little islands…

pinterest w

Little islands are all large prisons; one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.

The one with a wish: Richard Francis Burton
Image: found on pinterest

Doing? a bit of research, headphones on Tennessee Whiskey sung by Chris Stapleton crooning in my ears –

You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You’re as sweet as strawberry wine
You’re as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time..

…ever heard of Hy Brasil?  Interesting little place…

at night…

theguardian com

At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night.

Observation: HP Lovecraft
Image: theguardian.com

all days are equal…

 

hiveminer

Although I understand that all days are equal with 24 hours each, most of us agree that Friday is the longest day of the week and Sunday the shortest!

Observation: DS Mixell
Image: hiveminer

Did you know?  In the 1930’s the US was very close to adopting a 32 hour work week, but the US Government decided instead to follow other countries who were instilling 40 hour work weeks.   That guy?  The one who persuaded our folk to make that rather momentous decision?  I’d like to meet him.   Why?  So I can kick him in both shins!

Doing? listening to Pandora Radio – Lights by Journey – drinking coffee, enjoying the part of each day that is just mine with the exception of today.    Today, I’m sharing with you.

The sun is already up and golden.  The porch swing is creaking as I push it back and forth with one foot.  The other is crooked beneath me, as I lean back and draw deep of the breeze coming through the yard from offshore.   Somewhere an owl is singing a lullabye, and the displaced cats who call the abandoned house next door home, are beginning to slink out from under the fence eyeing me in unrealistic hope.  Not now.   This is my time.

The fire trucks from the nearby station are waking, and moving out for their morning ritual.  Soon bells, whistles and siren tests will sound signaling my moment is over and I will have to head in to shower.  But for right this second, a bee is buzzing lazily near my roses and the warmth of my coffee mug is filling my hand.   It is still my time.

that story…

suburban men

Image: found at Suburban Men

Inky: What? How? When, flashed in my thoughts when I saw this picture.  I felt this almost obsessive need to walk upon that boat, to solve the mystery that still thrums in my mind.  Such a large vessel, such a small stream between two mountains, the story must be good.  I want to hear that story.

a girl moment…

flickr

All things are possible until they are proved impossible and even the impossible may only be so, as of now.

Observation: Pearl S. Buck
Image: found at flickr

Doing? challenging the impossible to drop the ‘im’.   Windows are all open cause the a/c went out today and they can’t get by till tomorrow, my wine glass is empty; supply emergency requiring getting dressed and heading to the not so near wine store, and the mother of all plot snarls came to visit and tangled up my computer screen.

Now I know in the universal scheme of things, that <waves above> is not a huge thing. Somewhere a planet is fighting off the Gorbecks that want the Stramenium that is the basis of the very planet they reside on. A huge plant busting asteroid is streaking toward a tiny insignificant plant.  The only one in the known universe that holds the one element that would be the answer to Earth’s pollution, and energy problems, and yes here on the home front, people are being people.  But.

Just but.

Okay…  So maybe it’s still not that warm, and I do have my handy dandy plot unsnarler here somewhere, and yes it’s not that far to the wine store still….

It’s a girl moment.  I’m going to scream now….

consent…

found at pinterest

If I am a pawn in someone else’s chess game, you better believe I am going to demand an explanation before being shoved at some rook. I’ll play my part, damn it, but I want the courtesy of being asked for my consent!

Declaration: Danse Macabre, Thomm Quackenbush
Image: found on pinterest

warmth…

Garden-Therapy

October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or shutting a book, did not end the tale.

Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: “It is simply a matter,” he explained to April, “of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.

Excerpt: from The Sandman, by my favorite author Neil Gaiman

Image: Garden Therapy

Inky: The weather is warming now, Spring is just a moment away.  Will you forgive me if from now on, I spend my weekends, gardening, at the beach, at the mountains, or anywhere else there is fun, outside stuff, and the sun?    You too, no computers on Friday, Saturday and Sundays.   Shall we pinky promise?

 

where waves were..

robert duncan

On a day like today
We passed the time away
Writing love letters in the sand
Just like letters on the sand
Where waves were
I feel you’ll disappear to a far off place
I miss you again and miss you more

Mashup lyrics: first three ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ Music by J. Fred Coots lyrics by Nick and Charles Kenny. Remaining lyrics ‘Through the Night‘ Lyrics & music IU.

Image: Robert Duncan

Inky: I didn’t make it to the mountains, I wound up at the shore.  It was beautiful out, warm, and the beach was almost abandoned.  I spent the weekend remembering you, us, and the long hot summer.  I remember the day you drove away, headed up north.

My Mom told me ‘if you love something you have to let it go, if it comes back it is yours.’  So I let you go that summer.  You walked away leaving me facing the water, and I didn’t turn around until the rumble of your old vet faded.

I missed you again this weekend….

getaway….

thechive

Inky: Just so you know.  I’m gonna be gone this weekend.  I’m going to be doing that <points up> just about right there.  Only there will be more wine.

It’s been awhile, and I’m sure it’ll be cold but never fear, I have packed the sweaters, heavy jeans, hiking boots, a few blankets, and the entirety of my flask collection, all filled of course.

My plans?   Bigfoot hunting…?   Brown Mountain light chasing… ?  Monster hunting?  Maybe.   Wine tasting?   Most definitely.

what???

watterson

Sunday night?  I was just Friday like 5 seconds ago.

I told you I wouldn’t remember…

Image: Watterson

Oh heck, that means Monday is coming….