They're getting married!!!
I just received an email from my sister which reads:
“We are in the process of designing invitations. Have the church reserved, American legion for reception, working on a catering service, have my dress, shoes, and tonight we picked out rings.”
They sure look happy, and in my opinion, that's great!!!
"Girl With a Basket"
Winslow Homer, 1882
Taste
What ever happened to taste? Has the appreciation of classic grace and beauty gone from everyday life? It feels as though everywhere I turn these days I'm assaulted by a barrage of images, print, and noise. The message smacks me rather than beckons. In your face, dude! (And often in your ears at deafening decibels).
Would Georgia O’Keefe’s work be overlooked if it were new today? Would Michelangelo’s David be considered boring for its simple portrayal of a lone man? Are there any budding Chopins - and if there are, can anyone hear them? Does an Eames chair pale beside a vibrating, massaging, giant flat-screen home theater seat?
Turn off that damned CNN. Play me a simple song sung by a soloist and tastefully accompanied by a piano, and let my eyes wander out the window, across the pond to the still woods as the sun goes down.
Okay, so I’m an old fart.
Moronic Rhyme
A neighbor moronic we all have to bear,
As he shoots his guns nightly at things in the air,
Or perhaps at things swimming or eating or running;
He thinks that he is exceedingly cunning.
He hoarded dried foods for the end of our stay
On this planet computered (doomed by Y-2-K).
His lame ideology damns all but his “sisters”
And “brothers” and preachers (who to us are blisters).
Certifiably crazy is this next-door dolt,
With his fervent religion and his 45 Colt,
And we wonder how long it will be till the day
He hears God whispering, “Blow the neighbors away.”
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