I Got Your Number When You Walked Thru The Door

Did anyone but me get the reference to a 1980s, two-hit wonder band called Sugarloaf?

If Mankind was not “Created” or “Intelligent Design”-ed, we developed our survival skills through evolution.  People are just great at seeing patterns, even where no such pattern exists, and almost always in one direction.  We see faces in clouds, but never clouds in faces

The caveman who saw a sabre tooth tiger in the grass a thousand times when it wasn’t really there, had nothing to answer for.  The fool who didn’t see it when it really was there, only made that mistake once.  He who frights and runs away, lives to fright another day – and sire children.

None of which has any actual bearing on the post I’m about to publish.  I just have a bunch of figures spiralling in toward the event horizon of the black hole of my intellect.  Some of them are vaguely related, but, if you can see a pattern, you’re a better man than I, Charlie Brown, even if you’re one of the impressive ladies who read my posts.

First, there was that little bump to the ego, and sideswipe to the self-esteem when I hit the age of 69.  That little internet birthday party helped buff out the worst of the damage.

Next – the blog is coming along nicely.  The second last award I was given, The Liebster, is only given to bloggers who have less than 200 followers.  A lovely crop of newcomers has recently shown up and pushed my numbers to 215, so I shouldn’t receive another of those, although Sparklebumps is well over 200, and recently had a Liebster thrown at her.  She had the presence of mind, not only to catch it, but to do what I have never bothered to do, translate it, basically, respected or beloved.

If all the numbers added up on the same day, or even within a week, I’d claim a pattern, but they’re too strung out.  Perpetually calm and cool, I don’t ever remember being strung out.  My views recently exceeded 10,000, and my comments are rapidly approaching 3000.  I know that’s not terribly exciting to those among you whose follower counts equal the population of Colombia, or the number of drug dealers in the U. S.  (Wait!  Aren’t they the same thing?)

I was given another lesson in humility recently.  They arrive unannounced, and usually unwanted.  AFrankAngle offered me a link to one of his older posts – March 2009 – not even back to his “In the beginning”, but long before I could spell blog.  He’s published almost every day, and often as loquacious as me, for over five years.

I, on the other hand, still have a bit of paranoia about where my next semi-lucid idea is going to come from, and limit my posts to every three days.  I still compose the occasional non-time-specific post, and tuck it away in a Word file, to be pulled out if I have a bout of brain drought.  This post should go up about number 250, and there seems to be almost 50 more, hidden away, so I should reach at least 300.

The wife jokes (At least I hope she’s joking.) that I could die today, and she could keep pulling them out and publishing them for six months to a year.  If it weren’t for a shortage of smart-ass, inane comments and replies, you guys might never notice, or miss me, and John Erickson being back, yet again, isn’t going to help.

I’ve done 450 on-line crossword puzzles since the last time the computer was initiated.  I had my average time-to-solve down to 8 minutes and 46 seconds, but hit a few real puzzlers and drifted up to 8:52.  The more puzzles I do, the more seconds I need to shave off to affect the average, but I’ve pushed it back down to 8:48.

I told Benzeknees about a local couple who didn’t think they could afford to pay for a marriage ceremony.  Her mother alerted her, and she entered a contest to win a free wedding at a local marriage chapel, and won.  They were wed on the 11th month, the 12th day of the 13th year, at 2:00PM, the 14th hour, at 15 Queen Street.  Any numerologists in the crowd??  What does that signify?  I should know.  I have CDO!  It’s a lot like OCD, but the letters are in the proper alphabetical order!

My numbers for watching The Tonight Show are in a countdown.  I have until Feb. 6, 2014.  I’ve watched the show almost every night since we were married, almost 47 years ago.  The first large segment of that was the Johnny Carson Golden Era.

I’ve seen a few of the original Steve Allen episodes.  He could be giddy, and uncontrolled in his humor.  I’ve seen a few of the Jack Paar editions.  He could be so cerebral; it was like watching paint dry.  Johnny Carson was the perfect mix, a bit of magic, a wide range of humor, good guests, great interviews, and very little ego.

I sent a letter endorsing Jay Leno as his replacement, and a submission for his “Headlines” bit.  I got back a nice letter, and an 8” X 12” autographed photo.  I’ve watched a bit of Jimmy Fallon, who will replace him, but have decided I’m just too old to “get it.”  I could learn how to run Netflix, or just read and blog more.

The anonymous and never questioned They, say that one volunteer/hero is worth a thousand unwilling conscripts.  I feel that the small, but steadily growing circle of continuing, concerned, conversational, commenting, dedicated readers, is worth a showroom full of tire-kickers.  Thanx for stopping by.  🙂

Lost In Thought

Comment-provocateur John Erickson recently published a post about how Depression could derail him from his normal social circles, and send him off into extended bouts of abstruse research.  While our so-called minds don’t chase quite the same shiny objects, I appreciate his problem, because much the same can happen to me.

