All Is Quiet...

Tiger Yawning Pictures, Images and Photos
Yawn.

It seems like everyone (including me) is running out of things to talk about concerning the Tigers until they actually do something this offseason, but here's a couple things to check out that you may not have seen yet.

Jayson Stark gives a great overview of the Tigers heading into the offseason. First it'll depress you, then you might feel a bit better towards the end. That's always nice.

Larry Dobrow is kind of a prick when talking about the team.

Lee over at Tiger Tales discusses Pitching Runs and points out...get this...Nate Robertson finished at -37.5...the worst in the American League. Good stuff, Lee. I appreciate anything in proving my point that Nate should be shot.

Morosi is still employed at the Freep and kicks Lions fans while they're down comparing them to the 2003 Tigers.

Finally, and this one is from a couple weeks ago, DesigNate was apparently trying to find his slider at Lindbergh Elementary School. That's sweet...but I still want you released, buddy.

Two Francis Gay stories and some funnies...

Happy St. Andrew's Day to Everyone !
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Hi Folks,


If you can start the day without caffeine,
If you can get going without pep pills,
If you can always be cheerful,
ignoring aches and pains,
If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,
If you can eat the same food everyday and be grateful for it,
If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time,
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment,
If you can resist treating a rich friend better than a poor friend,
If you can conquer tension without medical help,
If you can relax without liquor,
If you can sleep without the aid of drugs, ...

Then You Are Probably - The Family Dog!
And you thought I was going to get all spiritual with this, huh !
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Here's a couple of items I came across in my Friendship Book...

Emma Wilson from Kirkcaldy, lost her 87 yr old Mother from breast cancer last year. Afterwards she started raising money for Breakthrough Breast Cancer and was slightly surprised when they got in touch to ask if she 'd undertake a challenge to raise £1000. Emma accepted, but couldn't imagine how she was going to go about raising that amount of cash. Then, she had a fabulous idea, her mother used to knit tiny Christmas stocking for the family's tree - she could use pink wool instead of red and ask people to fill them with small change! Emma can whip up a little sock in no time and was soon handling them out to family and friends.

These were returned full of coins - some stuffed full with as much as £150. She soon reached her target of £1,000 - but the socks were so popular she just kept knitting. To date Emma has collected around £2,000 and the charity has invited her to visit a new cancer research centre at the Royal Marsden Hospital in London this week to see how the money's being spent. It will be a particularly poignant day as her mother's name, Vina Foulis, is going to appear on a wall at the research centre. She's planning to take a photograph for her proud 92 year old father Eddy, who lives in Lanark. To me it seems so appropriate that the money raised is due partly to Emma's efforts, but also thanks to those little socks her Mum used to knit for the Christmas tree.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
It was a typical lunch-time in the High Street. Everyone had stern expressions on their faces and seemed to be in a hurry. My eyes were drawn to a solitary figure on a mobility scooter who had a paintbrush in his hand and a big smile on his face. He was painting a picture of a row of buildings with painstaking detail.

Turns out Alex was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis 10 years alo but ... he hasn't let this get him down. He said he's never been happier as now he can indulge his passion for painting. "There's beauty everywhere," he said. "It's just that most people don't take the time to see it".

As I saw people rushing about, I thought how right he was - and with a great attitude to boot!
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I'm finishing this blog with a couple of videos which are fun and funny, enjoy 'cos I did. The first one is of the Scottish Rugby team's intimidation tactics...
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=bUXmgXhQWtY

this next one is an example of Parliamo Glasgow. (4) (how some folk speak in Glasgow).
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=IMnKPnPhhYw




Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Memento


[Memling - reverse panel from St. John and Veronica]


Works of genius have this intrinsic property, that even when they give a perfect likeness of the nullity of things, even when they clearly demonstrate and make us feel the inevitable unhappiness of life, even when they express the most terrible despair, nevertheless to a great soul, that may even find itself in a state of utter prostration, disillusionment, futility, boredom and discouragement with life, or in the harshest and most death-dealing adversities (whether these appertain to the strong and lofty emotions, or to any other thing); they always serve as a consolation, rekindling enthusiasm, and though speaking of and portraying nothing but death, restore to it, at least for a while, the life that it had lost.


Leopardi, from the Prologue to his Moral Essays

Memento


[Memling - reverse panel from St. John and Veronica]


Works of genius have this intrinsic property, that even when they give a perfect likeness of the nullity of things, even when they clearly demonstrate and make us feel the inevitable unhappiness of life, even when they express the most terrible despair, nevertheless to a great soul, that may even find itself in a state of utter prostration, disillusionment, futility, boredom and discouragement with life, or in the harshest and most death-dealing adversities (whether these appertain to the strong and lofty emotions, or to any other thing); they always serve as a consolation, rekindling enthusiasm, and though speaking of and portraying nothing but death, restore to it, at least for a while, the life that it had lost.


Leopardi, from the Prologue to his Moral Essays

Zeno


[Van der Weyden's Portrait of a Lady]


From [one version of] Strindberg's Preface to Miss Julie

I say Miss Julie is a modern character which does not mean that the man-hating half-woman has not existed in every age just that she has now been discovered, has now come out into the open and made herself heard. Victim of a superstition (one that has seized even stronger minds) that woman, this stunted form of human being, who stands between man, the lord of creation, the creator of culture, is meant to be the equal of man or could ever be, she involves herself in an absurd struggle in which she falls. Absurd because a stunted form, governed by the laws of propagation, will always be born stunted and can never catch up with the one in the lead, according to the formula:

A (the man) and B (the woman) start from the same point C, A with a speed of, let us say, 100 and B with a speed of 60. When will B overtake A? Answer: never.

Neither with the help of equal education, equal voting rights, disarmament or temperance -- no more than two parallel lines can ever meet and cross.


