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Posted on 04/01/2008 4:05:44 AM PDT by JustAmy
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Looks like your weekend was a memorable one! ;-)
I meant to ping you to #2436
Sorry. That happens when I try to rush stuff.
The walk started with the first photo on Monday July 26 2004 at 10:40. So everyone was at work as August is the month when the whole country shuts down for a month´s holiday.
But in June, July and August that beach is packed between two and five o-clock as everyone has a three hour lunch time. And many companies only work until 2pm in the Summer months.
They go back to work from 5pm to 8pm, the night life does not begin until ten pm - some restaurants don´t bother to open until 10pm. This causes great confusion among the visitors.
From halfway through June to the beginning of July sunset is 10:18 pm. so all the summer it is past ten PM.
Oh my gosh, that is so funny! He has port and starboard lights - only he is wearing them on the wrong side. LOL
Gotta run ... I will post some more later.
There is at least one cute one. ;^ )
LOL..If you have high windows in the garage door..He is enjoying looking out..My kitty loves her perch on top of my car..
Part of my early senility onset is to allow the cat to climb on the top of the car for a view of the street..OH MY!
The attendance of the Graces, Aglaia (Splendor), Euphrosyne (Festivity), and Thalia (Rejoicing), was the assurance of peace and happiness.
They wove the material for Aphrodite’s robe (Iliad, book 5, line 338). They also tended to Aphrodite when she returned to the island of Kypros (Cyprus), humiliated after she had been caught in the trap her husband, Hephaistos (Hephaestus), had set to catch her and Ares (God of War) in the embrace of love (Odyssey, book 8, line 300).
The Graces bathed her, anointed her with ambrosial oil and dressed her in delightful clothing so that she might resume her loving duties at The Golden Door Fitness Resort and Spa.
Homer used the beauty of the Graces ironically to depict the horror of war when he describes a dead Trojan soldiers hair as being ‘lovely as the Graces’ before it was splattered with blood and mingled dirt. (Iliad, book 17, line 51)
The Graces are often confused with the Roman goddesses, the Charities. And we all know there is no Charity without Grace, and no Grace without Charity, but the greatest confusion comes from the American Graces: Divine Grace, Table Grace, and Say-Goodbye Grace-E.
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I've been Sitting Here Catching Up on the Thread, and am Sending Thank you's to Everybody for the Fun and Interesting Posts. I Hope Everyone is Having a Good Day, and it's Beautiful and Sunny Here. My New Friend, Doggie, is Asleep Outside, Sleeping the Sleep of the Exhausted, Lol, because of being So Active! I Love her Very Much, and couldn't have a Sweeter Friend. : )
Might as well clean the webs; it looks like he ate all the spiders.
Now there’s something to ponder . . .
Next time, call me. You should always be accompanied by a friend or two. Tee hee.
— Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Okay, I’ll call you but you have to bring the dog.
I’ll bring her - but she won’t be much protection - she likes to party hearty. ;-)
That’s my kind of Yorkie!
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Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an’ ‘ark to my lay,
An’ I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .
First mind you steer clear o’ the grog-sellers’ huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay’nets that rots out your guts —
Ay, drink that ‘ud eat the live steel from your butts —
An’ it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .
When the cholera comes — as it will past a doubt —
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An’ it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .
But the worst o’ your foes is the sun over’ead:
You ~must~ wear your ‘elmet for all that is said:
If ‘e finds you uncovered ‘e’ll knock you down dead,
An’ you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .
If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .
Now, if you must marry, take care she is old —
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
‘Nough, ‘nough, ‘nough for a soldier . . .
If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch ‘em — you'll swing, on my oath! —
Make ‘im take ‘er and keep ‘er: that's Hell for them both,
An’ you're shut o’ the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .
When first under fire an’ you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take ‘eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin’, and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .
When ‘arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are — you treat her as sich,
An’ she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .
When shakin’ their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o’ the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an’ don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .
If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .
When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen!
— Rudyard Kipling (1865-1951)
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