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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 05:14am PT
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How I Love My Armchair
Let me count the ways --
All the way to the doctor's office --
For it has weak springs
And is heavy as Sysiphus' boulder.
It will not fully recline
But what it sticks in that position
And I have to make some awkward moves
To arise from it without injury
Thus making it necessary to wire the moves
But I never use chalk --
Chalk's for show-offs --
And nobody's here to watch
But that's beside the point.
My legs swell and it is my tool
To reduce the swelling I spend time
Each day with my feet elevated
Which is therapeutic
But I'd just as soon be doing something else
Besides watching old episodes of Miss Fisher Mysteries
Like posting to supertopo.com
It is amusing to watch the reactions
Of friends who come to visit
Thinking they are being offered the "best chair" --
A little Shakespearean humor there --
When it is my perverse pleasure
To watch them writhe and squirm
As they attempt to find a comfortable position
So cool!
So be forewarned
And therefore fore-armed
And remember to bring a camp chair
Or be prepared to stand --
The choice is yours.
Visiting Mouse in Merced
Is dangerous
Visit Middle Earth --
By all means, I'd be glad to have you
And I even have a bunk bed (top) if you need sleep
But bring your own pillow --
At your own risk.
--MFM, alone on Christmas
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 06:54am PT
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Holiday Travels with Absinthe
Toward the end of summer session I went to Africa to help my great-aunt Mulva work on her house.
Mulva is a spry eighty-year-old with two large poodles, Icy and Frosty, both Standard Poodles, smarter than Descartes, male and female, and well-trained, obedient companions who are inseparable from one another.
However, they cannot sand, paint, nor apply masking tape. They were no help with the repairs to the house, which Mulva wants to sell so that she can buy the RV of her dreams and tour the country. With the dogs. "Travels with Mulva" is her working title for the journal which she will keep along the way.
When the house was finished, or nearly so, I had been there eleven days less one day to see the old family stomping grounds in Wisconsin, home of the eponymous glacial stage. It was a long ways to go, I realize, but Africa’s so dang hot in summer. I’m a fairly fast traveler because of the neat stow-away armchair I’ve devised. I’ve saved a bundle in travel expenses since I found it the day after Facelift. I wonder whose it was? Do they miss it? Tough beans. Finders keepers. Maybe Santa will be good for another one. Not my problem.
We took my ride, a beast of a machine, part pick-up and part Cadillac. It has a plush interior, but the back is a pick-up bed converted by an auto body genius named Wrecks who drove it with pride in several parades and old car rallies. It’s a 1965 and is painted a unique shade created in Wrecks’ own paint shop called Earl Grey, who never drank milk in his tea, just like Wrecks drinks his own Earl Grey.
I like it, too. But with lemon.
We went north, took a fairy ride to Belize from Marrakesh, taking several hours – fog, lots of fog and probably seasonal, but we had tea with the captain, a Mr. Dylan, who is an astute poet but never published, and the time passed quickly in these doldrums – but at last we came to the Isthmus of Time, fortunately near Panama's isthmus.
From there, traveling in real time for a change, we came to Highway 61 in Mississippi’s Delta. We traveled in the rain, seeing misty mountains, vast armies of children armed with swords, and traveled crooked by-ways on occasion.
"It is a very different experience than the sheltered tunnel of the interstates. Abandoned homes, cars, trucks, businesses. The combination of automation and consolidation in agriculture and the interstates has bled this country’s small towns just about dry.
"Most tourists are motorcyclists for whom the interstate can be a miserable place. We headed north through the edge of the Badlands and then a couple days in the Black Hills."
["There Are No Bad Lanes in the Badlands" is a working title for my own journal.]
"It is a beautiful place, and given my keen interest in geology, a place of great attractiveness."
[Thus writeth the man turned me on to “Another Roadside Attraction” and so he should know it when something beckons]
"As usual a fair number of rocks hitched a ride home."
[This used to happen to me a lot when I owned a car and most are my friends now and happy in new lives, in spite of their apparent incarceration. I call it Seekhome Syndrome, a common thing, especially among granitic rocks and quartz. Some wags call it the Jerry Quarry Quirk.]
"Next destination was Little Bighorn. From there we went down to Sheridan, Wyoming, and spent time in the Bighorn Mountains. What a magnificent and relatively tourist-free place to visit. Again, it was geologically amazing and scenic.
"On to Yellowstone, which was suffering a severe infestation of tourists, so we headed up Gallatin Canyon to Bozeman, Montana. Headed west on I-90 with a side trip to the Ninemile Remount Historic Ranger Station, the first training facility for firefighting mules and horses in the US.
"Ninemile Canyon is worth driving [especially so in a 1965 Caddy pick-up with two poodles riding like royalty sniffing the air from atop a small mountain of camping gear, I’m sure] up [or down?] for the unexpected bucolic rural scenery...and would you please not interrupt me when I’m writing, Mouse?
"We headed up toward Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho, but stopped short because of time and instead went across Thompson Pass to the Couer d’Alene River and back down to I-90. Through Spokane and back up to Highway 28 through the wheat fields of eastern Washington.
"Eventually back to I-90 and finally to Mineral to visit Don and KJ....Headed south on I-5 to attend Mom Worthing’s 92nd birthday dinner....Spent the night chez amis and then headed east to visit more long-time friends Terry and Joyce in Cedarville [Warner Mountains, far NorCal]. We had a great reunion.
