Every Picture Tells a Story 9/30/18

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/29/18

As seen on an abandoned storefront in Mom's neighborhood.

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/28/18

Yet another party I was not invited to.

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/27/18

Had breakfast yet? Here ya go.

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/26/18

Yes...well...deeeeeear...I'm sure some friends might disagree with this statement...

A Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/25/18

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/24/18

This is Moose.

Moose is one of Mom's cats.

Actually, since I currently live with Mom and sleep on her couch, he's my cat.

Moose was named for his size--you can't tell from this closeup, but Moose is an enormous cat. Weighs about 20 pounds, but he's not fat--most of that weight is muscle. He gets his exercise chasing the other cats around the house, especially the youngest, Lincoln--another male. (More on him later.)

Moose is also an indoor cat--very important, especially since we live on a fairly busy street and he'd likely get run over if we let him roam the neighborhood. And? he's a black cat--not good to leave black cats out with Shocktober almost upon us.

The Song Stuck in My Head This Morning

I rarely get songs stuck in my head anymore, mostly because of the memory issues brought on by the heart attacks I suffered back in June 2015. (I have enough trouble remembering the code for the bathroom at work, much less the lyrics to "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" or "A Day in the Life.")

This morning, though, I've had a particular song running through my brain. A power ballad, in fact, from a most unlikely source:

Kiss.

"Beth" isn't really a Kiss song, though. It was recorded with only one member of the group in the studio, and the least likely to do so: Drummer Peter Criss. He'd co-written the song (with Stanley Penridge) as "Beck," short for Becky, the wife of a bandmate in a group Criss belonged to before Kiss (according to Wikipedia, anyway).

Gene Simmons was apparently opposed to including the song on a Kiss record, and I kind of get his point: the band was known for hard rock, big sound, tongue-wagging and blood-spitting--not gentle ballads devoted to lonely spouses. Cooler heads prevailed, though, and "Beth" made it onto the very Kiss-tastically named "Destroyer" album.

And it went on to be the group's highest charting single.

So there.

(EDITED TO ADD: With this entry, I've written four this year--one more than the last two years...combined.)

Dear CTA Riders

Hi. How are you this morning? Happy Tuesday!

Most people I know don't drive to work, but they do take the train or bus (sometimes both).

Makes sense. We live in one of the largest metropolitan areas on the planet, with one of the most extensive public transportation systems. It might not get you there on time, but it will get you there.

Riding the bus and/or train becomes a hassle, though, when other riders don't respect the rules (and, thus, other riders) by keeping their bags slung over their shoulders rather than taking them off and holding them in front of them as they push their way through the conveyance of choice/necessity.

And then? if they do find a seat, they like to have a seat for their backpack or purse or shopping bag or whatever, too, thus leaving someone else to stand and stare.

Listen, please. We all want to get where we're going as quickly, quietly, peacefully and comfortably as possible. Nobody likes to stand, especially when there's a seat available.

So do those of us who usually do the standing a favor: Move that backpack/bag/purse into your lap. Or onto the floor. Yes, I know--CTA floors are nasty. They usually run with fluids that may be the remnants of cleaning fluid, or...not. I agree. I sympathize. Really, I do.

But I also am usually the person who gets smacked in the head or shoulder or back by your bag as you try to squeeze past me to as seat in the back of the bus that isn't really there, or as you stand beside me and turn to check your iPhone for the latest LOL Cat meme.

So please. For the safety and comfort of your fellow passengers on the bus, on the train, and in life, hold your bag toward the floor and hold it ahead of you as you try to squeeze past me toward that seat that isn't there. My shoulders/thighs/back/head would appreciate it.

(Almost) That Time of Year Again...

This morning on my way to work, I couldn't help but notice the autumnal snap in the air. The leaves on the trees are still green, but a strong northerly breeze sends the unmistakable signal: Fall is almost here.

As regular readers might know, I love Fall more than any other season. The coolness. The colors. The horror movies on every station that still shows movies.

And in the stores? All Halloween, all the time.

Been that way for years now--They don't even wait for Labor Day anymore. Now? Pumpkins and witches and spiders galore can be found on display in every store. From the neighborhood Family Dollar (a converted Woolworth's, if I'm not mistaken) to the local Targets (seems you can't shake a broomstick without hitting one) to even Walgreens and CVS, the summer stuff has been put away, and shrieks and screams from all sorts of window hangers abound.

Most years, I've held to a strict routine: Wait until October. Wait until the month of Halloween. Wait.

This year? No waiting.

This year? I'm ready.

NOW.

So drag out your jack o'lanterns, dust off your rubber rats (sorry, JB) and string those cottony white spider's webs across front yards and windows. Hang your cardboard vampires and werewolves from your doors. Dangle those skeletons in your entry halls.

I'm ready for you all. Bring. It. On.