Zeno


[Van der Weyden's Portrait of a Lady]


From [one version of] Strindberg's Preface to Miss Julie

I say Miss Julie is a modern character which does not mean that the man-hating half-woman has not existed in every age just that she has now been discovered, has now come out into the open and made herself heard. Victim of a superstition (one that has seized even stronger minds) that woman, this stunted form of human being, who stands between man, the lord of creation, the creator of culture, is meant to be the equal of man or could ever be, she involves herself in an absurd struggle in which she falls. Absurd because a stunted form, governed by the laws of propagation, will always be born stunted and can never catch up with the one in the lead, according to the formula:

A (the man) and B (the woman) start from the same point C, A with a speed of, let us say, 100 and B with a speed of 60. When will B overtake A? Answer: never.

Neither with the help of equal education, equal voting rights, disarmament or temperance -- no more than two parallel lines can ever meet and cross.


Je ne vois pas




I got off the bus a few stops early, it was raining and I was wearing moccasins but that has happened before and I didn't mind that my feet would be cold and wet. I went to the blockbuster on my street to see if they had the Three Colors trilogy -- they did, but it took us quite some time to collect the pieces. Blue was waiting, Red was in the wrong place, White was hidden. When I came home I made myself some lunch, closed the curtains, lit three candles and began watching these movies.

Now that I've watched them through I will not say much. Except that sometimes a work of art can come too close to things unsaid and almost-said -- too close to things thought and unthought and almost-thought. And the scene where Julie sets the cat on the family of mice -- that was the closest of all.

Je ne vois pas




I got off the bus a few stops early, it was raining and I was wearing moccasins but that has happened before and I didn't mind that my feet would be cold and wet. I went to the blockbuster on my street to see if they had the Three Colors trilogy -- they did, but it took us quite some time to collect the pieces. Blue was waiting, Red was in the wrong place, White was hidden. When I came home I made myself some lunch, closed the curtains, lit three candles and began watching these movies.

Now that I've watched them through I will not say much. Except that sometimes a work of art can come too close to things unsaid and almost-said -- too close to things thought and unthought and almost-thought. And the scene where Julie sets the cat on the family of mice -- that was the closest of all.

A Tigers Christmas Poem

Christmas Tiger Pictures, Images and Photos
Thanksgiving's over and that puts us officially into the holiday season. Hooray. Since the Tigers haven't offered us any gifts yet this offseason, I give you mine. Sure, it's early, but everyone's been good this year, right?

A Visit From St. Leyland
Twas the night before Christmas,
At Comerica Park.
Not a deal had been reported,
The fans being left in the dark.

Dave Dombrowski was nestled,
All snug in his bed,
While visions of Julio Lugo,
Danced in his head.

When at the front door,
There arose such a clatter!
Dave jumped out of bed,
To see what was the matter.

Through the halls of his mansion,
He flew like a flash,
But stopped at a bookcase,
To hide Magglio's bonus cash.

Approaching the front door,
He thought he would choke.
The stench was of cheap whiskey,
And cigarette smoke.

And who when opening
The front door would appear?
It was a wasted Jim Leyland,
His face twisted in fear.

He'd been drinking all day,
His roster made him feel ill.
So to Dave's house he went,
And he was going for the kill.

"Screw Lugo, Screw Jack Wilson,
Forget Cora and Khalil!
No more Sheffields or Edgars,
This time make a GOOD deal!"

"And find me a catcher!
You traded mine for The Farns!
Dusty Ryan couldn't hit
The broad side of a barn."

"My bullpen's in shambles,
And that Willis, I do hate!
And do me a favor,
Release that worthless punk, Nate."

Jim paused at this point,
Took a swig from his flask.
He lit up a Marlboro,
His fury not able to mask.

He pointed at Dave,
And let you a yell!
"If you fire me for YOUR mess,
You'll be burning in hell!"

"When I started with this team,
They hadn't won a thing!
An embarassment on the field,
And owned by the Pizza King."

"Then you brought over Pudge,
Got Rogers and Maggs.
But the guys we have now,
Are nothing more than scumbags!"

"Sheffield is done,
Now that he has to pee in a cup.
And that idiot, Bonderman,
Still can't learn a changeup."

"Inge's batting average,
Still at the Mendoza line.
And do I have to start Ramon?
He should be riding the pine."

"Just give me something!
A Fuentes or a Furcal.
Just no more Gary Glovers,
He throws too much like a gal."

"Just help me out, Dave.
I don't care what you pay.
I mean, for crissakes...
I'm smoking four packs a day!"

"What the hell's wrong with you?"
Dave let you with a yell.
"If I liked to be losing,
We'd still have Buddy Bell!"

"I gave you winning pieces,
And this ballclub's become cursed!
I mean pick Guillen's position!
Is it left, third, or first?"

"Be harder on these guys!
And teach them to win!
Now, get off of my property,
And don't come back here again!"

Dave slammed closed the door,
And let out a sigh.
He somehow felt better,
And didn't know if to laugh or to cry.

But out on the lawn,
Leyland felt like a sap.
So he dropped down his pants,
And on the porch left a big crap.

And now finally leaving,
Final words Jim had gasped:
"Screw you Dave Dombrowski!
Thanks to you we'll still be last!"

Here's to a happy holiday season, kids. I wish you all the best. Thanks for reading.

Incarcerated


[Brueghel - Proverbs (detail)]


I go on -- with these words of others. Today I watched the rain streak windowpanes as I finished re-reading Nausea, with a secret smile (I know now what to think about this book -- it does not fool me as it had fooled me before). Today I began reading the Trial as I snaked through a line ending at a bureaucratic theft of money that was never mine ('your appeal of the fee has not yet been approved; we cannot process your class enrollment until you pay that fee, whether or not your appeal is granted; no, there is no one to whom you can speak about this') Yesterday I re-read the Birth of Tragedy, marveling at how closely that and the Magic Mountain intertwine. I marvel also at the presence of Nausea in that book. I read, and read, and read. I re-read Hans' picture of the homo Dei, I re-read my notes on a life of Catherine of Siena, I re-read my notes on the Brothers Karamazov. I begin notes on the Alexandria Quartet, on love and art, and I leave them tattered. I begin notes on "The Perfecting of a Love" and leave them quickly. I think of the Symposium, with an inward smile at my understanding of Rousseau now, also Musil. I write real words with real pens on real paper -- they fail me, but I am accustomed to that.

