Virginia Breeze

I feel the tiredness that tells me it will only be a few moments after resting in the bed before the sleep train will pull out of the station.   It feels so good.  And here is a flower photo because it has been awhile and flowers are our friends.  I should appreciate them more.  Maybe have some growing here in this room.   But now. . .sleep.

And then it is morning again.  Just like that!  And so dependable.  Never once has it failed to arrive although, of course, people don’t make it through the night all the time.  I hope to be one of those someday.  Just let me drift off in a dream and not return.

Here is a photo that struck me as being sort of interesting this morning.  Apparently we are heading back to  botanical garden mode as far as photos are concerned.  We are leaving the tropics behind.  We are leaving poetry and writing behind too.  I hear the sighs of relief.   Where are we going?  Not sure yet.  This weekend there is an air show around here.  But it’s supposed to rain?  Saturday is not going to be a good day for the US Open I hear.  Last night they said something about it during the Andy Roddick match.  I went to bed as they began the fourth set.  Who won?

So it’s maybe not going to be a good weekend to be outside.   But we shall survive.  Maybe I will read and write about some really good authors and poets.  I strayed too far outside my comfort zone in those areas and need to retire for awhile.  Maybe watch Craig Ferguson for a few hours.  He is so hilarious.  He has more energy than all the other guys put together and he is so funny.  In my opinion anyway.  Everyone has their favorite.  Beth really likes Dave.  The guy who has been distributing meat and cheeses to the Tri-state area for how long?  I don’t get it.

Labor Day is just around the corner and summer is coming to an end.  I realize that some of us will still go to the beach in September and maybe even put our toes in the water.   But for reasons having to do with official policy summer is over.

“IT’S OVER!”

And it’s time to have a little philosophical moment here.  Why?  I don’t know.  Because we can?  Because we are bored and need something to do?

Because we have started referring to ourselves in the plural again and need to find a way to stop doing this?  We are not the Pope.  We will never be the Pope although we do have a rather bizarre fantasy about leading the world into the new millenium with our blogging efforts.

“Has he written a new post today?”  Words that will someday reverberate around the world in millions of homes.  NOT.

TODAY I would like to discuss with you a little problem that I have been noticing now for about, oh, many   years.

I know that there was a day before yesterday and a day before that and so forth.  But there must also be a day before the first day I can remember.  I know that I was born on December 25 (haha) 1948 and there must have been a day before that and so on back, back and back to the beginning.

Beginning?  Did I say beginning?  Well there must have been a beginning right?  Things have not just gone on forever.  So if there was a start somewhere eons ago then what was happening before the start?  NOTHING!

That’s why there was a start because before that there was nothing.  But, then, if there was nothing how could something have started out of nothing.  How could time have gotten started out of nothing all by itself?  That seems impossible.  So there was not a beginning perhaps.

And there will not be an end.

And that would mean that time actually does not exist. Because time is based on things starting and stopping or having a beginning and an end.

So maybe we just dreamed all of this up .  Maybe life is a dream!  And the fact that we go to bed every night, sleep and have dreams is a clue!   Because we wake up and say “Oh!  Good.  That was just a dream (if we just started WWIII) or Darn! That’s not good.  How do I get back into that dream?  (If we were having a nice time with Angelina while Brad was away making a movie  -He took all the kids with him). Maybe when we die we wake up and go “OMG what a strange dream I just had”.

Maybe we are dreaming right now.  You are reading this but you are dreaming.  I’m writing it but I am dreaming.  We think that dinner will be in a couple of hours but we are dreaming (Especially if we are supposed to be  making it and instead are goofing off at the computer.)

It’s all just a dream.  And one day we will wake up and go “Man!  That was some dream!

I wonder if we will still have the problem with time when/if that happens?  Because if it happens and I “wake up” and realize this gig is over and then look around and realize I’m still “doing time” I’m going to be really ticked !

Because that will mean I just went from one dream to another dream.  Maybe it will be a nicer dream.  But it will still be a dream.  And so the process will start over again.  Hopefully my hard drive will go with me wherever I end up so I can check these notes and make certain additions.

And communicate with the rest of you!

“Has he written another post yet today?”

How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o’-the wisp! A clown!

–The Sound of Music

Remember this song? Some nuns sing it about Julie Andrews. She just doesn’t want to adopt the program. Well I sing it about Evita.

