Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Freestyle

I went to bed early last night, had a space dream where a little kid gets left behind to die on a space station while I hurtle down to some weird planet, trying to evade some nasty Nazi aliens, and I once again wake up late, but have time to take out the trash and make it to school where we're having a half day so teachers can have time to do their grades, but nobody's told me today's schedule, and now I'm thinking being a handsome anime superhero surrounded by a bevy of animated buxom babes would be much more enjoyable than doing this -- but the wife says:

"Hope you can drag some awesome out of your day.

ME: Drag it out and beat the shit out of it.

HER: Yup. Seize the day and throttle it.

And now I feel better.

Thank you.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

I went to write a poem

but a song slipped out instead
and skipped
across the meadow
looking for dandelions
and butterflies.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Dapper Dude with motorbike

Sometimes I play around with old photographs and Photoshop.
  Early motorcycle

Sunday, September 20, 2015

This is the day Haiku

Sunday morning sits
at peace in my front porch chair
then leaves come lunchtime.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

The Haiku games we play

Cows in morning fog
play hide and seek 'til sunrise
then feign they didn't.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Vintage fireman and motorcycle

Just a bit of fun with an old photo and photoshop.

  Vintage

Saturday, September 12, 2015

The best waylaid plans...

This past weekend I headed out the door with the full intention of riding my motorcycle 2,004 miles to Canada, but when I got to the front steps and noticed there was a nice breeze blowing across the porch and that I only had a buck-fifty in my pocket, I sat down on my blue porch chair and decided a cup of coffee would be just as nice.

The chair isn’t all that comfortable, but it’s easier to drink a mug of dark roast with a dollop of cream while you’re rocking on a porch than when you're doing 75 mph through Kansas.

So, I sat and drank awhile, poured myself another cup, then thought how nice it is to have a bathroom that always has toilet paper, a bar of soap, clean towels and no waiting line. Out on the road, there’s no telling what kind of bathrooms you’ll encounter. Some are really nice, and some remind you of Dante’s Eighth Circle of Hell. And if you’re at a gas station and not a paying patron, the store people stare you down until your guilty conscience forces you to buy a bottle of water or a stick of gum, and I just can’t pee under that kind of pressure.

Also, I like being able to read a book in my own bathroom until my legs fall asleep without having to worry about someone pounding on the door trying to encourage me to take my “business” elsewhere.

I think I would have enjoyed seeing the trees in Canada, the Rocky Mountain Douglas firs and the Western Hemlock, but I’ve got trees of my own, trees that I’ve watched grow since they were wee saplings, and I always miss them when I'm away. I wouldn’t know the history of those Canadian trees -- wouldn't know when they were happy or sad; wouldn’t know if they needed a good talking to or a stiff drink of water.

Of course watching a Canadian show or a musical would have been fun, but I got squirrels running all over my trees that can perform as well as The Flying Cortez Family, and if that isn’t good enough, I don’t know what is.

Why, just the other day I saw a squirrel climb out to the end of a very thin limb, hang upside down clearly defying the laws of gravity, and nibble on the more succulent leaves as if he performed the show every weeknight and twice on Sunday. I tried to take a photograph of the little guy, but he ran off into the woods, screaming that the paparazzi should stop acting like vultures and get real jobs.

Sheesh! Artists.

Driving cross country is a wonderful endeavor not to be missed, but don’t get me started about why anyone would pay $5 for a two-bit hotdog at a sleazy tourist attraction when a whole package of wieners cost less than $2! I could at this very minute walk into my kitchen and fix myself a three-course meal with all the trimmings, including a drink, desert, some after-dinner mints, a cup of coffee and a toothpick to play with, for probably less than a $5 hotdog, but don’t quote me on that – I could be wrong.

So, needless to say, I didn't make it to Canada. But I had a wonderful time sitting on the porch, drinking coffee, and making plans for my next week's adventure: to waterski across the Atlantic and do some Christmas shopping in Ireland.

Or maybe I'll just stay home and read a book.


© 2015 Farr, All Rights Reserved

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Haiku fences

They put up a fence
and say, "You stay on your side,"
but the wind still blows.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

On the wild side

I captured this image of a squirrel. A squirrel is wildlife.

So technically, I'm a wildlife photographer.
  Squirrel

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Can you ever have too many coffee mugs?

I'm not exactly sure how many coffee mugs the average family of five (minus the two older ones who grew up and moved out) should have sitting around in their kitchen cabinets waiting to be used, but I think 67 is a tad bit excessive, don't you? 

Fortunately, my family doesn't rest on being average, and that's why we have a whopping 108 coffee mugs, not counting the Christmas mugs packed away with the Christmas decorations, or the possible two or three unwashed ones lying under each bed -- long-lost mugs that will remain long and thoroughly lost because we have no other place to put them if someone other than me actually found them.

Mugs Yes, 108 of the little java darlings for five people (now three), and I wouldn't have believed it myself, but I counted each and every one that I could see and imagine, and now I'm embarrassed to admit our over-indulgence, but since I've already started the confession, I guess I can't stop now.

How did we come to have so many ceramic albatrosses hanging around our kitchen's neck? Well, I can tell you it wasn't MY fault. I only started drinking coffee a few years ago, and by the time my addiction was fully inflamed, we already had enough mugs to fill at least three kitchens; plain mugs, funny mugs, tall ones, short ones, fat and happy ones, some that had significant meaning, some from garage sales, and some that just showed up at the door begging to be let in, and how could we refuse?

You get mugs for birthday presents, Christmas presents, souvenirs, gag gifts; you borrow them from the office and forget to return them; they sneak into your car when you go visit relatives; you buy them on the spur of the moment when you're waiting to check out at the grocery store; and sometimes you order really nice ones online for a low, low price of $9.95 a month for the rest of your life.

They accumulate in front of your very eyes, even if you have no idea what the word "accumulate" means.

And if you think in this day and age that there is some sort of rule or regulation that helps us maintain an optimal people-to-mug ratio for healthy living, you'd be sadly mistaken. We can own as many mugs as we want, and if the house collapses under their weight and gets sucked into a churning black hole of dark roast with a bit of cream and no sugar please, then "oh well."

So, based upon a few sound mathematical principles that I just made up, I propose the following rule or regulation that should be used as a standard rule of thumb forthwith: A family that owns a 1,500-square-foot home should only be allowed to keep 10 standard-sized coffee mugs. For a family of five, that comes to two mugs per person; one mug to drink from, the other one to sit in the sink waiting to be washed. As the older children grow and move out, the remaining family members can scuffle over who gets which part of the leftover coffee mugs, possibly resulting in black eyes and bloody noses, but that would not be under the purview of the aforesaid rule or regulation or rule of thumb.

Families who owned over the optimal amount of mugs (say 108) would be required to give away, throw away, or bury in the backyard all surplus mugs, or face a hefty fine, the amount of which would be determined by those elected to The Office of Hefty Fines.

Of course the other option would be to purchase a home according to the number of coffee mugs owned. In my case, that would mean moving into a 16,200 square-foot mansion with a live-in maid paid solely to wash all the dishes and a gardener to mow the yard.

I'd be okay with that.


© 2015 Farr, All Rights Reserved

Friday, September 4, 2015

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Haiku Serendipity

Sometimes a wrong turn
leads you to a dead-end street;
sometimes, paradise.

On the coast

Tuesday, September 1, 2015