A typical recent day

I opened my stats page.  Someone had mined my archives and accessed my Trips With Mom And Dad post, from Feb. 18/12. I clicked on it to remind myself of the contents and comments.  This was the 14th post I had published, and was the one where I was given my very first blog-award.  Candice Coghill, for whom I recently published a requiem post, had given me a Versatile Blogger award.

I reread all the comments.  Hers included two links, one to her acceptance-speech post, and the other to the Versatile website. I nostalgically reread her post.  Mine had been the first comment, though, that far back, I didn’t have a good grasp of blog protocol, and hadn’t “liked” it.  Even though it means nothing to anyone but me, I corrected my oversight.

The Versatile logo apparently has worn off my old post, and I went to the site with the vague idea of lifting and re-applying it.  There are almost a hundred comments, over about three years, from people who have received the award.  Some wanted tech help.  Some seemed to think they must declare the receipt of their award.  Others did so with the intent to create some interest and drive readers to their site.

I picked one, not quite at random, a young female who mentioned the “seven facts about me.”  Snoopy is not just Charlie Brown’s dog.  She’s half Filipina, and half Irish-American.  She started out looking like her Dad, but has vitiligo, Michael Jackson’s “drinking bleach” disease, and now is whiter than her Mom.

I “liked” her post, and thought about leaving a long explanatory comment, but didn’t like the idea of an international restraining order.  Finally, the concept of a blog-theme broke through the mental clouds, and I was off to Dictionary.Com to check the meaning of abstruse.  Might as well look up abjure while I’m there – and a couple of others.

Crossword puzzle clue/solution, singer Alma Gluck, turns up fairly regularly, and the name Gluckstein came up recently.  Let’s use the German translation program to get an idea what those names mean.  Gluck could be printed in English as G’luck because, aside from fortune and favor, it means good luck.  Stein means stone, so Gluckstein means good luck stone, a magic amulet, or charm.

I could almost see Google beckoning to me.  Exactly who, what, and when was Alma Gluck??  She was a Romanian-Jew named Rebecca Feinsohn, who came to America around the beginning of the 20th Century.  She had a beautiful soprano voice and wanted to get into the entertainment business.  Since, at that time, Jews weren’t openly tolerated, she became the German, Alma Gluck.

Feinsohn translates as “fine son”, but “fine” used to mean small or delicate, like fine thread, or fine-grit sandpaper.  Was the progenitor of this surname small and delicate, or was he the A-one son we might think him today?

In the meantime, this Jewess, from a third of the planet away, became well-known for singing American folksongs like Carry Me Back to Old Virginny, and Swanee River with her husband, entertainer Efrem Zimbalist, not Junior, the original.  Now I know, who had no imagination.

I was down and up the stairs a half-dozen times.  I had to, to wear off all the food I stuff in my face.  It’s a good thing you didn’t see the platter of nachos I made myself for lunch.  I made and served lunch in bed to the wife, who’s still getting over her nasal surgery.  I fed and watered and medicated the cats, and let the dog out and in, each time returning to find out more about the German language, and a woman I’ve only met in newspaper crossword puzzles.

Yesterday’s crossword wanted “Kon-Tiki material” in 5.  Since I thought it was constructed of bundles of bulrush-like plants, I put in “reeds.”  I had to back out and work around to “balsa.”  Dictionary.Com has a crossword solver program, so I entered the clue.  Sure enough, there’s balsa, at the top, with a 90% likelihood.  The 6/7 other possibilities, in rapidly descending order are….interesting.  I copy them and put them in a Word file for a later post.

While I’m over at Google, looking up Alma’s skirt, I plug in Kon-Tiki, and, sure enough, there’s a picture of Heyerdahl’s balsa raft.  Or maybe that’s a photo of a couple of political refugees, on their way to Miami, from Cuba.

I finally heaved my bulk out of the computer chair, and headed downstairs to think about preparing supper.  (I fried up some onions and made up some boxed perogies, in case you care.)  Hot Damn!  It’s almost five PM!  I haven’t read anybody’s blog!  I haven’t read or responded to comments on my site!  I haven’t even read today’s paper, and I’m obsessing about composing this post.

I know I told you that I’d respect you, and call you in the morning but, ….if I haven’t shown up at your site for a couple of days, or a couple of weeks, I still love you.  It’s just that I’m lost in thought, since I have no mental GPS.  I’m probably wandering around in a forest of thoughts, that I can’t see for the trees, trying to entice my intellect back to reality with a virtual ice cream cone.  That explains why I also have a fat head.