone am responsible for my head (it still aches), my 4 hours of sleep time (I need my sleep) and all that spicy edible finger food I stuffed in the pie hole (oh thank you for Zantac).

Right now I'm sitting bleary eyed and in a half-stupor typing away at this machine with the really bright screen that is causing me night blindness. I'm tired, cranky and still in a stupor from lack of my beauty sleep. I have posts to publish (should have been done this morning) but couldn't drag my weary body out of bed on time. My spell checker refuses to work - so accept the mistakes.

I am thankful the super bowl only comes once a year. Next year I will be better prepared and take the day off to sleep it off or practice some much needed self control and refuse those two for one drinks.

Who won?

5AM. The click, click, click sound scraped across the hardwood floors, a sure sign that Maggie needed her morning relief. If I didn't act promptly there would be a puddle on the kitchen floor. She no longer barks when she wants out she just paces or runs into the doors and walls. Her mind once sharp and devious is now an empty void. She will turn 18 this summer and for a dog I believe that is an amazing feat. We put up with her mistakes, endless pacing and her forgotten memories because she is a part of the family and I love her dearly. Hubbies verdict is still out on that one but he does clean up after her. Our house has become throw rug city to catch the drips and drops.

Reluctantly, I dragged my weary body out of bed. Sunday morning my only day to sleep in and I have to walk the dog. I grabbed my robe and we trotted every so slowly to the front door. I always don the robe when I walk her out front - never know when one of those pesky neighbors is walking the streets. She walked aimlessly around sniffing at the mailbox (still standing after Blanca's excursion) and the car tires. She did nothing. So we walked to the back yard and I plopped my still not awake mode body into my tropical colored Adirondack chair. The pink one is my favorite.

I sat there waiting for Maggie to do her business as she wandered aimlessly around the deck in search for the lawn. After a bit she found the grass and fell face first into it. The legs don't bend like when she was a puppy. In the morning they are stiff and disagreeable. She sat down under the Queen Palm like Fernando the Bull and smelled the roses. The roses for some unknown reason (lack of water) have all dried up and died. She sat there quiet and contented.

I looked at the sky and observed its odd shade of gray/pink. I heard birds chirping by the fence. And that was all I heard - no traffic sounds, no fire whistles, no horns beeping or loud music. I sat in the tropical pink Adirondack chair and Maggie sat on the grass just enjoying the peacefulness of a Sunday morning. What a great way to start the day. Thank you Maggie perhaps your mind is not total mush.

Fractured Fairy Tales

Once upon a time in the state of Florida everyone could keep their drivers license. You could be 90 something, with cataracts, two hearing aids a stroke victim survivor (left side still not movable) tremors and a menagerie of other obvious ailments BUT you can still drive that car. That car that is the size of a small bus. When you drive by we can barely see the top of your head over the steering wheel. Perhaps that is the reason red lights don't impress you - you can't see them. The neighbors pick up their mail at the post office due to mailbox upkeep. You can only buy so many replacement mailboxes per year. Norberto's tree on the corner has stopped a few cars and has the paint marks to prove it. Two years ago my metal basket ball hoop on the left of the driveway became one of your victims. I have black marks on my white garage door - I have left them there as a reminder of your driving skills. Large deep crevices in Joe's yard from the fire hydrant incident stir scar his yard. Sally's new trash cans brighten the culdesac on trash day. Mine are wheel-less thank you Blanca.

Yesterday was a little over the top - actually i'd say it was over the sidewalk and (almost) into my living room. I'm relaxing after a hard day at the office reading the paper drinking sweet tea when BAM. Amazing there you are for a neighborly visit right in my front yard a stones throw from my picture window on top of my newly planted yellow rose bush. No need to ring the doorbell. The crunch of tires on my paver stones has alerted me that you have stopped by. Stopped by in that big blue buick. How you traveled from your house to my house across a busy street in that big blue buick without getting hurt is amazing. I lost a rose bush, several brick pavers, a concrete birdbath, my newly planted sod and a few herbs in plastic pots.

I will mention the incident to your son and hope he can convince you to STAY off the roads and out of everyones yards. Please give up your license because the state of Florida will never ask you to turn it in. You don't belong on the road on the sidewalk or in my front yard. Take a bus a taxi or ask me to drive you. Please!!!

And they all lived happily everafter - when Blanca stopped driving at 95.

The Cat in the Hat is Fat

I read an article about fat cats - obsese cats. I own a fat cat, she's very fat - she's obese. She has this little tiny head and this humungous body. She reminds me of Marlon Brando. The article stated that it is unhealthy for cats to be fat -DUH. It's unhealthy for all of us to be fat.

They specified - NO Grazing. She's not a cow she's a cat. Apparently grazing means keeping the cats food bowl filled to the brim. When we plan to be gone for the weekend I use an automatic feeder that holds approximately a full bag of catfood. She generally eats the whole thing. We have left her alone for far too many weekends.

I have tried to cut back and feed her only twice a day but that makes her a very unhappy camper cat. She turns into a demon. She howls and swats at you when you walk by her. In the evening she jumps up in bed and bites your feet. She's evil. She demands her food and doesn't give up until she is satisfied. It's difficult to live with an unhappy camper cat. Try it and you will understand.

I switched her over to a lowfat catfood and that did not go over well. At first she refused to eat any of it and kept us terrorized for days. She finally ate some but lets us know (verbally) how displeased she was. We keep her food on the kitchen counter (some may see this as gross but we have two dogs) and she blocks the entry into the kitchen. She stands guard by the empty dish and smacks us with her sharp,sharp claws when we try to pass.

FEED ME. Life is easier when we cater to her wishes. I have told her many times that being fat will bring her to an early death but she ignores my advice. Let me rethink this problem - fat cat - early death....hhhhmmmm. I'm off to the pet store to buy a LARGE bag of cat food. I will fill her automatic feeder to the brim.