I could spend my life tangled in the words of others. I could be like Sartre's Self-Taught Man -- I could hope that all my thoughts had already been written -- wouldn't that make the entire process simpler? I could babble on here -- catching tatters in my amateur fists -- tatters of words tossed out into my world -- I could catch them and put them in my mouth, like a small child. Put them in my mouth, coat them with my saliva, then spit them out -- I would make them mine but thy would always be so many fragments, never a whole. For to be an artist is to dare -- to sleep-walk a little -- to believe, for even a moment, that is is good to fill the world with oneself.

We understand this comedy: I, for instance, demand simply and directly that I be destroyed. No, they say, live, because without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were sensible, nothing would happen. Without you there would be no events, and there must be events. And so I serve grudgingly, for the sake of events, and so I do the unreasonable on orders. People take this whole comedy for something serious, despite all their undeniable intelligence. That is their tragedy. Well, they suffer, of course ... but still they live, they live really, not in fantasy; for suffering is life. Without suffering, what pleasure would there be in it -- everything would turn into an endless prayer service: holy, but a bit dull. And me? I suffer, and still I don't live. I am an x in an indeterminate equation. I am some sort of a ghost of life who has lost all ends and beginnings, and I've finally even forgotten what to call myself ... I would give all of that life beyond the stars all ranks and honors, only to be incarcerated in the soul of a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound merchant's wife and light candles to God.

--Dostoevsky

Incarcerated


[Brueghel - Proverbs (detail)]


I go on -- with these words of others. Today I watched the rain streak windowpanes as I finished re-reading Nausea, with a secret smile (I know now what to think about this book -- it does not fool me as it had fooled me before). Today I began reading the Trial as I snaked through a line ending at a bureaucratic theft of money that was never mine ('your appeal of the fee has not yet been approved; we cannot process your class enrollment until you pay that fee, whether or not your appeal is granted; no, there is no one to whom you can speak about this') Yesterday I re-read the Birth of Tragedy, marveling at how closely that and the Magic Mountain intertwine. I marvel also at the presence of Nausea in that book. I read, and read, and read. I re-read Hans' picture of the homo Dei, I re-read my notes on a life of Catherine of Siena, I re-read my notes on the Brothers Karamazov. I begin notes on the Alexandria Quartet, on love and art, and I leave them tattered. I begin notes on "The Perfecting of a Love" and leave them quickly. I think of the Symposium, with an inward smile at my understanding of Rousseau now, also Musil. I write real words with real pens on real paper -- they fail me, but I am accustomed to that.

I could spend my life tangled in the words of others. I could be like Sartre's Self-Taught Man -- I could hope that all my thoughts had already been written -- wouldn't that make the entire process simpler? I could babble on here -- catching tatters in my amateur fists -- tatters of words tossed out into my world -- I could catch them and put them in my mouth, like a small child. Put them in my mouth, coat them with my saliva, then spit them out -- I would make them mine but thy would always be so many fragments, never a whole. For to be an artist is to dare -- to sleep-walk a little -- to believe, for even a moment, that is is good to fill the world with oneself.

We understand this comedy: I, for instance, demand simply and directly that I be destroyed. No, they say, live, because without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were sensible, nothing would happen. Without you there would be no events, and there must be events. And so I serve grudgingly, for the sake of events, and so I do the unreasonable on orders. People take this whole comedy for something serious, despite all their undeniable intelligence. That is their tragedy. Well, they suffer, of course ... but still they live, they live really, not in fantasy; for suffering is life. Without suffering, what pleasure would there be in it -- everything would turn into an endless prayer service: holy, but a bit dull. And me? I suffer, and still I don't live. I am an x in an indeterminate equation. I am some sort of a ghost of life who has lost all ends and beginnings, and I've finally even forgotten what to call myself ... I would give all of that life beyond the stars all ranks and honors, only to be incarcerated in the soul of a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound merchant's wife and light candles to God.

--Dostoevsky

Silly Saturday !

~~~ This is the Sugar Plum whatsit bringing you a few Saturday funnies!


~~~ ~~~ ~~~ A view I need to see often to keep me going ...

~ OMG is 'this' what folk look like when they have been together for a long time?

Hi Folks,

Well, I had a day away from Rob yesterday - I went down to Helensburgh and met my girlfriend and we had a girl's day out - a chinese meal, some shopping and then home to her house for a long chat and a catch-up and cuppa before I left to come home. It was brilliant and a real change to get away from the house (and Rob) for a wee while. I hadn't been to Helensburgh for months and it was great to relax, have a look at the sea, breathed in some sea air and relaxed while I just 'had a gab'. So I'm feeling a bit more like myself and ready for the total madness that is Christmas as well as trying to cope with a sick and fed-up husband who is not used to being ill !

I have a few new funnies so I hope you enjoy some laughs on this 'Silly Saturday'...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
OOOHH My !
The couple were 85 years old and had been married for sixty years. (couple shown in the above photo) Though they were far from rich, they managed to get by because they watched their pennies. Though not young, they were both in very good health, largely due to the wife's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade. One day, their good health didn't help when they went on a rare vacation and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven. They reached the pearly gates, and St.. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favourite clothes in the closet. They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now.' The old man asked Peter how much all this was going to cost. 'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'
The old man looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth.. 'What are the greens fees?,' grumbled the old man. 'This is heaven,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free, every day.' Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages. 'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to the man. This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.' The old man looked around and glanced nervously at his wife. 'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods and the decaffeinated tea?,' he asked. That's the best part,' St. Peter replied. 'You can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!' The old man pushed, 'No gym to work out at?'
'Not unless you want to,' was the answer. 'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...' 'Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.' The old man glared at his wife and said, 'You and your flippen bran Flakes. We could have been here ten years ago!'
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Computer Problem
I was having trouble with my computer. So I called Richard, the 11 year Old next door, whose bedroom looks like Mission Control, and asked him to come over. Richard clicked a couple of buttons and solved the problem as he was walking away, I called after him, 'So, what was wrong? He replied, 'It was an ID ten T error.' I didn't want to appear stupid, but nonetheless inquired, 'An, IDTen T error? What's that? In case I need to fix it again.' Richard grinned. 'Haven't you ever heard of an ID ten T errorBefore?''No,' I replied.'Write it down,' he said, 'and I think you'll figure it out.' So I wrote down: I D 1 0 T I used to like the little beggar !
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
OOpppppsss...
A woman was having a daytime affair while her husband was at work. One rainy day she was in bed with her boyfriend when, to her horror, she heard her husband's car pull into the driveway. 'Oh my God - Hurry! Grab your clothes and jump out the window. My husband's home early!'
'I can't jump out the window. It's raining out there!'
'If my husband catches us in here, he'll kill us both!' she replied. 'He's got a hot temper and a gun, so the rain is the least of your problems!'
So the boyfriend scoots out of bed, grabs his clothes and jumps out the window! As he ran down the street in the pouring rain, he quickly discovered he had run right into the middle of the town's annual marathon, so he started running along beside the others, about 300 of them.
Being naked, with his clothes tucked under his arm, he tried to blend in as best he could. After a little while a small group of runners who had been watching him with some curiosity, jogged closer.
Do you always run in the nude?' one asked.
'Oh yes!' he replied, gasping in air. 'It feels so wonderfully free!'
Another runner moved along side. 'Do you always run carrying your clothes with you under your arm?'
'Oh, yes' our friend answered breathlessly. 'That way I can get dressed right at the end of the run and get in my car to go home!'
Then a third runner cast his eyes a little lower and asked, 'Do you always wear a condom when you run?'

