Yep, I’m on about stuff this morning.

I hate it when things pile up on my desk and in my brain, and I feel like I can’t do anything about it. Too many things to do beforehand, making it so there’s not enough time to tackle it now. Frustrations are mounting. Before I suck it up and get on with it, I will barf it out onto the page, to wit:

1. I have got to get started on choreography and song selection for Dinner Theatre, but I just can’t carve out the time this week. Is that insane or what? I’m on summer break, fuh cripesake.
2. I practiced for an hour yesterday, and still can’t get the icing roses right. My wrist has now fallen off.
3. I have webmaster stuff for three different sites to take care of, and I haven’t even begun. Time’s a-wastin’.
4. Can’t believe I’m worrying about all this garbage when the Js will be here for a visit within the next 45 minutes.
5. Rousseau is moving ever more slowly. We could see the difference even after the 12 short days we were gone. It’s weighing on my mind and heart like a big ol’ boulder.
6. Many changes are coming at school for me this fall, and I’ve done nothing to prepare for them. Calgon…
7. I hate my hair. Time to make the call.
8. My house needs a deep cleaning. It’s bugging me to death.

So, you say, “Why sit there and complain? Get up and do something about it!”

Why thank you, fiend. I will do just that. So STOP YELLING AT ME

(You know I luv you.) And it’s Finkday, for all you private sector cats. Rejoice and be glad! Have a party! Eat chocolate! Read a book! Wear a lampshade! I’m with you in spirit.

FO

I sat down to write to you this morning, and said to myself, “Welp…back in the old routine. Yeah, man.” That phrase is actually taken from the lyrics of the song “Back in the Old Routine,” recorded in the early 1950s by Bing Crosby — one of the great singers of my parents’ generation. I loved his “olden days” voice. He was also quite the scat singer, did you know that? I loved the sound of his younger years (isn’t that true of all of us?) as opposed to the lazy-lipped buh buh boom stuff he did as he aged. That’s part of the reason I “retired” from performing; I didn’t want to be all Frank Sinatra can’t find the door.

Anyway.

I wanted to quote some lyrics of the song to you, but couldn’t remember them all. “Back in the Old Routine” has special significance for anyone who was in my high school choir back in the 70s. This song was used as a finale, and all the guys in the choir would form two lines in front and do a soft-shoe to this tune, while the girls sang the countermelody from the risers. Fun at the time…kind of silly now. But you know, they still do it. I don’t even know what year the tradition started, but it was long in place by the time I got to high school in 1974.

Here’s an audio of Bing and Donald O’Connor (of Singin’ in the Rain fame) singing the song in 1953:

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Kind of a cute, easy shuffle, and boy howdy they still do it every year at my alma mater’s spring concert, kick-line ending and all. Ah, le souvenir…

Ok, what was I going to talk about this morning? I’ve no clue, sadly. Oh…my cake decorating class was fun last night. I think I’m going to like it. Not sure I’ll be any good at it, but I’m keeping a journal of it here. Feel free to check it out. After the class, I’m going to leave it sit for posterity. When I was first researching taking this course, I found precious little “personal experience” information about it. So, I thought I’d keep track of my adventure and leave it up so folks could read, comment or ask questions.

And now it’s time to stop procrastinating and get to work. Weekend is, as my students are wont to say, cray cray.

What all are you up to for the weekend?

…and salty air, quaint little villages here and there

(If I had a dollar for every time I sang that song…)

Well it should come as no surprise that yesterday’s beauty was pretty much unbelievable. We went almost all the way up the Cape Cod Peninsula to Cape Cod National Seashore to see the bluest, calmest Atlantic I’ve seen in many a year. I could have stood there all day. If you’ve never been to the ocean, it’s hard to describe it. The smell, the breeze, the calming sound of the waves…it’s a truly special place for peace. It was a perfect day.

We’d planned the drive from the Cape to Danvers (extreme northern suburb of Boston) to take a huge loop around the city so as to avoid it — like anyone with a brain. But, um…wrong turn at Albuquerque. We came up over a rise and saw it looming:

Fortunately, everyone with a brain was leaving for the holiday (as the picture illustrates), and the drive was actually quite fun. Never on a regular day would I be caught dead in a car in the heart of downtown Boston, but it was fine. We even drove through the famous Ted Williams Tunnel, part of Boston’s famous (and infamous) Big Dig project.

So we got to the hotel, checked in, and took off for an evening stroll through historic Salem. We got there at around 8 p.m., so unfortunately, all the exhibits were closed, and my photos ended up looking like this. Today, we’re trying to work out the timing on another visit to Salem before taking off for the Lexington & Concord battlefields — all while dodging the raindrops in the forecast. Salem is having a huge festival night for the 4th, and we’d like to go back if we can possibly find a parking space.  And there is no earthly way we’re braving the insanity to try to get into Boston.

We’ll see. If we walk the day away at Minute Man National Park, we might just come back and put our feet up. No worries — hey, we’re on vacation.

Happy 4th, fiends — enjoy the holiday!

Random Neuron Firings

Today, my friend Joni shared this picture from someone’s website on her Facebook page. I immediately thought, “Hey — I made that up. Boo to that copycat!” [I say that exact thing to my students every once in awhile. Not the “Boo, copycat” thing, but the saying on the picture. Right…] But it’s not the first time that I have experienced that letdown; the one where you go, “Aw, man…here I thought I was so clever, and turns out the phrase has been around for years.” Nuts.

The other time was when the Thriller and I were on the interstate, and for reasons known only to the angels, traffic slowed to a complete stop. It stayed that way for 15 minutes or so, with the occasional 5-MPH creeps forward. Then, when we got to a certain point, the stone was rolled away and traffic just returned to normal. Just. Like. That. There was absolutely no remnant of an accident or construction site. The traffic jam simply vanished. I said to the Thriller, “Wow…it’s like, I dunno, a phantom bottleneck.” He chuckled and agreed.

I owned the phrase. It was mine. Until, that is, I wanted to find out the reason it happened, so on a whim, I did a web search on the term phantom bottleneck.

Oy. 

Not sussmart after all, are ye Fink?

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Hey, did I mention that we’re in the last 48 hours before the Odyssey begins? Time to go clean out the fridge and start laundry. Wahoo!

Crazy morning so far — no time to even write to my fiends, and there is much to say.

Stay tombed…