THE LITTLE TOY SOLIDER.

Monday again. We are edging into the latter days of January. Can it be that already a month in our New Year has slipped past? I now stand at the count down of day Eleven before my birthday. The day I slip into being very elderly. As I dance around the house singing my silly songs. I remind myself I need to start acting more serious. Wheeze and cough a little as I complain about the pains in my back. NOT!

I always have many random thoughts racing around in my head. But the last few days I have been thinking about growing up with a Mother who loved the written word. Read to us as children. She kept books in the house and loved poetry. This poem she use too recite when I was young. In doing a search on Google, my old friend, I came across a a remark about this poem. Calling it one of the saddest poems ever written. So for my Momma who have loved to have read this one more time. "Little Boy Blue," By Eugene Field.


Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,—
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true.

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there

.

Eugene Field
Born September 2, 1850(1850-09-02)
St. Louis, Missouri
Died November 4, 1895(1895-11-04) (aged 45)
Chicago, Illinois
Occupation American writer
Children Eugene Field, Jr.
Eugene Field, Sr. (September 2, 1850 – November 4, 1895) was an American writer, best known for his children's poetry and humorous essays.

THEY DIDN'T CALL MY NUMBERS.

Sunday morning is back once again. She's cold but the snow is almost gone. Very slight patches lay around the yard. "I" went out about four. I only went as far as the door. Even she hesitated at the door, like she does when its raining. Sometimes she stares into the darkness as if she thinks there may be something out there she doesn't want to walk into. She went but not for long. We both do not seem to be snapping into today too quickly.

I started waking up by three. I didn't get up until four. I had lying on the desk two tickets. One for power ball, one for Lotto. Lotto had went up to four Million. For me I had convinced myself. Power Ball was ninety-six million. For me I convinced myself. The family was going to love me. Everyones life's would change. Nobody would ever remember one of my past transgressions. I would be very popular.

For the last few days I have been dividing it up in my mind. Who would get what. Maybe a family business I thought. My daughter and son-in-law would never work again. Of course I would have to win the Power Ball for them to retire, but why not? Jer could start a church. I would put the Grandsons in a business. I was sure I would do that. I even worried they would argue over running it. Maybe I would just put them both in separate ones. Ninety-six Million, the skies the limit. Oh and my Brandi. A new car, a house, cash for everyone.

When I got up at four I hurried to the bathroom, then jumped on the computer. Going to the lottery site the first thing I did was look at the money amounts for next Wednesday. It was starting Over. Both of the money amounts had been won. With trembling hands I picked up my tickets. Squinting hard so I could read them, my heart plummeted. I had not won. No joyous shouting, no best friend to my family for life. I was still poor. The Great Gambling Gods had did it to me again.

Somewhere there is shouting, somewhere happiness fills a house. But its not here. The Emperor is still sleeping. "I" has went back to bed. Her dreams of a cushy new home shot to heck. I feel very sad. Then I realize there is aways next week. The money amounts won't be so high, but I'm not greedy. I smile. Too much money would have probably been the ruin of us all anyway. I am totally convinced I will win the Lottery some day. Please don't try to bust my bubble.

Downtown Blogland. On the street I find a old lottery ticket. Hmmm, they must gamble here too. I know people think gambling is a waste of money. I suppose it is. But I will keep on buying my tickets. I will always be a dreamer. I head towards home. The wind is very cold here this morning. I won't be buying a new coat anytime soon. I start running. I'm going home. For today, I'm outta here.

I'M SERIOUS ABOUT THE KATY TRAIL

Miss Saturday is here once again. She smiled her frosty smile at me as I chased after "I". The quiet of the morning enveloped me as I made my way over the snow which still covers much of the yard. My Saul and Sarah seemed to shiver as they stood bare in the darkness. "Hang on," I whispered. 'Its only two months till Spring'

I have a goal this year and that is to walk the Katy Trail. The Katy Trail is a state Park across part of Missouri. It was once where the Katy Railroad ran. It now is a biking and walking trail. I want to walk at least half of it, then turn back and walk my way back to Clinton Missouri. Half way is about one hundred twenty-five miles. So total would be about two hundred and fifty miles. I personally think I am up to it. I would have to save some money to pay for lodging and food. Now the money part I am not so sure of but my Mother use to say, "Where there is a will there is a way." So I am setting my goal for September.

