Aggregate Saturday


Aggregate Saturday

2:51 am – can’t sleep but I don’t get up. The long-suffering wife snoozes beside me, breathing rhythmically, radiating even in her deep sleep, love. Who or what could make we want to get up?

Tax day. Used to be a good day with the promise of some dough returned from the guvmint. Today after getting my tax preparer in tears again for the first time in years we will be lucky, I say lucky, to pay a few hundred out to the tax vampires. Self-employment has it’s advantages. This is NOT one.

I can hear robins as I type this. Maybe the winter of our discontent is over, finally. That would be more than OK with us.

I have a day off today. It’s a trade day for one I worked for a a co-worker. Only marginally spoiled by aforementioned visit with tax preparer. The best thing is that whatever we do it will be done at our own pace. How I despise hurrying to meet a deadline in life. It’s OK in work, not so OK in life.

Next week temps in the 50’s. Is it another tease, or the real deal? People reading this in warmer climes must think it odd to focus so much on the weather. The weather this year has been overwhelmingly, uncompromisingly, uniformly, bad.

Ever hear of a “dead cat bounce?”-The term “dead cat bounce” is derived from the idea that “even a dead cat will bounce if it falls from a great height”

Ever hear of a real “dead giraffe bounce?”

I am not going to write about the real dead giraffe bounce.

Seeing old High School classmates on Facebook is a bittersweet experience. Sometimes it’s very satisfying in a shameful schadenfreude sort of way. Other times…well, is there such a thing as “reverse schadenfreude”? It must be like that for people who went to high school with Bill Gates, or…Hugh Hefner.

Memory is such an unreliable thing. When I can’t sleep at night I will revisit every place I have ever lived. I can go room to room and remember furniture, where we put the Christmas tree and what mowing the lawn was like.
I can do the same for every radio station I have ever worked at. I can remember what songs I played at those stations.
Cars. Same deal.

I can NOT for any amount of struggle recall meeting my first girlfriend. My first wife.

What is that about?

The geese are back. Soon the little ones will be here, a sure sign of life goes on. For a few weeks we can delight in seeing the little troops marching, single file around the small ponds in the area.
It’s a country thing, I guess.
They mate for life. And return every year. Bookend to the season.

This picture really makes me wonder. It’s Libyan rebels. In what looks like a Toyota pick-up truck.
Somehow it underscores, to me anyway, how hopeless that situation is.
That’s a fighting force?

OK- I have a load of work to do today. With some effort and a little diligence on my part I can completely avoid all of it.


Rant D’Jour

It’s rude, vile and disgusting. But in case of the… more


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About James Rising

A recovering radio addict wrestles with the written word.
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