Maybe doors are better left as fun and games? Too much hard work the other way? Does Monty Hall need exercise daily? Like a pre-game warmup? Too easy to forget? Too important not to remember? Why bother?
For merry, or for sad, what deliveries are behind that door? - outgoing? - incoming? - enjoyed this moment in pleasures behind one closed door? - are the petty-little gods that we invent for ourselves awakening behind that door, readying the delivery of Pan’s Labyrinth? - perhaps a charismatic leader, Wizard-like, using charismatic talents, not knowing the next reveal will be of Incompetence, preparing now a ticker-tape Tweet for hungry-media-(business, economic, politick) starved souls, begging bread crumb trails, outside the door? - perhaps better minds, dressed in best-disguises of ordinary plain clothes, are inside, covering behinds from behind? - praying new containments of closed doors? - pleading new unleashments of open ones?
Cigars? - where the cigars? to smoke and join?
"And, if Providence ever drops in my lap another chance like that ... I may have radio malfunction again." Brigadier General Frank Savage
Karen said... Be sure to visit Carmel, a charming village at the north end of Indianapolis.
Aye, that! And Crooked Creek Golf Club. If you can get in :).
Dress red. It’s not far, just a charming ride, from the Circle downtown, hub-o-the-world, corn-wise. I do love parts of the middle of America. Open back yards. No fences. Not so much of that in careful Carmel. From one Carmelite monk (once were Carmelite sisters there in Indy, witty and spry) to another Carmelite soul, though mine be far away, Carmel-by-the-Sea (grad study thereabouts), and not too far from another far away from-you-place, where you can’t duck pin bowl (wish we could), alas, but you can indeed get Squid Ink Beer. Squid Ink Beer and duck pin - would have it covered. In this other Carmel, you can watch marine cephalopods play. Kinda boring. Sorta. Okay, I lied.
Oh, to be a landlubber again. Hail Carmel! Not by the sea.
Carmel-by-the-Corn! :)
"And, if Providence ever drops in my lap another chance like that ... I may have radio malfunction again." Brigadier General Frank Savage
I read this fascinating article on the WaPo site, about a woman from an Irish-American Catholic family who took a DNA task and discovered that all was not as it seemed:
Long article short, it turned out that her father and another baby boy had been accidentally switched after birth at Fordham Hospital in New York. The man who became her father was actually born to an Eastern European Jewish immigrant family. The two men never knew who they really were. And of course, the only reason that their children and grandchildren even exist is because someone at the hospital got the babies mixed up, otherwise they would have grown up in totally different situations and never married the women who bore their children. Of such chance circumstances are lives made up.
The article also has a cameo appearance by an author who is also a retired University of Wisconsin professor. Worth the time to read the whole thing.
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15 comments:
We have much nicer Obstetrical Departments. But if it cuts costs, fine.
Pretty aggressive sharpening algorithm.
Definitely a friend of UPS and FEDEX.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Deliveries of what? Meth?
That face on the door isn't exactly welcoming.
Be sure to visit Carmel, a charming village at the north end of Indianapolis.
Do delivery doors make life unlimitedly complex?
Maybe doors are better left as fun and games? Too much hard work the other way? Does Monty Hall need exercise daily? Like a pre-game warmup? Too easy to forget? Too important not to remember? Why bother?
For merry, or for sad, what deliveries are behind that door? - outgoing? - incoming? - enjoyed this moment in pleasures behind one closed door? - are the petty-little gods that we invent for ourselves awakening behind that door, readying the delivery of Pan’s Labyrinth? - perhaps a charismatic leader, Wizard-like, using charismatic talents, not knowing the next reveal will be of Incompetence, preparing now a ticker-tape Tweet for hungry-media-(business, economic, politick) starved souls, begging bread crumb trails, outside the door? - perhaps better minds, dressed in best-disguises of ordinary plain clothes, are inside, covering behinds from behind? - praying new containments of closed doors? - pleading new unleashments of open ones?
Cigars? - where the cigars? to smoke and join?
"And, if Providence ever drops in my lap another chance like that ... I may have radio malfunction again."
Brigadier General Frank Savage
Karen said... Be sure to visit Carmel, a charming village at the north end of Indianapolis.
Aye, that! And Crooked Creek Golf Club. If you can get in :).
Dress red. It’s not far, just a charming ride, from the Circle downtown, hub-o-the-world, corn-wise. I do love parts of the middle of America. Open back yards. No fences. Not so much of that in careful Carmel. From one Carmelite monk (once were Carmelite sisters there in Indy, witty and spry) to another Carmelite soul, though mine be far away, Carmel-by-the-Sea (grad study thereabouts), and not too far from another far away from-you-place, where you can’t duck pin bowl (wish we could), alas, but you can indeed get Squid Ink Beer. Squid Ink Beer and duck pin - would have it covered. In this other Carmel, you can watch marine cephalopods play. Kinda boring. Sorta. Okay, I lied.
Oh, to be a landlubber again. Hail Carmel! Not by the sea.
Carmel-by-the-Corn! :)
"And, if Providence ever drops in my lap another chance like that ... I may have radio malfunction again."
Brigadier General Frank Savage
Goodbye to "The Mooch."
"That face on the door isn't exactly welcoming."
I think it represents a reflection.
The Lord be praised - we are finally getting a monsoon cloudburst in Paradise Hills!
I read this fascinating article on the WaPo site, about a woman from an Irish-American Catholic family who took a DNA task and discovered that all was not as it seemed:
WHO WAS SHE? A DNA TEST ONLY OPENED NEW MYSTERIES
Long article short, it turned out that her father and another baby boy had been accidentally switched after birth at Fordham Hospital in New York. The man who became her father was actually born to an Eastern European Jewish immigrant family. The two men never knew who they really were. And of course, the only reason that their children and grandchildren even exist is because someone at the hospital got the babies mixed up, otherwise they would have grown up in totally different situations and never married the women who bore their children. Of such chance circumstances are lives made up.
The article also has a cameo appearance by an author who is also a retired University of Wisconsin professor. Worth the time to read the whole thing.
1.45"! Woohoo!
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