I want to back pack Mexico but unless there was someone to go with me, I know its out of the question. The Katy Trail would be right up my alley. All the assistance I would need would be a ride to Clinton. I could walk about thirty miles a day, stop at night and start again the next morning. Can you even imagine the scenery I would see. The historical value alone would be worth the trip. Stepping back in time as the old trains puffed across Missouri.

If I closed my eyes tight enough I might see solders from the Civil war or maybe even an Indian. It would be safe enough, no cars or trucks to mow me down. Its patrolled in day hours and I would take my phone. I want to go so bad. Just a back pack, with a few changes oof clothes and I would be set. This could be a great adventure.

I have made up my mind. I'm walking that dang trail. I'm making a wish. I'm going to make it come true. So as soon as the weather breaks I'm going back to walking. I need to get up to thirty miles in a day. But I am perfectly sure I can handle it.I have decided I am making this next thirty years worth remembering, even after I'm gone.

The picture at the top of the page is of a bridge on The Kathy Trail. Can't you just see me walking across that bridge? The sun on my hair? I can. At the bottom of the Blog is a short Bio of The Katy Trail.

I make my semi-daily turn around in Blogland. It is quiet here too this morning. I think of all the pictures, poems, rantings and information that fills Blogland. The amazing thing is I never see it when I come. Or hear one peep from anyone. Only when I hit the next Blog button. I head for home. My mind on The Katy Trail. What in the world would I do without dreams? I'm outta here.


The Katy Trail State Park is a recreation rail trail that runs 225 miles (362 km) in the right-of-way of the former Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad. The nickname "Katy" comes from the phonetic pronunciation of 'KT' in the railroad's abbreviated name, MKT. The trail, widely known as the Katy Trail, is a Missouri state park and one of the longest Rails-to-Trails trails in the United States. Sections of the Katy are part of the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail and the American Discovery Trail. Most of the trail follows the northern bank of the Missouri River. The trail is open for use by hikers, joggers, and cyclists year-round, from sunrise to sunset. The trail is made up of "limestone pug", creating a hard flat surface.

WHY I DON'T GO TO THE MOVIES ON SUNDAYS.

Miss Thursday is here. And with her she has brought snow. About five I opened the door to let "I" out and was greeted by the white flakes. Our front yard already blanketed with the white fluff. Brrr, It looks so cold. I use to like it when it snowed. Now I just worry. My daughter getting off work late at night My son driving in this with bad brakes. I wish we all lived in Florida.

I've always loved movies, from the time I was very small. Movies of almost any kind. Growing up Mom always tried to come up with a quarter on Saturdays to go to the movies. A dime to get in. The other fifteen cents for a coke and popcorn. Those were the days. But Mom never wanted you to go on Sundays. Sunday was the Sabbath. I would beg sometimes and she would always say, "What if Christ comes back? Do you think he will come in a Movie theater to get you?" I always wondered if that meant he would collect me there on Saturday but just not Sunday.

I grew up hearing the Bible thumping preachers talking about the rapture. How Christ would come on the clouds, scooping up his righteous and leaving behind the sinners. I was always watching the clouds for signs of his arrival. I wanted to get a quick I'm sorry in. Just in case any stray sins lingered in my young heart.All of those words over the year left me very nervous.

But then a Sunday came when there was a movie on in downtown. At the Fox theatre. I wanted to go. I begged. "Just a dime Mom," I pleaded. "Its Sunday," she said. "What are you going to do if Christ comes? You'll be left behind." There was a tad bit nervousness but the urge to see the movie won out. She gave up the dime and I was on my way.

The movie was a musical. I danced all the way home afterwards. Straight down ninth street, joy in my heart. I got home. Dad was off that day. The car set parked in the driveway. I entered the house to the radio playing. I walked through the four rooms, calling Mom's name. A half cup of coffee set on the kitchen table. Bud's bike on the front porch. Nobody was home. The doors open, music playing. Mom, Dad, Brenda and Bud were gone. The late afternoon sun glistened off the car. Terror rocked my heart. It had happened. Christ had come while I was in the movie. Just like Mom had said. "Good grief" I had been left behind.

