Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.
This spring time will forever be remembered as the year the groundhog missed the call. Damn Groundhog, he should be shot, or at least fired. Getting every bodies hopes up and all. Then no early spring.
Damn Groundhog, he should be shot. But with all this gun control talk and all, maybe he should just be slapped up the side of his head. Guess that’s what we get for putting our faith into the prognostication of a groundhog. Maybe we would be better served by putting our faith into a Weegie Board. After all, everybody knows those Weegie Boards, well, Weegie Board do tell the truth, unlike that damn groundhog, that should be shot, or slapped up the side of his head.
Maybe Mr. Groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, is of the political philosophy who’s members prefers to sleep well into mid morning, or even early afternoon, and so for being drug out at such an ungodly early hour, he just jerked around with the prediction for 2013 just for the hell of it. Either way, we sure got fooled on this early spring of 2013.
I’m not sure but I think Punxsutawney Phil was appointed Groundhog Czar in 2009. Back when all the Political Czars were being appointed by the new White House for the first time. Back when the current White House occupants were young and stupid. Oh well, at least they are no longer young.
Sophia, the Calico Conservative Republican Cat, has truly entered into adulthood of the cat world. She no longer asks if she can have a bite of whatever I’m eating, she now takes it for granted. She just walks up and helps herself. The other day I found myself at Knox Indiana close to lunch time, so I went thru that McDonalds Drive thru part. Ordered a fish sandwich, and the little girl voice in the magic talking box at the curb said “Sir would like the second Filet-O-Fish sandwich for only one dollar more?” I said sure. Pulled up, paid the price, grabbed my bag of McDelight and headed home to the EastWing for lunch in the company of a cat, not just any cat, but Sophia.
To have lunch in the EastWing during the tax season is such a special pleasure. And I so enjoyed the moment. I took all the bread off everything and put the contents on a plate. I’m setting at the dining room table, Sophia pops up on the table, walks over and takes a bite of the Filet-O-Fish. Gives me that “Sophia when she smiles” look, takes another bite and steps off the table. She didn’t even say please, or thank you. Sophia when she smiles. Damn Republican Cat.
WOW ! another end to the crunch of the tax filing season. Not a minute too soon. Looking forward to the start, looking forward to the end. Every year, every single year, it’s always the same, looking forward on both ends. It’s kinda like coming and going, they’re both fun, but in different directions.
It’s 105 days of work every day. No time off, just work every day. Long days, long into the night work days. Just keep going long after you’re tired, just keep going. Then when you start to think it will never end, it ends . When I wake up tomorrow, day 105 will have been reached. Then it’s once more over the line sweet Jesus, once more over the line. I’m now looking forward to playing in the sunshine. Here comes summer, oh happy days!
One of the things ya gotta love about the spring time. Things grow. Everything grows. In fact, it’s almost impossible to keep things from starting to grow. Even if you have a bag of potatoes in the dark, this time of the year, they’ll sprout. So will onions, they’ll also grow. I don’t even know how potatoes and onions know that it’s time to grow, even when they’re in the dark, the just do. It’s as if God flipped the switch and everything comes to life all at the same time. Yep, boys and girls, it’s called the Springtime. In the springtime if you put stuff in the dirt, It’ll grow. If you don’t put it in the dirt, it’ll still grow. Remember that potato and onion in the dark? They grow.
As I sit looking out the south glass wall of the EastWing, the two front garden Maple Trees have started to pop the buds. Little fellers at first, those buds of springtime. but leaves of summer are hiding inside the little buds of springtime. The East Maple has buds the size of Bumblebees while the West Maple has buds only the size of what your imagination is to be smaller than the Bumblebee Buds of the East Maple. Now if you go outside at night, and don’t make a sound in the darkness, you can almost hear those little buds strain to pop open. But you gotta listen really hard. Then before ya know it, beautiful new Maple Trees will be waving their flags in the winds of summer. I love summer.
Talk about growing, remember that orange tree I started last year? Well in its first full year of life, my orange tree has reached a height of 18”. No oranges yet, but reaching for the sky, while growing like a weed. A new baby plant has just emerged thru the soil inside the orange tree pot. Not yet sure what it is. Did I plant another orange seed and forget or what? I’ll let you know when I figure out what’s growing beside the EastWing Orange Tree.
I expect the apple trees from two years ago to be poppin’ soon. Ya gotta love spring time, even when the Groundhog lets ya down. Damn Groundhog. Oh, I forgot, that groundhog, he has to be a democrat. Getting that Groundhog Czar job and all. I don’t think this White House has appointed too many Republican Czars. At least not so far. An interesting way to sidestep the congressional confirmation process in presidential appointments. Political Czars. It’s kinda like Chicago politics, Chicago Aldermen, only bigger. Rubber stamp people, only bigger. A Groundhog Czar. King for a day.
As winter melts into springtime, it’s such a joy to sit in the EastWing and watch the world turn green. One of the things I do in the spring is feed the early arrival birds of the springtime here at the EastWing.
The early bird feeding is always with mixed emotions. On one hand, I feed the birds. On the other hand, for my outside cats, they think I created a killing field in the front garden. But in this killing field the prey wins. As the cats stalk the birds on the ground, when the cats come too close, those birds just fly away home. No birds are lost in this killing field of the front garden. I’m glad.
Sophia, surly the most pampered cat in my pride of cats, had to try her hand at the killing field. A cat that has never missed a meal in her life, yet she felt compelled to lay in wait for the unsuspecting birds of the killing field. The success of Sophia mirrored the rest of the pride in the killing field.
Disappointed cats walk away simply wonder why it didn’t work out for ‘em in that killing field. Smart birds. If only humans could fly. Then the world could very well be a better place. Except one thing, I don’t do height well.
In fact I don’t do height at any height. I’ve never climbed an apple tree, never climbed anything taller than me . I can get dizzy at any height. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like being 6’ tall. Maybe I should have been born closer to the ground. ‘Cause I sure don’t like height. What the hell, I don’t even like to tiptoe. Me and height, we’re like vinegar and oil, we don’t mix.
The only reason I stopped doing forensic autopsy work way back in the 1970’s was the fact I had to fly to get to the job sites. When I left that line of work, two things happened. One was I quit wearing neck ties to work and two, I stopped getting into airplanes. I don’t do height well. Always figured if God wanted me to fly, he’d have given me wings. He didn’t, so I longer do.
Always remember, your tongue has no bones, yet it’s strong enough to break hearts. So choose your words softly. ‘Cause tongues cannot fix broken hearts. Only time can get that done.
Stay safe in Afghanistan.
From the EastWing, Damn Groundhog, Sophia Grows Up, 105 Days, Growing Stuff, Winter Melts Into Spring, Early Birds & Killing Fields, 6’ & Tiptoeing Not Thru The Tulips, No Wings For Me, Tongues And Time.
I Wish You Well,