'Nope...just when it's raining.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~


Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Tigers in USA Today Sports Weekly

detroit tigers Pictures, Images and Photos
This week's issue of USA Today Sports Weekly has organizational reports for the Tigers and Giants. To save you the $1.75 you'd have to drop to check it out, here's some highlights.

-We need help at shortstop, catcher, and in the bullpen. Also, the sky is blue, water is wet, and Ozzie Guillen is a nutjob. Thanks a lot, USA Today.

-Interesting note: In 2005, our highest paid player was, my lord and savior, Bobby Higginson at $8.9 million. This year, Dontrelle Willis, Carlos Guillen, Jeremy Bonderman, Gary Sheffield, Miguel Cabrera, and Magglio Ordonez all have salaries between $10 million and $18 million.

-DD on why Verlander sucked this year: "If we knew, we would have fixed it at the time. He just has to pitch better." Mr. D...I keep defending you on my crappy blog. Don't make dumb comments like this anymore. You sound like a moron.

-DD thinks part of Dontrelle's problem this year could have been the Tigers adjusting his delivery. Translation: "Chuck Hernandez is a piece of dog crap." I guess Chuck taking the rap is better than saying Willis was 25 pounds overweight all year and you should have seen him pitch before giving that extension, huh, David?

-Renteria, Guillen, and Cabrera sucked at defense last year. Yes, they pretty much point out the obvious throughout this three page spread.

-The last page is a prospect report with bits on Iorg, Worth, Porcello, Larish, Strieby, Rhymes, Fien, Kibler, Marte, and Simons. Thankfully, they didn't compare Rhymes to David Eckstein. Scariest bit on all of them? Their comment about Casey Fien: "His biggest challenge is to be consistent in keeping the ball down in the zone." Uh oh...

-Overall, I actually feel a bit better about the club than I did in my last post where I basically declared the team a sinking ship. Check it out if you've got seven quarters burning a hole in your pocket.

Other than that, have a Happy Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure all of our $10 million men will be.

Little Johnny/Two amazing pictures/Some Videos...

Hi Folks,

This is Little Johnny, an Angel or an Imp in the disguise of a small boy......
He's at it again..... A new teacher was trying to make use of her psychology courses. She started her class by saying, 'Everyone who thinks they're stupid, stand up!' After a few seconds, Little Johnny stood up. The teacher said, 'Do you think you're stupid, Little Johnny?' 'No, ma'am, but I hate to see you standing there all by yourself!'

Little Johnny watched, fascinated, as his mother smoothed cold cream on her face. 'Why do you do that, mommy?' he asked. 'To make myself beautiful,' said his mother, who then began removing the cream with a tissue. 'What's the matter?' asked Little Johnny. 'Giving up?'

The math teacher saw that little Johnny wasn't paying attention in class. She called on him and said, 'Johnny! What are 2 and 4 and 28 and 44?' Little Johnny quickly replied, 'NBC, FOX, ESPN and the Cartoon Network!'
Little Johnny's kindergarten class was on a field trip to their local police station where they saw pictures tacked to a bulletin board of the 10 most wanted criminals. One of the youngsters pointed to a picture and asked if it really was the photo of a wanted person. 'Yes,' said the policeman. 'The detectives want very badly to capture him.'Little Johnny asked, 'Why didn't you keep him when you took his picture ?'

Little Johnny attended a horse auction with his father. He watched as his father moved from horse to horse, running his hands up and down the horse's legs and rump, and chest. After a few minutes, Johnny asked, 'Dad, why are you doing that?' His father replied, 'Because when I'm buying horses,I have to make sure that they are healthy and in good shape before I buy. Johnny, looking worried, said, 'Dad, I think the UPS guy wants to buy Mom .'

If this brightened your day, don't let it s top here. Pass it on with a smile. Keep spreading the cheer! Pass on to your friends! They will like Johnny too you know!
P.S. Judy, Wee Johnny has a certain sweet impish look of Thomas Wyatt about him don't you think ?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
This is a ceiling mural in a Smoker's Lounge.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

There's another……below a BATHROOM with a painted floor ! IMAGINE YOU ARE AT A PARTY on the 10th floor of a hi-rise building........and then you have to visit the Bathroom... You open the door - Uh OHHH !! Remember the floor is just painted ! It still kind of takes your breath away though doesn't it ?


The last item on this blog comes from an email I got from my Brother-in-law John in Dumfries it appealed to my sense of humour and fair play and it also made me laugh out loud - I hope you enjoy it too. This is Karma !

The next wee video is of the Beatles singing 'And I Love Her'... which I found by accident - it's accompanied by fantastic shots of some of the beautiful people who were Film Superstars when we really did have Superstars.... Those of you who were teenagers at the time of this video and music will know what I mean ...