Tears sprung to my eyes as I looked around the quiet house. "What was I going to do?" I was only twelve. How would I pay rent, buy groceries. Thoughts raced through my head. "Why," I asked myself, "Couldn't he have least came to the lobby and called my name?" I flung myself down on the couch. Fresh tears flooding my eyes. Then a thought entered my mind. Was there others left behind? Surely there was. There had to be other sinners. The movie house had been full. Then Bea McDonald sprang to mind. I heard talk about Bea, she lived around the corner. A trouble maker. Surely she hadn't been taken. My ace in the hole. She might be a part time sinner but she liked me. Maybe she would at least give me food. Then the realization hit me, they had a television. The Springfield channel played "Howdy Doody and Pinky Lee," five days a week. Maybe she would even let me sleep on her couch. I felt a little better. Though I knew I would miss my family.

Just then I heard the scraping of tire wheels on the gravel driveway. I rushed to the window. It was Helen and Leon Schrocks car. And Mom, dad, Bud and Brenda were getting out of the back seat. Joy flooded my heart. They had returned and in the Schrocks car. Hallalugh,

I rushed out the door, flinging mysef into Mom's arms. "You've come back I gushed. "We only went to look at a house with Helen and Leon," she said. Eyeing me strangely. Of course Mom always eyed me strangely. I firmly believe to this day she thought Aliens from another planet had sent me with the stork on the day of my birth. I was so happy. I hadn't bit the bullet. The rapture had not took place. I had another chance to make it with the Holies.

As we sat around the supper table I beamed at all of them. I loved the chatter. The smell of food. I was not alone. But the one small fact lingered in my mind. "What would it have been like to watch "Howdy Doody," everyday. I never got to find out.

I watch the skies as I send my words into the wind. They mingle with the snow. Oh yes its snowing here too. The sky looks a little funny here this morning. I wish I was Catholic so I could do the sign of the cross. Just in case there is any sins floating around me. I have hopes of making it thorough another day. But for now, I'm outta here.

THE UNSUNG HERO

Wednesday morning awaits right outside . I opened the door about four, "I" and I peering out. But neither of us decided to start up with her yet. "I" went back to bed, snuggling close to The Emperor. I have a cup of tea here by the computer. I sift through thoughts as I try to arrange a few words in my mind. Hoping they hop over to the computer in clean crisp form. Of course I never do anything clean and crisp. Why would I think I would start today

After receiving a very nice email from my cousin Margie I am truly going to try and get a new attitude about this fast approaching Birthday. As of yesterday evening I am embracing my age. Now this is a big step for me, the only thing harder is giving up "Debbie Cakes." Which giving them up isn't that hard because I've never did it yet.

I sat down the other night with a box of "Miss Debbie." Her sweet face smiling at me from the box. "Deb," I said, "We have to stop meeting like this. Your looks are staying the same. I am getting fatter by the day." Debbie looked at me not saying a word, just smiling that phony smile of hers. This last year the more I've worried about my age the more sweets I've ate. Oh the endless circle I have been running.

Last night I made a new vow. I will no longer run from mirrors. I will proudly stare right at myself in every mirror I see. Though I do have to be honest, I see very little of my face in the mirror. It seems though the wrinkles always shows through the haze. I will no longer cry when the word seventy is spoken in my presence.I will be brave. I tremble as I write this.

I am like most people. I do not feel my age . I feel like I have been trapped in a time warp from which there is no escape. My daughter is fifty-one and I don't feel I should even be that age. She seems to take aging much better than me. But she is eighteen years younger than me. I don't think I got so upset at each Birthday at her age either.

I intend to live to be a hundred. I want to be like my neighbor Evelyn at age ninety-seven she is still going strong. I think her secret is she drinks Walnut Tincture every day and has the most enquireing mind I know. I think that is the secret right there. Keeping your mind young and active. I will take this next thirty years as the opportunity to learn and have new experiences. So watch out world I am just getting started.

And to my cousin Margie I think you are amazing. I think about the Essay your grandson has written about you. You being his Unsung Hero. How neat that you at eighty-five have impressed him as an Unsung Hero. He is only twelve. Margie's said in her email if she had given up at seventy and said it was over. She would have never had her grandson in her life. Her statement set me back on my heels. How very true. Who knows what lies a few years up the road. You have given me words to grow on Margie. Thank-you.

