Random Neuron Firings

*yawn*

So I wasn’t feeling the greatest at school yesterday afternoon. Came on me all-of-a-sudden like, around 11:00. I didn’t think much of it, but by the time high school choir got to my room at noon, I felt like a bag of goo.

Because of a mandatory meeting for students interested in post-secondary options for next year, I was down several troops for rehearsal last night. Then I received a message about two other people going down due to illness, so, against my stubborn nature, and at the stern encouragement of producer Stoney, I canceled rehearsal, came home and went to bed.

The last time I turned off my reading light at 9:00 p.m. and didn’t move until 4:40 a.m.? Hmmm. Long time. Can’t remember. But apparently it was needed, because I only feel half as ooky as I did last night. Score one for the good guys.

And speaking of good guys (not)…if I read another sports writer quoting Ravens players saying, “Win it for Ray,” I’m going to launch something. I don’t care if he didn’t actually do the deed (although the question persists: Where is your white designer suit, Ray? You know — the suit with the blood stains on it that everyone saw? The suit you say you “can’t find?”), he knows something. They all know something, and they owe it to the families of those two dead boys to produce it. We’re not talking about keeping a secret about an indiscretion, or someone saying something horrible about someone else. We’re talking about murder here. We’re talking about people in a limo who distinctly heard Ray say, “Y’all keep your mouths shut. I’m not losing my career this way.”

All right, enough. Not getting started on it, not getting started on it, not getting started on it.

Did you know it is now Thursday? This time yesterday morning, I thought the same thing. HA

Rat Fink, Rat Fink…

And these are thoughts I can barely stomach at 5:30 a.m. I mean, I got ooky watching this. Like, lose-your-appetite ooky.

Watch it all the way through — that is, if you don’t easily get woozed out. Even better: watch it full screen.

Oy………………

So last night at rehearsal, my mouth got ahead of my brain during a difficult passage in the music (that all were instructed to memorize), and I gave into a surge of frustration and annoyance. I accused the cast members of caring about everything in their lives except preparing for this show. It was dead silent in the room, but I’m sure I heard their thoughts: No, I’m just sitting here in your room at 8:30 at night when I could be doing a hundred other things — all because I don’t care about this show.

I’m sure it was spoken loud and clear in their cars on the way home. Nuts. Must rectify that tonight.

J’ever want to bonk yourself on the head for letting the emotions do the talking? Rat Fink, Rat Fink. What a donkey.

Happy Thurgsday, fiends — we’re almost to the weekend.

PS — I know it’s only Wednesday. Well, I didn’t originally. But I do now.

What do you wish today? If I could, I’d wave my magic wand and grant it.

Here’s a partial list of mine. Not complaining, mind — just, you know…if wishes were fishes and all.

I wish:

1. we could time it so our pets would leave this world with us instead of before us. (Seamus and Hannah have to say goodbye to their sweet dog, Willow, this Friday. We’re all heartbroken.)
2. we could all be forced to walk in the shoes of those less fortunate once in a while.
3. I could spend more time with my three grandsons.
4. Milky Way bars had like 15 calories.
5. I had running water in my building at school.
6. I didn’t have to get on a plane in order to visit Slovenia and the Netherlands.
7. there was more time to rehearse for this show (even though it seems like I’m at school every waking moment as it is).
8. I knew why professed Christians say, “I’ll forgive, but I won’t forget,” when Jesus forgave and forgot. It was good enough for the son of God, but…?
9. we could do that beaming-up thing from Star Trek.
10. there was more time in the mornings to write to you. I could get up at 4…

Nah, maybe not.

Hey, it’s Tunesday, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. As David Hartman used to say, (can anyone remember?)…

FO

OK, true confession. Every once in a while, Dad would take a long sip of the iced tea Mavis and I had to make every night for dinner and then declare, “Ah, take tea and see!” I just thought he was being goofy, so I never thought anything about it.

Imagine my surprise to see the following as I began to read an article in the Times about Lipton going back to its roots with the basic black tea bags:

BACK in the “Mad Men” days, a trade organization known as the Tea Council of the U.S.A. celebrated the beverage its members sold with ads that carried the theme “Take tea and see.”

So THAT’S what he meant! And here’s the awesome commercial:

J’ever have a moment like that? Here it is, a hundred years later, and I finally get the punch line. Why didn’t I just ask?

Now THIS tea commercial I remember! Seems kind of dorky forty years later. OK, completely dorky.

Maybe I’ll go make some Lipton. Like, right now. One of these days, we’re going to have a big ol’ nostalgic remember that commercial? picnic here. And archive.org is probably the place to go for ammo. However, be warned: it’s one of those “Do NOT Go Here” sites, if yaknowwhatimean.

Hey, it’s Monkday, and there’s school to be taught. I’m happy today, even though none of “my” teams won in the playoffs this weekend. None. As in, not one.

Anyway, have a good one, fiends. I’m out.

…fit to print on a Saturday morning.

At the get-go: I don’t think this self-imposed hiatus is going anywhere. All I did every morning this week was try not to write. I’m close to giving up the vacation. What does one learn from a failed experiment? That sometimes, experiments fail.

Next.

So, did you really think you’d escape reading about the latest Cleveland Shuffle? From the Browns front office: Shurmur’s out, Chud is in. Another experiment — try not to go anywhere near attempting to figure out what management was thinking in this situation. I just hope I’m ten kinds of wrong, and it works. Something has to this time, or the merry-go-round is just going to run out of steam and all the pretty little horses…

OK, enough with the metaphor. Time to get to work.

Busy weekend of recording for Joseph, getting grades in the grade book, and hopefully seeing some grandsons. Lars, Helen and Mr. A. are coming for lunch tomorrow; gotta try to plan out some time to see the Js.

But first: take an hour to start the final season of West Wing. I hate when I know a thing is coming to an end.

Happy weekend, fiends — let’s roll!