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=96YQdiMV-Jc

The last one is added as pure indulgence, because although I loved the sixties sound I 'adored' musicals and the film 'Showboat'. Out of all the musicals I watched it was the one I loved most and thought of it as being the best, it featured Kathryn Grayson and Howard Keel . I must have watched it thirty times and it always managed to press my buttons. I even went to see the musical show performed in the Glasgow Kings Theatre, it wasn't the same though, it was the film I found magical .

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=nwaJF5HNkJ0

Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Surfeit



And in the end you'll all be locked together, like those poor beasts that get their antlers mixed and are found dead that way, their heads fattened with a knowledge of each other they never wanted, having had to contemplate each other head-on and eye to eye, until death ...
--Nightwood


And now perhaps I'll be able to say something of mine own. Perhaps.

Surfeit



And in the end you'll all be locked together, like those poor beasts that get their antlers mixed and are found dead that way, their heads fattened with a knowledge of each other they never wanted, having had to contemplate each other head-on and eye to eye, until death ...
--Nightwood


And now perhaps I'll be able to say something of mine own. Perhaps.

Toward


"First you have to know and understand intellectually what you want to do -- then you have to sleep-walk a little to reach it. The real obstacle is oneself. I believe that artists are composed of vanity, indolence and self-regard. Work-blocks are caused by the swelling-up of the ego on one or more of these fronts. You get a bit scared about the imaginary importance of what you are doing. Mirror-worship. My solution would be to slap a poultice on the inflamed parts -- tell your ego to go to hell and not make a misery of what should be essentially fun, joy."

--Pursewarden to Clea in Durrell's Clea

Philip was seized with a restlessness which grew more and more intense. He had always felt isolated in the circle of his own emotions and he knew very well from long experience how difficult it is to rouse the people around one to the intensity of one's own feelings. Man lives in a closed world, has his own beauties, his own nervous excitements, intense and often rapturous and genuinely beautiful -- but to inspire others with this beauty, with the genuineness of one's own rapture, is hard, and very often impossible of achievement. Impossible indeed!

--Krleza's The Return of Philip Latinowicz

Toward


"First you have to know and understand intellectually what you want to do -- then you have to sleep-walk a little to reach it. The real obstacle is oneself. I believe that artists are composed of vanity, indolence and self-regard. Work-blocks are caused by the swelling-up of the ego on one or more of these fronts. You get a bit scared about the imaginary importance of what you are doing. Mirror-worship. My solution would be to slap a poultice on the inflamed parts -- tell your ego to go to hell and not make a misery of what should be essentially fun, joy."

--Pursewarden to Clea in Durrell's Clea

Philip was seized with a restlessness which grew more and more intense. He had always felt isolated in the circle of his own emotions and he knew very well from long experience how difficult it is to rouse the people around one to the intensity of one's own feelings. Man lives in a closed world, has his own beauties, his own nervous excitements, intense and often rapturous and genuinely beautiful -- but to inspire others with this beauty, with the genuineness of one's own rapture, is hard, and very often impossible of achievement. Impossible indeed!

--Krleza's The Return of Philip Latinowicz

Essai


[via blind pony books]


[None of my own words]

[via wood s lot; 1986 interview of Thomas Bernhard by Asta Scheib]

AS: When did you last feel happy?

TB: One feels happiness each day, you're happy to be alive and not dead already. That's a great capital. From the person who died, I know that you love life to the very last moment. Basically, everyone loves to live. Life cannot be so terrible that you don't keep on with it after all. The motivation is curiosity. You want to know: what will come next? It is more interesting to know what will come tomorrow then what is here today. When the body is ill the brain develops astonishingly well.

I prefer to know everything. And I always try to rob people and get everything that is in them out of them. As long as you can do so without the others recognizing it. When people discover that you want to rob them they shut their doors. Like the doors are shut when someone suspect comes near. But if nothing else is possible you can also break in. Everyone has some cellar window open. That also can be quite appealing.

[...]

AS: Have you accepted your existence as a writer?

TB: Well, one wants to get better at writing, because otherwise you become crazy. That happens when you get older. The composition should always get more concise. I always tried to do something better when going on. To take the next step depend on the one before. Of course one always has the same theme. Everyone has his theme. He should move around in that theme. Then he does it well. There were many ideas. Maybe one wants to become monk, or work on the railroad, or cut wood. One wants to belong to the very simple people. That's of course a mistake, because you do not belong. If one is like I am something like that is of course impossible, one cannot be a monk or work on the railroad. I was always a loner. Despite that one strong relationship I was always alone. At the beginning of course I thought I had to go somewhere and join in the conversation.

[...]

One still likes some old philosophers, some aphorisms. It's almost like fleeing into music. For hours you enter into a wonderful mood. I still have plans. I once had four or five, now I have two or three. But it's not necessary. I don't need it and the world doesn't need it either. When I feel like writing I write, when I don't feel like it I don't. Whatever you write it's always a catastrophe. That's the depressing thing about the fate of a writer. One can never put on paper what one thought of or imagined. That gets lost when it is put onto paper. All you deliver is a bad, ridiculous copy of what you had imagined. Basically, one cannot communicate all that. No one ever managed to do so. It's especially hard in the German language because that language is wooden and clumsy, disgusting. A terrible language that kills everything light and wonderful. The only thing one can do is sublimate that language with a rhythm to give it musicality. When I write it's in the end never what I had thought it would be like. That's less frustrating with books because you think the reader has her own imagination. Maybe the flower will blossom after all, will unfold its leaves. In the theater only the curtain unfolds. Those are human actors who suffered for month before the first performance. Those people were meant to be the persons one had made up. But they are not. The persons in your head, that had been able to do everything, are of blood and flesh all of a sudden, water and bones. They are clumsy. In your head the play was poetic, great, but the actors are business-like translators. A translation doesn't have a lot to do with the original. So the play that is performed in a theater does not have a lot to do with what the author had created. The stage, the boards were to me boards that always destroyed everything. All is trampled down. Each time it's a catastrophe.

AS: But you continue writing. Books and plays. From one catastrophe to the next.

TB: Yes.

Essai


[via blind pony books]


[None of my own words]

[via wood s lot; 1986 interview of Thomas Bernhard by Asta Scheib]

AS: When did you last feel happy?