How do you solve a problem like Evita?

Because every time i read one of her posts I end up throwing something out! First it was the rum!

And now it’s my teflon coated frying pan!

http://evolvingwellness.com/posts/160/green-teflon/

I really hope she doesn’t decide that dog hair is bad for us. Sparky would have a fit. Malarky would start reading the help wanted section of the newspaper. And I would have to sleep with one eye open.

But frying pans are not really the issue today. Because I am addicted to sugar. It’s in just about everything we eat and it’s very addicting. You go into withdrawal if you don’t have your fix after awhile.

And I can’t stand the idea of being addicted to anything. So now your blogging buddy is on a diet. And he’s also walking every day. This morning we walked for forty five minutes. That’s up fifty percent from yesterday. And it’s up 150 percent from the day before. Because way back then we were just walking from the living room to the kitchen and back again.

When I noticed that we might one day go in the medical books as a miracle of some sort. Because it looks from up here like we are going to have a baby.

Blogger this year. Reality show icon next year. Right after the cute show about the parents who got six kids at one time after they took fertility drugs.

When I read Evita she mesmerizes me. I’m not sure if I believe everything she says but it doesn’t seem to matter much. Because I was due for an overhaul and she is the only one I see who has a nice looking blog and seems ready to go there with me.

Because when you do stuff like this you need to become really motivated. It’s an extreme deal until new habits are established and pick up some of the load. And even then it’s not a piece of cake as we all know. Hhmmm cake. I have been carrying around a tube of Ritz diet crackers for those moments when death due to starvation seems imminent. And a bottle of diet Seven-Up.

Please don’t tell me they are going to kill me too Evita! I need something!

Sigh. Why am I doing this?

Because you can be a senior citizen who is healthy or at least trying to be or you can go the other way.

Choose. That’s why.

Grumps must move on. . . .have a nice morning.

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The Beatles/ I’m So Tired

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Children laugh long and play under the sun

While waves crash around their happy actions.

And I was out there for a short while too

Watching a babe who was lithe and dark tanned.

When the ocean quite fast zeroed in on its man

And knocked me sideways onto my tender can.

Tumbling around in a large playful wave

I suddenly knew I should try to behave

And struggling emerged from a watery grave

To rest my poor bod in some inviting shade.

“Dear Father”

“Lay us down now

Let us rest for awhile

May the heat heal somehow

And improve our profiles.

The sound of children

Splashing nearby

Mend our souls and make us sane

Before we try to swim again.”

“Amen”.

It’s safer watching them from here.

The radar’s working well this year.

It seeks and finds brief suits defined

Curvaceous thighs victorious smiles. . .

I think it may be time to go

Back to my liquid filled furrow!

But now I feel the need to rest

Sleep slowly does my brow caress

The sound of booming waves assists

And soon I’m gone in dreams of bliss.

Dreaming I’ m a little boy

Perhaps of three or four

Playing on the water’s edge

Watching someone smile my way

A presence lovelier than any

Love eyes

You know from your own birth

Those gifts

From God that fill the earth.

She suddenly laughs and tenderly asks

“Did you love the wave I sent your way

My present to you on this wonderful day

As your thoughts were wandering

So very far away?”

Her eyes danced with fire soft starlight too

And her voice endless chimes did excite.

Her image shimmered as morning dew

In a changing gown of pure light.

Then the ocean stilled

As the waves ceased their motion

And all on the beach

Gathered round in devotion.

WHAT?!!

I awoke with a start!

Ran down to the shore

Dove into the water

Looked around for her alter.

No longer hunting for someone fair

With delicious body and long golden hair.

But seeking the love that keeps us alive

And wanting the source of the waves and our lives.

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More poetry from Davidlind

Love’s Aging Moments

For all the different loves there are
I find this one to be by far
The one that keeps me up at night
The one that brings us most delight.

It calls to me each time to climb
The tree of passion fruit divine.
Although I sometimes fail to see
The bending grass that waits for me.

And yes I sometimes fall from grace
And land upon a softer place.
These things they seem to come and go
Like antlers on a dear old foe.

I wish our love could always find
Aphrodite and her shrine
Upon the ocean’s frothy shore
So I could dive and fall no more.

Read more. . .

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