As I stand at the corner of Blogland I notice a light burning in the one store window. Its been very dark in there since they took the Christmas lights down. I move to the window and stare in. I smile. Its a "Happy Birthday" sign. Surely they don't mean it for me. I watch as the bright neon sign flickers. I take it as a omen this means the year ahead will be great. Maybe I will write a book this year. Maybe I will walk the "Katy Trail." Who knows. Its still two weeks till my birthday and I'm already excited. Oh yeah, sure I am.But for today, I'm outta here.

HIS MIDDLE NAME IS PAUL

Tuesday is here. When I got up at four I was afraid she might have brought along freezing rain but all seems dry from my spot at the front door. I hope it continues to be that way.

I haven't written much the last couple of weeks. I write, then don't post. After rereading them, I shake my head and hit delete. I wanted to write about Mike, my grandson. I wanted to tell you he turned thirty-five on Sunday. I also wanted to tell you that his middle name is Paul after his Doctor that delivered him after not meeting his Mother till minutes before his birth. It was important you know what a wonderful Dad I think he is. But alas with the touch of delete the words went sliding into oblivion. But this was information that was important you know.

I get these moods, actually I have not noticed them so much until the last few years. But truthfully I was probably always this way but just don't want to admit it. Indecisive. I am having an early melt down because the dreaded day is coming soon. When I wrote I had a breakdown over my last birthday you can imagine what this one is doing to me. I can't even say the words let alone be it. I am turning into a Codger. A little shiver slides down my spine as I write the words. You can close your eyes when you look in the mirror, you can pretend your knees don't creak. But nothing changes the fact when you turn that number that has a seven in it, followed by a zero. It pretty much is over. "Groan, Groan."

I have always thought I would have time to do all these things I have always wanted to do. Back-pack Mexico, learn Spanish, Walk the Katy Trail, write a book, climb a Mountain, learn to swim, take a plane ride, run the New York Marathon and stand on the top deck of The Empire State building. Folks I may be running out of time.

My sister who I have always thought so sweet not ornery and mean like me. Has faithfully been giving me a count down everyday so I won't forget how close I am coming to the dreaded day. Today is seventeen days. I am getting mighty nervous. If anyone even dares to say that age out loud I am not sure how I will react. The words keep being whispered in my ears. "Codger, Codger." I am thinking I may need to put a blue tint in my hair. I think I may be officially becoming one of those. "The Blue Hairs." How did this ever happen?

I get to the turn around corner in Blogland. I slip my hands into my pocket. Taking my words out I start to toss them to the wind. I happen to look down and see my hands. "Good grief," I have old lady hands. A tear slides down my cheek. I slowly start making my way back home. I'm moving slow. Us Codgers walk this way you know. But for now, I'm outta here.

BETWEEN MY MOTHER AND LYDIA ITS BEEN A ROUGH WEEK.

Miss Thursday sits out in the front yard. She does not look friendly, just very cold. About four I opened the storm door a crack and peered out. Her deadly chill caused me to hastily jump back in the house. Miss Thursday may very well roam around out there without me. Its just too cold for a lady of my advancing years.

I haven't written for a few days. I've been busy learning stuff. In the last five days I have learned back in the old days we poor kids were discriminated against. My sister Geri called me . She said our brother, "Smiling Bud" had called her. Lydia Passmore had died at ninety-eight years old. Miss Passmore was a teacher at East Junior High School. She was also the teacher who terrorized me several times a week by taking me out in the hall and asking if I was hungry and did my parents ever feed me. I do admit at five foot nine and about ninety pounds I looked anorexic, I wasn't. Geri then informed me that Miss Passmore had kept her from trying out for cheer leading by saying we were too poor to buy the uniform. I called Bud and talked about it. He told me how several teachers had labeled him because of where we lived. Ninth street, the shabby kids. I would like to go picket the school or something but it was tore down years ago.

I have also learned that my sister thinks my Mother was a Beautician besides teaching school. Now I am not sure what left field that came out of. Geri swears its true. When did my Mother ever be a Beautician? Why was this secret kept from me? Was it because she didn't want to fix my hair and instead let me run around all scraggly? If she really was a beautician, why didn't I have good hair? I sure have a bunch of questions and nobody to ask.

I have also learned that I will not be able to keep my New Years resolutions. Miss Debbie has never left the house and I have not learned one word of Spanish. In fact I haven't even been speaking English good lately. The year has not started off with a bang. But we're only two weeks in, so maybe things will look up.

