Humor – She said What? A Blog

When I am 64…

Well, that was quick…
When I first heard The Beatles song as a wee 7 year old, “When I’m 64,” I thought 64 was was old, and ancient. In my small 7 year old world, I didn’t have to worry about 64 because that was a long way away.

Then I recall hearing it again in my 20s and a similar thought, that well, I don’t need to think about 64, because that’s a long ways off, and 30s and 40s…

When I turned 50, I thought, ummm,.WOW, that’s not so old now and in reality, it really is just around the corner but hey-ho, it’s getting alot closer….and the day arrived yesterday, and it, the number 64, arrived..I’m like, damn, this thing is moving fast, and now for the last 3rd of my life going to cherish even more so the gift of another day…there about 4-5 times from my 20s even up until 59, I didn’t my know if I would make to 64…that was always my benchmark, just make it to 64, and I have…and now life is more precious…but, more determined to make each day count…so, lastly, I am going to definitely eat the cake, and yes drink a glass maybe 2 or 3 of wine.

In the meantime, join me and singing….
…When I get older, losing my hair. Many years from now, Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I’d been out till quarter to three, Would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I’m sixty four?…” 🎂 🍾🥂

So, each day, go Carpe that Diem of Yours.

An Unsuspecting Drive-By of a Hot Dog on a Sleepy Street Late One Night

I have always seen weird things or sightings throughout my life. This case being no different. On the evening of this event it had been a relatively, uneventful, ordinary day in Angie-land, circa 2000. I was living in North Dallas at the time, when the weird thing happened late that evening. And no, no alcohol or mind altering drugs were used. Sober as a saint.

My friend and I had taken the dogs out walking about 11ish that night for their last relief break. When we walking our little route on this quite, sleepy little steet, long before development as it looks today, I heard it before I saw it. The imfamous, Oscar Meyer Jingle, “Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Meyer weiner, that is what I’d truly like to me. Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener, Everyone would be in love with me...”

My friend and I both stood there with our mouths agape, and about the same time we look at each other and said, “What the hell?” It literally, out of the blue drove by, like just another ordinary day..nothing to see here. Just like it happened on a regular basis.

I still shake my head with this memory. Weird shit has always happened to me..and all you can do is laugh, and I do. This event as in the top 3…just another night in Angieland, way back in the day…stay tuned for more odd events in Angieland…🌭

And the 12th Night starts…

*‘Christmas. The Wassail Bowl’ by Thomas Hollis after R.W. Buss. The wassail bowl is the centrepiece of this 1851 engraving of merriment and revelry*

Epiphany begins tonight at sunset, as the 12 day of Christmas ends. So, what better way to ring in Epiphany than with the Robert Herrick poem, the 12th Night. The sun has just set, so lets get the cake ready…

The following pen was written by Robert Herrick, a clergyman of the Church of England. After England’s civil war, Herrick was displaced or rather kicked out of his living quarters because the worship of the Church of England; and the customs of the country-side, including the celebration of Twelfth Night had been abolished because of the Civil War. Any celebrations therein, were made criminal. Inasmuch, because shops were not allowed to open, riots ensued, referred to as The Plum Pudding riots.

Herrick lived until 1674. He was restored to his ministry in 1660. Knowing, the return of King Charles II and things would be restored, he penned the celebratory poem, Twelfth Night.

TWELFTH NIGHT : OR, KING AND QUEEN.
by Robert Herrick NOW, now the mirth comes With the cake full of plums,

Where bean’s the king of the sport here ;
Beside we must know,
The pea also
Must revel, as queen, in the court here. Begin then to choose, This night as ye use,

Who shall for the present delight here,
Be a king by the lot,
And who shall not
Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here. Which known, let us make Joy-sops with the cake ;

And let not a man then be seen here,
Who unurg’d will not drink
To the base from the brink
A health to the king and queen here. Next crown a bowl full With gentle lamb's wool :

Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,
With store of ale too ;
And thus ye must do
To make the wassail a swinger. Give then to the king And queen wassailing :

And though with ale ye be whet here,
Yet part from hence
As free from offence
As when ye innocent met here.

*Wassailing historically occurred on the twelfth and final night of Christmas. Wassailing is a Twelfth Night tradition that has been practiced in Britain for centuries. It has its roots in a pagan custom of visiting orchards to sing to the trees and spirits in the hope of ensuring a good harvest the following season.

(*Source: http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/features/ritual-and-revelry-the-story)

Just one of those kind of days…

It was one of those kind of days, where everything I touched something happened. I had just gotten off work, and was already mentally exhausted from the day. So, on way home, I stopped by convenience store to get some water. Pulled in the parking lot, not paying attention, get out of the car, and hurriedly walking to the door. I had worn a dark pantsuit that day suit, and still was wearing dark sunglasses when I got out. In the meantime, I did notice as I was in a hurry for not particular reason other than to get home, a Concrete truck by where I had parked. There were no cones in front of store, so go in. I opened the door and walked right in, and then felt the strangest sensation: I took a step and sank, then another step and sank..not realizing wet cement and was standing in it covering my ankles. I uttered Oh shit, as my sunglasses fly off whilst attempting to maintain my balance. I hear a collective gasp..clerk says you are not supposed to come in that door, as I am ankle deep in wet cement. All I could say was “really,” where are the cones?

I said, “Uh, do you have some paper towels? “Oh yes ma’am, and made no attempt to hand me amy. I replied, tersely, “Well, may I have some? Grabbed them, then stepped out, then back and landed left foot in the other side of the newly poured, not cordoned off cement. Truly, something out of a comedy routine. Finally, I manage to get outside with said paper towels look at the construction guy who just finished, and said, “I just ruined your work.” He is now cussing, and I am.

I now laugh at the mental pic..yes, another day in the life of Angie..its ok to laugh, I am..yes, shoes are ruined. Just a other day in Angieland.

True story on this day in 2014.