TB: One feels happiness each day, you're happy to be alive and not dead already. That's a great capital. From the person who died, I know that you love life to the very last moment. Basically, everyone loves to live. Life cannot be so terrible that you don't keep on with it after all. The motivation is curiosity. You want to know: what will come next? It is more interesting to know what will come tomorrow then what is here today. When the body is ill the brain develops astonishingly well.

I prefer to know everything. And I always try to rob people and get everything that is in them out of them. As long as you can do so without the others recognizing it. When people discover that you want to rob them they shut their doors. Like the doors are shut when someone suspect comes near. But if nothing else is possible you can also break in. Everyone has some cellar window open. That also can be quite appealing.

[...]

AS: Have you accepted your existence as a writer?

TB: Well, one wants to get better at writing, because otherwise you become crazy. That happens when you get older. The composition should always get more concise. I always tried to do something better when going on. To take the next step depend on the one before. Of course one always has the same theme. Everyone has his theme. He should move around in that theme. Then he does it well. There were many ideas. Maybe one wants to become monk, or work on the railroad, or cut wood. One wants to belong to the very simple people. That's of course a mistake, because you do not belong. If one is like I am something like that is of course impossible, one cannot be a monk or work on the railroad. I was always a loner. Despite that one strong relationship I was always alone. At the beginning of course I thought I had to go somewhere and join in the conversation.

[...]

One still likes some old philosophers, some aphorisms. It's almost like fleeing into music. For hours you enter into a wonderful mood. I still have plans. I once had four or five, now I have two or three. But it's not necessary. I don't need it and the world doesn't need it either. When I feel like writing I write, when I don't feel like it I don't. Whatever you write it's always a catastrophe. That's the depressing thing about the fate of a writer. One can never put on paper what one thought of or imagined. That gets lost when it is put onto paper. All you deliver is a bad, ridiculous copy of what you had imagined. Basically, one cannot communicate all that. No one ever managed to do so. It's especially hard in the German language because that language is wooden and clumsy, disgusting. A terrible language that kills everything light and wonderful. The only thing one can do is sublimate that language with a rhythm to give it musicality. When I write it's in the end never what I had thought it would be like. That's less frustrating with books because you think the reader has her own imagination. Maybe the flower will blossom after all, will unfold its leaves. In the theater only the curtain unfolds. Those are human actors who suffered for month before the first performance. Those people were meant to be the persons one had made up. But they are not. The persons in your head, that had been able to do everything, are of blood and flesh all of a sudden, water and bones. They are clumsy. In your head the play was poetic, great, but the actors are business-like translators. A translation doesn't have a lot to do with the original. So the play that is performed in a theater does not have a lot to do with what the author had created. The stage, the boards were to me boards that always destroyed everything. All is trampled down. Each time it's a catastrophe.

AS: But you continue writing. Books and plays. From one catastrophe to the next.

TB: Yes.

Friendships/ A Prayer to God/ Phrases Women Use..


Hi Folks,


Meeting up with friends you lost touch with long ago can be difficult, but for Caroline it turned out to be something wonderful. She found Jane through an online networking site. They'd been best friends at secondary school, but marriage and work had taken them in different directions. She was nervous about arranging to meet up but finally decided to take the plunge.

She and Jane met for lunch and they had a great time! What did she think had made it so special, I asked? Was it all that reminiscing about the good old days? Caroline laughed. Talking about the old days had been fun, she told me, but the bond of friendship was really re-established when the women realised they were both going through hard times in the present.

"When Jane talked about her worries, I listened," Caroline said. "and when I talked about my worries - Jane listened." That was all it took. Surely, a good listening ear has to be any friend's greatest asset.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ oooOOOooo ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Sheila and Alison were telling me about meeting up for tea, they's been talking about how fast time flies. Alison, the younger of the two friends, had recalled a fond memory - then realised it had happened 15 years ago. Those years seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye.

If the next 15 years went past so quickly, Alison realised, it would be no time at all until she was 60! That's when Sheila cleared her throat, trying not to look offended . "My Dear," she said, "I am 60." "I know," Alison grinned, "And if I turn out like you then I'll be over the moon!"

Sheila knew she wasn't just being paid lip-service. Her friend meant every word. You see, age isn't what's on your birth certificate - it's what's in your heart. Sheila had a heart full of love , fun and adventure and Alison will be delighted to follow that example.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ oooOOOooo ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TO: GOD FROM: THE DOG

Dear God: Is it on purpose our names are the same, only reversed? Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another? Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story? Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a Dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the 'Chrysler Eagle' the 'Chrysler Beagle'? Dear God: If a Dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad Dog? Dear God: We Dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand? Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. Dear God: Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize? Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good Dog.

1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell.
3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.
4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.
5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'.
8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table
9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.
10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.
11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.
12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

P.S. Dear God: When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
9 Phrases WOMEN USE
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
(1) Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
(2) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. 'Five minutes' is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
(3) Nothing:
This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with 'nothing' usually end in 'fine'.
(4) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
(5)Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about 'nothing'. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of 'nothing'.)
(6) That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. 'That's okay' means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
(7)Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' .. that will bring on a 'whatever').
(8)Whatever: Is a woman's way of saying 'SCREW YOU'!
(9)Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself.

This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.* Send this to the men you know, to warn them about arguments they can avoid if they remember the terminology......


Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

The Future in Detroit

pink crystal ball Pictures, Images and Photos
With all eyes on what moves DD will make to get us competitive for the 2009 season, I'm actually more worried about what will happen AFTER the '09 campaign. The only big name in the minors is (please don't get hurt) Rick Porcello. But this team is getting old everywhere except first base and center field. Take a look.

C: Um, yeah.
1B: Miguel Cabrera (26 in April, signed through '15)
2B: Placido Polanco (33 and contract up after '09)
3B: Brandon Inge (32 in May, contract up in '10)
SS: Um...sigh.
LF: Carlos Guillen (33, broken down, signed through '11)
CF: Curtis Granderson (28 in March, signed through '12)
RF: Magglio Ordonez (35 in January, signed through '11)
DH: Gary Sheffield (40, up after '09)

The pitching is still fairly young...but is it any good? Will Verlander, Rodney, and Zumaya ever pitch like they did in 2006 again? Will Bonderman ever get over the hump? Will Nate and Dontrelle remember how to pitch better than a AA call up?

