Scratch the sling-shot maneuver…

Friday – Rush Hour Traffic

Self, JustI say, Perhaps I’ll stay at the back of the pack. It would be a shame to die on a Friday afternoon.

A wise decision, me thinks!

Frosted flakes

dr-z-snow-in-house

Just before sunrise on a chilly, February morning…

Me: I think I’ll turn on the heat to take the chill off the house

Husband: It’s not that cold. Why don’t you put on more clothes?

Me: I’m already wearing 3 layers! Including my Uggs!

ugg-boots

Husband: [sigh]

dr-zhivago-julie-christie

Me: You know I hate winter! Floridians shouldn’t have to live like this!

Saturday…

Today is laundry day…

My mother had hand embroidered dish towels with the days of the week, and a different chore assigned to each. I remember laundry day was one of them, but I don’t remember the specific day.

My husband reminded me that he had blood on the sleeve of one of his favorite shirts, and he asked me to try and get it out.

I was an emergency/trauma nurse for 25 years; if there’s one thing I can do, it’s get blood out of a shirt.

I also had to pick off stick-tights and a sand spur, because he and the dog are like magnets when it comes to traveling weed seeds.

I can remember when I was little, my mother used to let me sew buttons on the dish towels. She had a tin full of buttons, all shapes and sizes. I knew needles were sharp.

My sister is 4 1/2 years younger, and I don’t remember mother letting her do anything with a needle.

My husband is 4 1/2 years younger than me. Sometimes I think he and my sister are twins. I marvel sometimes over their similarities.

I like laundry day. My thoughts wander, and I remember things I haven’t thought about in years.

electric-washing-machine

 

 

 

This guy can’t see his belly-button, much less his shadow!

Marmot de Jour, leader of a cult of weather predictors
Marmot de Jour, leader of a cult of weather predictors

The weather in PUNXSUTAWNEY, PA

February 2, 2015

Double, double toil and trouble…

Macbeth
Act 4, SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches

witches_640x478
First Witch
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.

Second Witch
Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch
Harpier cries ‘Tis time, ’tis time.
First Witch
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison’d entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.

witches1

ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

eye of newt

ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver’d in the moon’s eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch
Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.