Sunday, March 24, 2019
The early morning wind made Saturday’s walkabout particularly unpleasant.
The temperatures were no colder than the months of winter we’ve just been through.
And I was perfectly dressed for the cold.
Nonetheless, it was unpleasant.
I think that, despite the crutch of seeing this as the ‘shoulder season,’ the winter is beginner to feel endless to me; it’s wearing me down; making me disgruntled; unhappy.
True, the forecast is for warmer weather, even 60* weather very soon.
Also true, I almost made it through the shoulder season without complaint.
I would have counted myself as indeed stoic had I been able to get through just this one last day of cold without complaining.
But one more day was one day too many.
Winter, you are no longer tolerable.
You’ve got to go.
I wrote these words at 8.00am when it was indeed uncomfortable.
But on the return walk home at noon, the warm spring sun had broken through the clouds and made it a wonderful day to be out.
The puckish spring pushed me over the line of winter-tolerance.
Just a few more hours and I’d have made it through the winter without complaint.
And now it’s gone until next year.
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I’ve grown accustomed to her face.
Postings Count, Weather Brief, and Dinner
Sunday, March 24, 2019
My 346th consecutive posting, committed to 5,000.
Time is 12.01am.
On Sunday Boston’s temperature will reach a high of 54* with a feels-like temperature of 50* under sunny skies.
Question of the Day:
What is the hot dog?
Love your notes.
Contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org
This from Marc O responding to the post which encouraged a focus on relieving early morning stress:
If handling stress was as simple as giving yourself more time in the morning, I’d still be working now.
May I suggest retirement, if doable, as a more effective means of coping with stress.
All through my working career (45+ years) I suffered stress dreams that were school related. Now, in retirement, I suffer work related stress dreams.
When will they end?
Web Meister responds: I, too, am greatly enjoying retirement. But note, Marc, you have an important and exciting retirement activity in your writing, as I have in my blog. God bless us both.
Chuckle of the day
A lady goes to her parish priest one day and tells him, "Father, I have a problem. I have two female parrots but they only know how to say one thing."
"What do they say?" the priest inquired.
"They say, 'Hi, we're prostitutes. Do you want to have some fun?'" the embarrassed woman said.
"That's obscene!" the priest exclaimed, "I can see why you’re embarrassed."
He thought a minute and said, "You know, I may have a solution to this problem. I have two male parrots whom I have taught to pray and read the Bible. Bring your two parrots over to my house and we will put them in the cage with Francis and Job. My parrots can teach your parrots to praise and worship. I'm sure your parrots will stop saying that...that phrase in no time."
"Thank you," the lady responded, "this may very well be the solution."
The next day, she brought her female parrots to the priest's house.
As he ushered her in, she saw his two male parrots were inside their cage, holding their rosary beads and praying.
Impressed, she walked over and placed her parrots in with them.
After just a couple of seconds, the female parrots exclaimed out in unison, "Hi, we're prostitutes. Do you want to have some fun?"
There was a stunned silence.
Finally, one male parrot looked over at the other male parrot and said, "Put the beads away, Francis, our prayers have been answered!"
by Howard Dinin
And, yes, I know that it’s a sunset, and a sunset is a gimme’… But how many sunsets are you going to see at dinnertime in the south of France, heading out to eat the night before Hallowe’en, and eager for some French food? Point is, you stop, you take your time (the restaurateur is not going to be in a hurry—not an American hurry), you get out your camera (the one used to shoot this weighs about four-and-a-half pounds) and you carefully compose your shot, while calculating how to expose it. You don’t have another 30 seconds?
Answer to the Question of the Day:
What is the hot dog?
The hot dog or dog (also spelled hotdog) is a grilled or steamed link-sausage sandwich where the sausage is served in the slit of a partially sliced hot dog bun, a bun of size and shape to hold the sausage.
Typical condiments include mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, and relish, and common garnishes include onions, sauerkraut, chili, cheese, coleslaw, and olives.
Hot dog variants include the corn dog and pigs in a blanket.
The hot dog's cultural traditions include the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest and the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.
These types of sausages and their sandwiches were culturally imported from Germany and became popular in the United States, where the "hot dog" became a working-class street food sold at hot dog stands and carts.
The hot dog became closely associated with baseball and American culture.
Although particularly connected with New York City and its cuisine, the hot dog eventually became ubiquitous throughout the US during the 20th century, and emerged as an important part of other regional cuisines, including notably Chicago street cuisine.
Good Morning on this Sunday, the Twenty-Fourth Day of March
Today we talked about one winter’s day too many.
We talked about the weather and calendar and decided on a goose wrap for dinner.
We posted a comment from Marc O regarding stress.
We retold a parrot joke.
We hosted another lovely entry from the Mindful Quotidian.
And, finally, we presented the hot dog and its variants.
And now? Gotta go.
Che vuoi? Le pocketbook?
See you soon.