Last evening, Robert and I headed over to Big Bon Pizza in the hip Starland District of Savannah. (Being so hip myself, I like going to hip locations. As long as my right hip cooperates.) After voraciously enjoying their WONDERFUL hot-outta-the-brick-oven pizza …
… the Universe spoke to me as I waddled past Big Bon Bodega/Big Bon Pizza’s sandwich board:
An enlightening message I most definitely need to heed much more often!
(Even with the comma issue. 😩 Retired English professor.)
Here’s my mental activity as I continued waddling to the car:
Now isn’t that better?
Wait a second! Halt the waddling! Did I really just proofread and edit THE UNIVERSE?!
Now that youth is a far distant memory, and I’m just a couple of months away from turning … from turning … from turning … 70, I’d like to instruct anybody who ever points a camera (well, phone—does anybody use a camera any more ?) in my direction. Here are 10 foolproof suggestions.
1. Take my picture in the snow.
2. Have me get on a giant bed.
3. Let me hold my unicorn.
4. Have me stand on a bridge over troubled waters.
5. Incorporate mirrors.
6. Have me sit in a house with one window.
7. Make the best of focus.
8. Have me sit far away from the paparazzi.
9. Let me hold my big bird.
And 10. Push me in the pool.
There you go. No close-ups. Simple and easy.
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Okay, I’m joking. I love my age and where I am in life.
Fall is most definitely my favorite season of the year. Even with its touch of “summer’s over” melancholy, autumn slowly paints the world with warmly joyful colors, smells and scenes. The season makes me feel energized and ready to start anew (maybe partly because I’m a retired educator and still connect fall to the new school year).
Autumn wants to make us pause and smile.
Here’s a terrific poem, by late 19th century poet Paul Laurence Dunbar, which shows fall’s happy face. Read it out loud to feel, as well as see and hear, the words.
Merry Autumn
It’s all a farce,—these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o’er field and dell, Because the year is dying.
Such principles are most absurd,— I care not who first taught ‘em; There’s nothing known to beast or bird To make a solemn autumn.
In solemn times, when grief holds sway With countenance distressing, You’ll note the more of black and gray Will then be used in dressing.
Now purple tints are all around; The sky is blue and mellow; And e’en the grasses turn the ground From modest green to yellow.
The seed burs all with laughter crack On featherweed and jimson; And leaves that should be dressed in black Are all decked out in crimson.
A butterfly goes winging by; A singing bird comes after; And Nature, all from earth to sky, Is bubbling o’er with laughter.
The ripples wimple on the rills, Like sparkling little lasses; The sunlight runs along the hills, And laughs among the grasses.
The earth is just so full of fun It really can’t contain it; And streams of mirth so freely run The heavens seem to rain it.
Don’t talk to me of solemn days In autumn’s time of splendor, Because the sun shows fewer rays, And these grow slant and slender.
Why, it’s the climax of the year,— The highest time of living!— Till naturally its bursting cheer Just melts into thanksgiving.
So Robert and I were sharing the Kale Salad at Kale Me Crazy (I love their name) at lunch today in midtown Atlanta …
… when I dropped a forkful of kale (with peanut dressing) on my pants (a far too frequent occurrence) and reached for my napkin. The universe chose that very moment to share a bit/bite of truth … on my napkin!
I love this idea. It’s brilliant! He’s brilliant! It’s healthy! It’s word dieting!
People with long names or names that are difficult for me to remember (90% of all names) should join Ye’s revolution.
For example, take that fellow who said we should all get into “The Flow” to be happy and successful. Remember him? Csikszentmihalyi?
(I just had to take a 15 minute break after simply typing his name. Ruined my blogging flow.)
So anyway, how can I be expected to FLOW when I’m b(l)ogged down with his 20-letter name? I wouldn’t have to be so befuddled if he would simply Ye his name to Yi. Problem solved!
Or take politics.
(Please take politics!)
All that ugly name calling and acrimony might just be taken down a few notches if Kanye, I mean Ye, would be taken seriously and given the respect he deserves.
Let’s start with the President. Well, the President according to a little over half of the nation. Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. Did you know his middle name is Robinette? Seriously? What were his folks thinking?!
Here’s want Ye and I suggest. “Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.” is Ye’d down to “Bi.” That way the buzz around the President would switch from infrastructure and debt ceiling fighting to Bi’s sexuality. Which is far more intriguing, especially in a fellow his age. (And we all know that Jill is outta the White House often to teach at that community college.)
And what about Donald John Trump, the current President to a little less than half the nation? I just got off the phone with Ye, and we agree the former/current President Trump should now go by …
“Rump.” It’s an easy one syllable (I think), and it sorta fits in a couple of ways.
If the shoe fits.
All that Ye-ing forced me to take a serious look at my own rather messy blog name and see if it could be Ye’d. So from now on, NealEnJoy will simply be “Oy!” Doesn’t that sound hip? It did until Ye looked it up in Merriam-Webster and explained what Oy means.
Oy, gotta rethink my blog name!
I’ll get back with you when Ye and I have a chance to come up with a new name. But I’m afraid it may take a while since Ye told me he’s running for President … again. Isn’t that great news?! Problem is he’s having to send back truckloads of campaign materials because of the name change.
Head’s up: The blog may have to go on hiatus since I’m hitting the campaign trail soon. And I came up with Team Ye’s slogan.
NealEnJoy 