So here we are at Thursday and I am reeling from the fact that there were Teachers who find out where we lived and thought we were low class and not too smart. I am still incensed over this fact. I asked Bud, "How do you think they knew we were poor? I didn't know." He laughed. "They knew we came from Ninth street. They knew we were poor." Just because our house had no paint, how did they come to that conclusion? They sure didn't look at Ninth street like I did and still do. I personally thought it was a magical place. So with the unleashing of old memories at Lydia's passing and learning my Mother had another life she kept from me. Its been a very rough week.

I'm downtown Blogland. I haven't been here for a few days. But it still looks the same and very cold, very. I let the bitter wind spin my words off. The words that make very little sense. But gee, what can you expect from a kid from Ninth Street anyway. I turn towards home. I smile as old memories race through my mind. Those teachers had no idea just how lucky us Munch kids were. So for now, I'm outta here.

DESIDERATA

Miss Tuesday is back again. "I" and I have been up since three and we have made our noisy run around the yard. I have tried writting two different Blogs this morning. The words stared back at me with an accusing glance. "Who are you?" they asked. "To rattle on with such hypocrisy?" I have deleted them both and instead put this poem on. I read it for the first time probably forty years ago. I loved it then. I love it now. It is as follows.


Desiderata - by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

A FEW THINGS I LIKE AND LOVE

It is early Monday morning. Another brand new week is back. Seven days lay stretched out before me. Hmmm, what shall I do with them? I honestly must admit probably not much. I constantly tell myself I need do be more productive. I'll work on doing that very thing.

I have written on here before about stuff I like and dislike. As I lay in bed around three this morning I thought about some of the things that really pleasure me. This came tumbling into my mind as I lay listening to the wind chimes on the front porch. I've had wind chimes but not the ones with the big metal cylinders. The Emperor bought them for me at Christmas. They sway in the breeze, metal against metal. Sending off the most delightful sounds. I really love and enjoy them. I like my trees out front but they are bare and lonely looking right now. But they still stretch their bare branches out to each other. "Saul and Sarah." Doomed lovers from days gone by. I truly love my trees.

I like the rain, sad songs and flowers. I like laughter, its actually the best medicine going. And I like people. When God created us he sure made us a diverse group. From very strange to serious. I have a feeling I fall into the strange category. But I love watching them all. People are so funny .

I love teapots, Miss Debbie cakes. I am trying hard to fight the addiction this New Year. I appreciate people who have Moxy and can take it on the chin. I like positive attitudes. Curly hair, which I don't have. I love clothes and shoes. i really love my new Black purse. I love education and learning new ideas and information. I like words. I love tomorrows and the promise they bring.

Most of all I love my family. My children, grandchildren, Sister, brother, great grands. I love The Emperor and sometimes his grouchy ways. I'm not overly fond of his attitude. Wait a minute , he's not fond of mine either. But I like his mind. If you look through his rough ways you will see a very smart person.

I have went through a wonderful Christmas season and it has left me with Joy and perspective. My friend Joan says she's on the last leg of her journey. I say not me. I'm looking forward to many more legs. I think this leg I might take up fortune telling. I wish I could buy a crystal ball cheap. Have you heard of any? So many possibilities.

This morning my Blog has been sort of lame I know, but its all I have today. The ramblings of a slightly daffy older woman. But really whats wrong with being a little strange. Okay, okay alot strange. But I've walked this way all of my life. I shall continue my journey the same for the rest of the way.

I've stopped here at the corner in Blogland. Its cold but the skies are clear here this morning. No snow. None at home either. I wonder if the words I toss almost daily just drop quickly back to earth after I release them? I like to think they drift upward and spin into the vastness. Forever floating somewhere in the dark recess of Cyberland. Something today to ponder on. But for now, I'm outta here.

THERE WILL BE NO ALL SEASON TREE.

Sunday morning that feels like it should be Monday morning because yesterday felt like Sunday not Saturday. Does that make sense? Anyway Sunday January the 2nd. Two days into the New year and I haven't messed up yet. Yah, yah. Of course I've not been out of the house either. Give me time, I'll be starting the goofing up soon enough.

There will be no All Season Tree. When I told The Emperor my plans for an All Season Tree he got just a tad bit upset. Words like "Chopping it up" and "throwing it out the door," were bandied about. So yesterday morning I decided I would take it down. Now when the tree went up I sat in a chair and watched as Billie and Richard efficiently assembled it. This will be a snap I thought. "Not." After two hours or more of climbing, cussing, unwinding, falling, staggering the tree was finally down. As I worked to unwind the lights I recalled someone saying, "Wrap that around the tree topper so it won't fall off. Believe me if hundred mile an hour wind hit that living room the tree topper would not have toppled.

