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Posted on 06/24/2009 5:59:57 PM PDT by AZamericonnie
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Lint lady is up to 3 just for me today.
Evening Taz.
Working short.
Fairly busy but I’ve seen it much worse.
Evening my.
I’m not complaining about the day.
All my cases have been solvable so far.
HiYa TAZ
Lamh Foistenach Abu!
Not bad. Just removing hardware from the walls in the Dinning Room so I can wash them tomorrow, tape them off, and then on Fri/Sat paint. Next week is the Familyroom/Entryway, and the week after that the Living Room.
Safe trip
Sounds like you are planning a latex weekend.
I remember working in the fields with 100+ temps, picking cotton (Do I get reps for that?), corn, working with cattle, sheep, hogs, picking the garden, etc.
I never pass up an opportunity to post this every summer.
The Summers of our Youth
Don Feder
Will we ever again experience the same delight that we did in our childhood?
Each year, I look forward to the advent of summer. And each year, about the middle of August, I wonder where it went.(”Summer’s almost over.” that wistful refrain that echoes through the land.)
There’s so much here, and so little time to savor it: a day at the beach with the kids, a walk in the woods, a neighborhood barbeque, an hour in the garden snatched from the merciless jaws of career and family obligations, those great annihilators of leisure time.
Will we ever again experience summer as we knew it in our childhood?
Remember the inexpressible joy when the school bell rang for the last time in June and the entire summer stretched before you like a limitless horizon? I used to race my bike down the hill from school, the wind in my hair symbolic of a newfound freedom. Within the confines of childhood we were indeed liberated. Ten whole weeks-an eternity from a child’s perspective-without cramped little desks, homework or nagging teachers awaited us.
Summer was so sweet then, before the advent of Nintendo or MTV: backyard games (whatever could be essayed with bats, balls, sticks, hoops - any object to stimulate the imagination) from dawn to dusk, with brief hiatuses for hearty meals, then a warm bath to remove the accumulated grime, and in to bed in clean pajamas; catching fireflies on languorous evenings; running through the sprinkler, laughing as you slipped on wet grass; going to the amusement park by the lake; getting sick on cotton candy and caramel apples mixed by the motion of the ferris wheel and roller coaster; trapping tadpoles in the creek, bringing them home in empty peanut butter jars; pretending you hated girls while secretly longing for the companionship of the mysterious creatures on those rare occasions that the twain did meet.
The remembrance of summer tastes is enough to overwhelm the senses: cream splashed over freshly picked blackberries; homegrown corn on the cob, lightly salted, smothered with butter; marshmallows roasted on a stick, crisp, brown and bubbly on top; an ice cold fudgesicle on a scorching afternoon.
Will we ever again know these rich, redolent odors of summer times past: the soft sweetness of new mown grass; the pungency of a campfire; the bouquet freshness of the air after a summer shower; that seashore fragrance composed of equal parts sand, salt air and suntan lotion; the heady aroma of clover in June.
Will we ever again know the sounds of summer: crickets prophesying another day of soaring temperatures; the rolling reverberation of skates on blacktop; the crack of a Louisville Slugger making contact; the lazy drone of a lawn mower?
Now summer is a blur; long awaited, enjoyed only peripherally, over all too soon. Summer is no longer the hour of deliverance - an exuberant respite from the tedious march from infancy to maturity marked by the milestones of studies and grades. It is merely another time of year.
Do the old enjoy summer like the young? They have the time, but not the capacity to run, leap and rejoice in the riotous activity summer seems to demand.
If adults could play, could they recapture the bliss of childhood summers? Can only the fresh, innocent eyes of youth grasp the season’s natural charm? Can a mind preoccupied with the business of grownups- earning a living, raising a family, household finances- immerse themselves in the season’s pleasures, as children do? Perhaps pleasant memories are all we have a right to expect.
Religions have different conceptions of the hereafter - fluffy white clouds, pearly gates, choir music. I would prefer to think of heaven as an endless summer, with a body to enjoy and a mind to appreciate the golden season.
3 Latex Weekends to be exact.
Howdy Tas
Farmboy?
That was quite nice.
Painting can be fun...(/sarc)
Yes. I grew up on a farm about 60 miles east of Austin during the late 50s. These temps remind me of those days. We hit 105 today and I remember being in the fields in heat like that many times.
Summers were mostly spent on our block with our friends. There were lots of kids of all ages on our block (and on all the others) back then. Open hydrants and sprinklers. Wiffleball or handball in the street (not a busy one) or softball in the schoolyard (we could climb the fence).
There were trips to Brighton Beach (which required switching trains by the aquarium -- you had to go down one flight of stairs and then up TWO).
Later there was Happy Day Camp (with a smiley face logo) with board games and trips to the Sunset Park pool and bunches of other places.
105...now that’s warm.
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