If we don't get something done in 2009, this team is in trouble. Expect guys to be dumped in Pudge-like fashion if they play like the '08 season. Do you expect Polonco to be back in 2010? I don't. Guillen? They probably wish he would retire now. Gary...well, we all know what they think there. Magglio may not be traded now, but I don't see him spending much more than another year in D-Town. How's this for your 2011 Tigers team?

C: Dusty Ryan
1B: Miguel Cabrera
2B: Scott Sizemore
3B: Jeff Larish
SS: Cale Iorg
LF: Casper Wells
CF: Curtis Granderson
RF: Matt Joyce
DH: Maggs/Carlos: whoever isn't traded/injured

Scary. Obviously, a lot can change. When we get out from under these Magglio, Nate, Dontrelle, Carlos, and Inge contracts, there will be cash to spend on free agents. Trades can be made. But will DD be around long enough to get to that point? Should he be? Will the young pitching in the minors develop enough to carry us in the coming years? Will I ever become an optimist?

The future looks bleak. I hope my crystal ball is just broken.

Some Funnies...

Hi Folks,
THE OLDER WOMAN
I ended up with an older woman at a club last night. She looked OK for a 61 year-old.
In fact, she wasn't too bad at all, and I found myself thinking that she probably had a really hot daughter. We drank a bit, and had a bit of a snuggle, and then she asked if I'd ever had a Sportsman's Double. 'What's that?' I asked. 'It's a mother and daughter threesome,' she said. I said, 'No' - excitedly. We drank a bit more, then she says that tonight was 'my lucky night'. I went back to her place. She put on the hall light and shouted upstairs: 'Mum, you still awake?'
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
An older, white haired man walked into a jewellery store one Friday evening with a beautiful young girl at his side. He told the jeweller he was looking for a special ring for his girlfriend. The jeweller looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring. The old man said, 'No, I'd like to see something more special.' At that statement, the jeweller went to his special stock and brought another ring over. 'Here's a stunning ring at only $40,000,' the jeweller said. The young lady's eyes sparkled and her whole body trembled with excitement. The old man seeing this said, 'We'll take it.' The jeweller asked how payment would be made and the old man stated, 'by cheque, I know you need to make sure my cheque is good, so I'll write it now, and you can call the bank Monday to verify the funds and I'll pick the ring up Monday afternoon,' he said. Monday morning, the jeweller phoned the old man. 'There's no money in that account.' 'I know,' said the old man, 'But let me tell you about my weekend!'
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Some Glesca Banter ... (Glaswegian sayings)
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
What do you call an illegitimate Scottish insect? A wee fly bastard.
The BBC series on TV was named after the toilet queue at Edinburgh's Waverley Station - The Aww needin line !
What about the Scotsman who lost his testicles in a motorcycle accident? The surgeon re-attached them with Bostik. (Pronounced - Baw stick ie. Ball stick !)
Two negatives make a positive but only in Scotland do two positives make a negative - 'Aye right.' (meaning yeah that will be correct - No way !)
While getting ready to go out, a wee wifie says to her husband: ' Do you think I'm getting a wee bit pigeon chested?' And he says: 'Aye, but that's why I love you like a doo.' (in Glasgow a pigeon is called a doo!)
What do you call a pigeon that goes to Aviemore for its holidays? ' A skean dhu. ' (pronounced 'a skiing doo')
How many Spanish guys does it take to change a lightbulb? Just Juan. (pronounced Just wahn-or one)..
A man takes a pair of shoes back to the shop and complains that there is a lace missing. 'No,' argues the assistant, 'look at the label - it says Taiwan .' (Pronouced tie wahn but Meaning Tie 'one' )
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Two funny Videos... Enjoy !
Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

Aprons, Nans and blethers...Oh and an Angel's gift.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Mum, Nana (the first Kate Barr) and I ..~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ A picture which has the Awwww factor !
Hi Folks,

I've just had a look at Judy's site and read her blog about women wearing aprons, now I don't know why but my Mum never ( in my memory ) wore an apron, but I do remember my Nan wearing aprons, the ones that you put over your head and they had material which covered the sides and front of their work dresses and ties which were then secured at the back. Blimey I remember one year at secondary school in Domestic Science Class we had to sew an apron - Oh how I ' hated' sewing - too pernickety for me, I preferred to go to the Art, English or History classes...

Talking about things women wore in times gone by, my Nan used to wear an awful lot of black she seemed to wear black most of the time, it was pretty much like a kind of uniform (as can be seen in the photo above). I calculated that she would only have been 58 when these photos were taken which is amazing really when you think about how women of that age dress today.
I went to the the Market yesterday to see what I could find in the way of extra items to put in my grandchildrens bags for Christmas and I did manage to get a few things which will add to their 'swag'. I took my camera thinking I could catch some good shots of the madness which is 'The Market' (having got the hint from June's blog in the morning). Unfortunately I forgot that I stayed in Scotland where we have four seasons in one day and by the time I had put me jacket on and lifted bag and car keys the rain had started - and there it stayed ! my camera also stayed within the confines of my bag too ! arrrrghghhh ..... never mind, can do it another day !
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
I was reading yesterdays paper and came across this item which kind of unsettled me a bit, Flaming Nora, how would you like this experience ?

"We picked up a hire car at Alicante airport and set off along the N-332 Alicante to Cartagena road to Playa Flamenca. Outside Torreveja traffic slowed down to a crawl. Suddenly I heard the screeching of tyres and a car ploughed into the back of me. No-one was injured and insurance details were exchanged. The car was still driveable and we continued to our destination without further ado. A few days later we took a trip along the N-332 into Torreveja and, as we left Playa Flamenca, we saw a car we assumed had been in a collision or broken down. As we got a closer about 10 people in balaclavas jumped out and pointed guns at the car. One of the men jumped in front of our car and demanded we stop. My wife and I began to panic. Were we about to be robbed - or worse? As our hearts raced in anticipation, the masked guy simply waved us on. When we drove past the car that was blocking the road we saw a man slumped actoss the bonnet, hands handcuffed behind his back and two of the hooded people pointing their guns at him. You've no idea how glad we were to get away ! I asked around that night but no-one had heard anything about an incident. Back home, I found on-line footage of a drugs bust on the A7 toll road in Spain with the arresting officers wearing the same balaclavas."
That's what you call ' justice' ......... In 'this' country (U.K.)

