Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Feel Like It's Raining All Over The World
-Brook Benton
Hoverin' by my suitcase
Tryin' to find a warm place
to spend the night
Heavy rain fallin', s
Seems I hear your voice callin'
"It's all right"
A rainy night in Georgia
A rainy night in Georgia
It seems like it's rainin' all over the world
I feel like it's rainin' all over the world
Neon signs a-flashin'
Taxi cabs and buses passin'
Through the night
A distant moanin' of a train
Seems to play a sad refrain
To the night
A rainy night in Georgia
Such a rainy night in Georgia
Lord, I believe it's rainin' all over the world
I feel like it's rainin' all over the world
How many times I wondered
It still comes out the same
No matter how you look at it or think of it
It's life and you just got to play the game
I find me a place in a box car
So I take my guitar
To pass some time
Late at night when it's hard to rest
I hold your picture to my chest
And I feel fine
But it's a rainy night in Georgia
Baby, it's a rainy night in Georgia
I feel it's rainin' all over the world
Kinda lonely now and it's rainin' all over the world
Oh, have you ever been lonely, people?
And you feel that it was rainin' all over this man's world
You're talking 'bout rainin', rainin', rainin',
Rainin', rainin', rainin', rainin'
Rainin', rainin' rainin', rainin',
Rainin' rainin' rainin' over the world
I said now, rainin', rainin' rainin'
Friday, May 15, 2015
Portmanteau
: a word or morpheme whose form and meaning are derived from a blending of two or more distinct forms (as smog from smoke and fog) -Merriam-Webster Dictionary
24 Brilliant Portmanteaus ....well, maybe not that brilliant but definitely amusing.
24 Brilliant Portmanteaus ....well, maybe not that brilliant but definitely amusing.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
View From The Passenger Side Of The Truck
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| Sometimes life is about the ability to believe in where you are going even when you’re not sure what lies ahead. -Unknown |
Monday, May 11, 2015
Frog Went A'courtin'
Frog Went A'courtin'- Burl Ives
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| This is the frog that sits on my backyard patio next to the step leading to the patio doors. |
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| This is where I found him Sunday morning after two days of heavy rain and then a blizzard on Saturday night. He was blown about three feet from his original position on the thin layer of ice created by the fierce wind during the storm. |
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Mother's Day Poem
My mother is like a humming bird,
flitting from one flower to another without staying long at any one.
My mother is the color of the undersides of storm clouds,
reflecting brilliant white one second and then swiftly changing to black the next.
My mother is like an earthquake who's ground I did not stand on securely. I never knew when that ground would crumble beneath me.
My mother is the sound of waves on the beach,
sometimes crashing over me and threatening to drown me;
other times gently massaging my toes.
My mother will always be the smell of Coty's Emeraude,
who's scent still brings back the feeling of pride I had whenever I saw her dressed to the nines.
My mother is the feeling of sadness and loss of a life lived in fear and regret.
My mother is like the texture of a rock smoothed by years of being tumbled over the sandy bottom of a raging river.
My mother is like the taste of cotton candy
who's flavor would disappear just as it was dissolved by the warmth of the inside of my mouth.
My mother is the daughter of Athena who's wisdom she was not able to pass on to her own daughters.
My mother is like the Langston Hughes poem "A Dream Deferred,"
A raisin in the sun,
Gone and never to return.
-Colleen Shannon (2006)
flitting from one flower to another without staying long at any one.
My mother is the color of the undersides of storm clouds,
reflecting brilliant white one second and then swiftly changing to black the next.
My mother is like an earthquake who's ground I did not stand on securely. I never knew when that ground would crumble beneath me.
My mother is the sound of waves on the beach,
sometimes crashing over me and threatening to drown me;
other times gently massaging my toes.
My mother will always be the smell of Coty's Emeraude,
who's scent still brings back the feeling of pride I had whenever I saw her dressed to the nines.
My mother is the feeling of sadness and loss of a life lived in fear and regret.
My mother is like the texture of a rock smoothed by years of being tumbled over the sandy bottom of a raging river.
My mother is like the taste of cotton candy
who's flavor would disappear just as it was dissolved by the warmth of the inside of my mouth.
My mother is the daughter of Athena who's wisdom she was not able to pass on to her own daughters.
My mother is like the Langston Hughes poem "A Dream Deferred,"
A raisin in the sun,
Gone and never to return.
-Colleen Shannon (2006)
Friday, May 08, 2015
Wednesday, May 06, 2015
Sitting Pretty
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| Sitting on a Low Chair or Stool. Whenever it is necessary
for you to sit in a chair that is so low your Knees come under you chin,
it will be more flattering for you to put both feet to one side and
thereby get your knees down. If you put you feet to the right, the right foot is just slightly in front of the left. -1950s advice to women. |
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| "What?" |
Tuesday, May 05, 2015
I Am Learning To Sew- Project 20
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| A family member asked if I could make linings for two sets of curtains she had hanging in one of her bedrooms. I said I'd give it a try. |
Monday, May 04, 2015
Friday, May 01, 2015
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