In Which We Learn Whether Or Not I Can Upload A Photo & Then Write About It

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Let’s pretend that my last post didn’t happen.  Okay?

Which is to say that if you’ve arrived here expecting to see a post about me having lunch, I deleted it.  The post, not lunch.

I didn’t delete the post because I said anything bad, but because the photos, which made the post interesting, looked hazy.  Not pretty.

In fact, when I uploaded them yesterday the WP system wouldn’t let me upload them in the normal way.  I had to revert to an older way of uploading photos to get them here.

And once here, not so clear.

So now, today, this very morning, I decided to upload a test photo to see how the WP system is working today and to see how my photo looked.

And wouldn’t you know it, today’s photo, of two of my mother’s old recipe booklets that I keep in one of my desk drawers, is the epitome of clarity.  And coconut.

Thus proving that I’m tenacious, I can upload photos, I can write a post of the fly, and that I’ve kept some rather unique items that belonged to my mother.

For no discernible reason. Which seems to be the theme of this post.

A Bear Went Across The River To See Who He Could Court

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There’s a WHAT? WHERE?  

MOM!!!    

• • •

They tell us that this rarely happens.  That’s what they say.

I mean, I’ve lived in southern Ohio for 25+ years and it’s a first.

Rather like the nighttime burglars who scared us into turning our lights on & speaking with one another.

Shocking, really.

Of course, the human miscreants have been nabbed.  Put in the hoosegow.  Sent away for bothering us here in suburbia.

• • •

But this fellow

is getting away with anything and everything that he can…

because the authorities don’t want to mess with him…

and because he’s cute.

Never underestimate cute.  Remember Smokey? And Yogi? And Fozzie?

But you have to wonder, did they manage to have 2 Twitter accounts: @ClermontCtyBear & @MiamiTwpBear?

• • •

Just observe him, they say.

He’s only looking for a mate. 

Bears are good swimmers, they tell us.

Isn’t it wonderful how he made it this far north into Ohio?

If you encounter him, they suggest that you do this:

“Speak in a firm voice and if necessary, raise your arms above your head and clap.”

• • •

Taking a differing point of view than the authorities, I am.

Waiting each day to learn that an 85 lbs male black bear has caught a ferry back to Kentucky and is looking for love in all the right places.

Hoping to go outside at night without fear.  Too much to ask?

Don’t care if it is.  Asking for it anyway.

4 Grouchy Reasons Why April Is My Least Favorite Month

 I’m allergic to April.  The pollen from the trees makes me itch & sneeze.  The mold spores, that magically appear after the snow melts, make me itch & sneeze.  And the dust mites?  Don’t even get me started.  They’re everywhere I want to be outside, like on the porch furniture and terra-cotta pots and the mailbox.  Everywhere I tell you.

 I’m not a fan of Easter because the stupid holiday moves around the calendar and as much as I try to be a good sport about it, this behavior seems rude to me.  Easter, just pick a Sunday and stick with it.  That way I’d have a clue about when to buy a ham and some asparagus– maybe a pineapple, too.  But as it now stands Easter’s laissez-faire attitude thwarts me, and I rarely manage to make a special holiday dinner.

  I’m not thrilled with the whole “pay your taxes” part of April.  While I’m happy to be an American citizen and understand why I’m paying taxes, doing so does tend to make me a bit grouchy.  I think that it does for everyone, but maybe not.  Perhaps there’s some whack-a-doodle who enjoys giving money to the government.  Probably has her own reality TV show, too.

 And my final reason for not liking April is that I have to acknowledge that my pasty white legs, which are getting chubbier every year, look more and more like uncooked bratwursts.  During the fall and winter I can hide my legs, but every April when I put on my first pair of shorts for the year I discover that my legs look awful– and it comes as a shock to me every single time.  *humph*

• • •

• • •

Grouches of the world unite!
Stand up for your grouchly rights!
Don’t let the sunshine spoil your rain
Just stand up and complain.

Let this be the grouches’ cause:
Point out everybody’s flaws!
Something is wrong with everything
Except the way I sing!

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