"Continued south through Nevada. Outside Fernley I got a text to call JJ (sculpture instructor). I called him and he said I needed to call Linday (friend caring for my plants). From him I learned my house had been burglarized while I was gone.
[Tragedy ensues, here come the blues, now start all over again.]
"Got home to discover my door had been broken in and they had stolen three guitars, two ukeleles [they spared his record collection...YAY! – it is massive.], one bicycle, TV, computer monitor, tools, money, etc. etc. Not to mention peace of mind and a big mess to clean up. Richmond police have been useless. Any way, this necessitated getting the door fixed which led to other work including re-siding part of the house, earthquake-proofing (standards were lower in the 60s0, putting a window in the living room where the fireplace had once been, etc. Still have the roof to be done and the house painted."
Would like to thank my old Flames original pal, Larry Ozone Hoad Scuz Jokes Jones, for the use of his Christmas letter.
Absinthe, Ouzo Good to Me
I recall using Ouzo
the first time was free.
I'd never used it before
And it was good to me.
I can't recall when
Absinthe called me
But I think that it's been
Two centuries, maybe three.
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Dec 25, 2016 - 07:03am PT
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stepping In to say HEY!, Masterful shares then and now catching up!
back after a re-sizing sesh the camera didn't size things? or something? somethings' changed?
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 07:05am PT
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[Click to View YouTube Video]Doctor John, friends.
Christmas time, pretty baby, but it's raining in my heart.
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Dec 25, 2016 - 07:30am PT
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NO LEFT TURN UN-STONED !(Or is it NO TURN LEFT UN-STONED?) or,(NO UN-STONED TURN LEFT?)
Day before Christmas Eve 12/24/2016, Crisp cold Dry high clouds
View from of the Catskills, Valley side, or western exposure
(As opposed to Lake side eastern exposure Tower view )
%^}
Skating rink pavilion fire pit
FLAMES
FAMILY-o
B~D Da Big House, stone building lake side from
A perch once used to play taps, Vespars. N' such across the lake,
(It felt special gnoming this, now it is memeroralized by a plaque)
It held a resonance and an echo from the white walls.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 07:44am PT
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Thanks much, amigo de los caminos.
I'm not cryin' and lonely, just want to feel that way, but my friends won't let me.
Besides, I got no beer to cry in -- but Oly because the stores are all closed this early.
But I got my pension check in the mail yesterday and so I'm gonna go rectify that. Might pick up some Christmas ham to go with the moldy potatoes, the rancid buttermilk, the REALLY HARD CHEESE, and all the Misery in My Head, been sittin' there since I forget when.
I've got the blues because I haven't got 'em, see? Nawmean?
Had 'em so long I'm just lost without 'em. This here blues is for my missin' blues.[Click to View YouTube Video]It is Christmas, so a decent beverage is called for.
Grocery Outlet, here I come.
But first, thank you, Gnome. Ifeelyourpresents.
Hold up that mistletoe and let me kris you, Baby Doll. Happy Holidays, eh?[Click to View YouTube Video]
WhenlostIgoleft. Sometimes it saves time, others not. Adventure is not found by dithering overlong over details.
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Dec 25, 2016 - 09:17am PT
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Flambé to the original acid pipeline guy and Mr. Dale.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Remember - things could be worse. Well not for Jesus Cristo, but for the rest of us.
78-year-old surf-rock legend Dick Dale is in rough shape. He’s had rectal cancer twice, had parts of his stomach and intestines removed, and thus wears a colostomy bag under his clothes at all times. He’s currently in renal failure and refuses to go on dialysis. He has diabetes. And he suffers from vertebrae so damaged “that every time I stand up it’s like a double-edge sword going into my spine,”
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 09:44am PT
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Timid Santa and santa nita,
Lookin' good, nonetheless, I can tell.
Hope she was feelin' no pain.
May your smiles stay fixed on your faces
no matter the places
life takes you -- you're both aces.
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Dec 25, 2016 - 12:52pm PT
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my good neighbor festivus post (lower right corner) in our slice of the arizona "desert" ... ;)
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 25, 2016 - 04:19pm PT
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Hey, there was snow in the Sahara, hooblie. Didja hear? First time in 39 years...
Seventy years ago.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 02:58am PT
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Phil Ament, no relation to Pat.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 03:30am PT
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The weather started getting rough,
the tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew,
the Minnow would be lost.
The Minnow would be lost.
The skipper said to Gilligan,
Who sat there looking dim,
"We're gonna die if we don't
Reach calm water fast."
"Beach palm water flask?"
"No, "Reach calm water fast.'"
"Ay-aye, skipper."
zBrown water, keep on rollin'.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 03:51am PT
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I lost a shoe
And then I lost my glove
And THEN I lost my mind.By the time I found my thumb
I was in Phoenix.
I can't remember the last time I saw that lace.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 04:32am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 04:42am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Dec 26, 2016 - 04:48am PT
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For God, the impossible is nothing.
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Dec 26, 2016 - 08:06am PT
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Not ho, Hoe - like water off the back of a Duck
Badger Badger Badger soundtrack winner, 2016
Ain't no 70+ division. Pass the audition, ya gotta ride in the 65+ class
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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