In my last entry, I avered that my wife's ancestors came from Farallon Islands, Ireland. Actually, the Farallon Islands are 27 miles west of ... San Francisco.
Nevertheless, family tradition states that the family is, indeed, from Ireland, regardless of what those of us who have "married into:" the family may claim.
AND I think Great-Grandfather O'Fallon is pretty impressive and very Irish.
Great Grandfather O'Fallon
Up at three am - again. And I ask the same silly question. Am I "up early" or am I "up in the middle of the night"?
It doesn't matter, it is just a question of wording, and I am the only person here. I will probably argue with myself for a while, there is little else to do.
Sunday evening television is so boring that I go to bed early, and thence wake up early. I watched mostly cartoon shows...cartoons for adults: Simpsons, Family Guy, King of the Hill, and a couple of others whose names I do not even remember. (Oh, what has television become?)
I guess I am "up early" since I am fully dressed. I am wearing green, the only green article of clothing I have, a tee-shirt, for Saint Patrick's day. I laughed to myself that I didn't think Saint Patrick was even "up yet".
I'm glad we have made an icon of shamrocks and Jolly Green Giant, St. Patrick. It gives my daughter a chance to celebrate her Irish heritage. Her mom was descended from the O'Fallons, presumably from the Faralon Islands , and you can't be more Irish than that unless you can dance an actual jig.
Happy Shamrocks, everyone, and if you're not wearing green, May the whisky in your coffee be as smooth as an Irish lullaby, anyway.
Daughter's Great-Grandfather O'Fallon
(Just because you can't be more Irish than he)
When checking out of the market yesterday, I noticed a box of Cheerios in my cart. "Those are not mine," I protested. "I ddn't buy any Cheerios."
"They are free," the clerk said. "Everybody gets Cheerios free." So I took them. After all, they are free.
After supper, late, I thought it would be nice to have a handful of dry Cheerios to munch. I opened the box, and then tackled the plastic bag inside. The plasic bag fought back. It didn't want to be opened. I gave the inner bag a BIG tug, and it came open ALL AT ONCE, sprewing Cheerios all over the room. There was a Cheerios explosion, and Cheerios flew everywhere looking like a late Winter snowstorm. The floor was covered.
I borrowed an old fashioned carpet sweeper from the caregivers and becan sweeping. The trouble with carpet sweepers is that when they pick up three Cheerios, they put back two. From my wheelchair I swept like mad. And when I swept as many as I could reach, I used a lint lifter to get more.
There I was late at night, leaning from my whelchair rolling a lint lifter all over the floor. I didn't enjoy my free Cheerios at all.
I took my first trip outside today. I went to the market for an avocado, peanut butter, tomato juice, flashlight batteries, cappuchino, and a taste of chocolate candy.
And ouch. Pardon me for being so candid, but I am still weating a catheter....one of thos bags that attaches to the most intimate part of your anatomy. My scooter has solid rubber tires. I felt every crack in the sidewalk, every seed from every tree that had fallen on the sidewalk, every pebble, as a tweak in the most delicate part of me.
I was barely able to concentrate on the beautiful sky, the wonderful gathering cumulus clouds, the clear air. My attention was rivited around my middle.
It was a gorgeous trip, but I am glad to be home seated on a cushion
I observed a large multi-horse trailer turning around in the back parking lot of the old folks home. You need a large area to turn such a large trailer, and the parking lot was perfect.
But I wondered, which of our residents has a string of polo ponies. The trailer was the type that transports the whole string, six or eight horses. Curious, I drew near.
Wham, crash, what a thrashing around...those horses will kill each other crashing around like that. I was worried. Then from the trailer came a plaintive, "Moo."
tags: On the way to market
I took my portable keyboard to exercise class this morning. I chose simple thythms and played them as we excecised.
I tried to suit the rhythm to the particular exercise, and even though it was the first time we did not do a bad job.
In fact, one person said, "That's the most fun we have had at exercise clas."
Woke up at four AM. I was delighted...my invention was awarded a patent. Then I realized that a patent was worthless. I had to collect the royalties that were due.
I am like the guy who invented the time delay windshieild wiper... great idea.. and every car used the idea..but nobody paid him. He spent the rest of his life trying to collect royalties. Critics and friends alike told him to forget it...invent something else, but no. He wanted crediti for his invention, and spent a forturne and a lifetime seeking it.
So I woke up frustrated. My idea was granted a patent, but I was cold. I still had to get up and turn on the furnace. So the great inventor rose. Was I up in the middle of the night, or just up early? I guess that depends on whether I go back to bed or not.
I haven't decided.