Recently an air stewardess stole £100,000 worth of donations from a charity and the judge fined her £13,000 imposed a two-year suspended sentence and 200 hours of unpaid work. The judge's decision and performance was absolutely unforgivable - who says crime doesn't pay? Murderers sentenced to a 'life sentence' are out of prison within 5-10 years, which makes our justice system a joke and a laughing stock throughout the world.
Sad state of affairs isn't it ?

No wonder asylum seekers are trying all sorts of tricks to enter the U.K. with our lax laws and courts and people being able to lead a 'social security' lifestyle without too much hassle. It is well known that a lot of people will have trekked through God knows how many countries in Europe to get to U.K. and once they get here, they manage to screw the system as much as possible. They then have arrived at the Land of Milk and Honey . I'm not saying all immigrants have done this but there are one hell of lot of them who have . The crazy and maddening thing is there are a lot of honest people who arrive here ready to work for a better life for their families and unfortunately the others get them a bad name.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
I have just re-read this post and I feel like giving meself a ruddy shake so - have a look at this one I received this morning...
That Little Penny
When I see a penny in the parking lot I always pick them up and give it to the person I'm with or the next person I see - with the wee saying - "See a penny pick it up and all that day you'll have good luck - so, Good Luck " ! This was the only wee story concerning pennies found on the ground I had heard - until this one and I must admit I like this version too !
I found a penny today laying on the ground. But it's not just a penny, This little coin I've found. 'Found' pennies come from heaven, that's what my Grandpa told me. He said Angels toss them down. Oh, how I loved that story. He said when an Angel misses you, they toss a penny down; Sometimes just to cheer you up, To make a smile out of your frown. So, don't pass by that penny when you're feeling blue. It may be a penny from heaven That an Angel's tossed to you. So now pass this on to people you care about and who you feel are Angels to you. I just did. An Angel is now watching over you. Have A Great Day! 'Dream as if you'll live forever, Live as if you'll die today' ...
~~~ ~~~ ~~~

AWWWWW... Now that's more like it, Cheers folks, Love Kate xxx.

I Can't believe it's (nearly) Christmas...

Hi Folks,

Gosh I didn't get a chance to set up me blog for today (Saturday) last night so I'm sitting here today having a look at my blog and thinking it looks soooo sad and unloved.... so I had a look first at lom's site - as usual and 'that' started my going - CHRISTMAS EH ? not already surely? Where has this year gone ? 'Then' I played her wee video and 'that' got me going... I thought I would have a check around the other video's and the second one I looked at was this one - have a look, I thought it just 'hit the spot'.


Rob is still incapacitated and is feeling kind of low (aren't we all) ... have just served him his first cuppa of the day and a couple of biccies, he didn't want anything else - except his water bottle heated. Soooo, I have half an hour where I can faff about on this PC to get an entry done and enjoy a cuppa myself.

Talk about the start of the Christmas period, we missed a Dinner Dance last night at his club, I am 'Grandchild watching' this afternoon as one of our's is entered in a competition at his skiing club so I am going to 'Cheer for him' due to his Granda's back injury. I was gonna dress up holding flag and all but he is at an age where he would be soooo embarrassed he would never speak to me again - he doesn't say much at the mo - but that would only make it worse.

The shops in the City Centre last night were open again to midnight - in honour of Christmas - aye right! more like looking after their money.... I know I sounded like an old moan there but Hell's Bells, it's not even December and they are talking about all the money they are gonna lose this year.... never mind a lot of places have decorations up and are looking very 'Christmassy' which is lovely to see.

I'm still hoping that I will get my house painting done before the Christmas Holidays ahem.. what dya' think the chances are ? Never mind I can always do it for next year. Having again watched that wee video I've put on here I have got the Christmas Message and realise the real meaning of Christmas again... Let me be the first to say that I hope everyone has a very -

" Happy and Merry Christmas and a very Prosperous New Year " !

Now I'd better move my butt and get on with giving Rob his breakfast .....



Cheers from the land of the Tartan and the Heather, Love Kate xxx.

A sudden phrase


[Library of Congress]
[I've been waiting to post this combo for a while now]



But if you hold a blunt blade to a grindstone long enough, something spurts -- a jagged edge of fire; so held to lack of reason, aimlessness, the usual, all massed together, out spurted one flame hatred, contempt. I took my mind, my being, the old dejected, almost inanimate object and lashed it about among these odds and ends, sticks and straws, detestable little bits of wreckage, flotsam and jetsam, floating on the oily surface. I jumped up, I said, 'Fight.' 'Fight,' I repeated. It is the effort and the struggle, it is the perpetual warfare, it is the shattering and piecing together -- this is the daily battle, defeat or victory, the absorbing pursuit. The trees, scattered, put on order; the thick green of the leaves thinned itself to a dancing light. I netted them under with a sudden phrase. I retrieved them from formlessness with words.


--The Waves

A sudden phrase


[Library of Congress]
[I've been waiting to post this combo for a while now]



But if you hold a blunt blade to a grindstone long enough, something spurts -- a jagged edge of fire; so held to lack of reason, aimlessness, the usual, all massed together, out spurted one flame hatred, contempt. I took my mind, my being, the old dejected, almost inanimate object and lashed it about among these odds and ends, sticks and straws, detestable little bits of wreckage, flotsam and jetsam, floating on the oily surface. I jumped up, I said, 'Fight.' 'Fight,' I repeated. It is the effort and the struggle, it is the perpetual warfare, it is the shattering and piecing together -- this is the daily battle, defeat or victory, the absorbing pursuit. The trees, scattered, put on order; the thick green of the leaves thinned itself to a dancing light. I netted them under with a sudden phrase. I retrieved them from formlessness with words.


--The Waves