As I climbed on a chair and reached to unwind the lights at the top, I raised my head up and hit the top of the doorway. Dazed I fell forward catching myself on the tree. The tree started moving I grabbed for the doorway to steady myself. The chair started going over, I grabbed the tree again to right myself. It was one of those slap stick comedy moments but at least I stayed upright for the most part. My heart beating wildly I finished the job out of breath.

What made things more difficult was that the tree was green. The light cords were green. I could not distinguish one from the other. I patted the tree, felt of the tree until I believe the tree was smiling from all the attention. But thank goodness the living room is back to normal. I personally liked it better with the tree. It feels vacant in there now. I still am walking sideways through the door.

The Emperor got up about ten. The job all done and everything put away. "Its all done," I said with satisfaction. "I about killed myself but its finished. The Emperor smiled. "If you would have asked I would have helped." I looked at him and answered. "Sure you would have after the drama, tenseness and fight." He smiled, "You're probably right," he answered. I know I was.

So now its wait a year until the beautiful tree is back up once again. Hey Billie and Richard, would you please put me on your tree list, right up there at the top.

I stop here at the corner. I swear I saw the taillight's of a car. I have never seen a car here in Blogland before. I wonder what goes on when I'm not here? I need to try a different time. Its hard to tell what I'm missing. But its too cold this morning to hang around and see. I'm heading home to get up close to the stove. I'm outta here.

MY RESOULOTIONS FOR 2011

Happy New Year. It is Saturday morning, January 1st 2011. "I" and myself went out to the front yard about 4:30. I wanted to see if the world looked different.In going out that early I thought I might catch a glimpse of 2010 as she trudged away, but everything seemed quiet. Our Christmas lights that we burned for the last time this season seemed even brighter show cased against the darkness. I was asleep when the New Year rolled in. So I rang in a welcome myself by clanging the wind chimes once real hard. I hope the Baby Year appreciated it. For I'm sure the neighbors didn't.

I have given some serious thought to what my resolutions should be this year. I bought one last box of "Miss Debbie's" yesterday. As I opened the wrapping on cake one I broke the news to her. This is it "Debbie" I said. We can't go on this way any longer. You are clogging my arteries and enlarging my hips. We must part ways once and for all. So that is number one this year. "Miss Debbie has been thrown out of the house. Well, at least when I finish the box.

Number two, is that I am going to hold my tongue better with "The Emperor." Now I truthfully admit I am not sure how I will accomplish this resolution. Maybe surgery on my mouth. Having it clamped shut. I greet him in the mornings, "Good morning Mr. Sunshine I sing. A low growl exits his throat. Leave him alone," my inter voice says. But I chirp a string of constant chatter until he bellows, "Leave me the H--- alone." The Emperor has a low tolerance for chirpiness. So I will try harder to not annoy him. This one I am sure is doomed for failure.

Number three I am for sure going to accomplish. I want to learn Spanish. I say this every year. This year I mean it. I can learn over the Internet. So this time next year when I am writing this Blog in Spanish you will have to learn too. I see myself in my bright yellow skirt, peasant blouse, sandals, talking away in a foreign tongue. If I ever get to go to Mexico I will be ready.

The last one number four is that I will learn more tolerance. I talk a good game. Accepting others as I want them to accept me but I wonder at times if I really do. I want the world to see it all my way. Of course I still have enough smarts to know that is not going to happen. Tolerance, the following is dictionary meaning,
tol·er·ance-1. The capacity for or the practice of recognizing and respecting the beliefs or practices of others. So maybe this one should have been Number one instead of four. Learning to smile at The Emperor when he is feeling cranky. Tolerance. Hmm, I certainly will try.

I'm downtown Blogland. Laying on the street corner is a paper hat and horn. Gee, they must have partied here last night. There is no sign of human form or animal either for that matter. I know there are thousands that occupy this land but when I am here there is nobody to be seen. I loosen my grip on my words. My first of the year. I wish they could have been more poetic or sage. But alas I had none of those sort of words in my pocket. I head towards home. "Happy New Year," I call to the darkness. I'm outta here.