Tag Archives: humor

Now and Again, Things I Would Term, “Idiosyncrasies” Pop Into My Brain as I Write

Now and again, things I would term, “idiosyncrasies,” pop into my brain as I write. It came to me this week that I would combine a number of them into my post and see if you had the same insights into my perceived conundrums. I guess, in words we both can understand, I should restate these items are as out of place or so strange as to warrant further investigation.

My first offering is Latin. I frequently read that Latin is a dead language and no longer spoken. Now, I can get behind this, for I never hear someone in everyday life speaking this dialogue that no longer exists . . . or do I? An argument can easily be made to the contrary, that in America we speak English, a language that an overwhelming amount of root words are derived from Latin. It seems to me the language we call dead, is anything but.

My next fuel for fodder begins with metaphors and similes. Two words that are so similar one can be used to define the other. Throw in analogies along with euphemisms, and you have four words that in one way or the other are tied in with the word similar. Go figure, only in American English,

I would like to conclude with a few examples of spelling words in such a way as to make one think mind altering drugs were used when these words were developed. How about “kernel? Makes sense right? Then, why do we have to clutter things up with “colonel”? Why does “minute” reflect time and “minute” reflect size? You or I can “core” an apple, but if we join the Marines we’re in the “Corps”. Did you know that the dictionary’s definition of “suttle” is a frequent misspelling of “subtle?” If a doe is a deer then why is “dough” “needed” or “kneaded” to make bread?

If you figure this post out, please let me “know,” in “no” uncertain terms because the lack of knowledge can be a “tuff” and in some cases a very “tough” pill to swallow.

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Just When You Think It’s Over, Here We Go Again

Just when you think it’s over, here we go again, at least for those who live in the great state of Georgia. There is going to be a runoff for two Senate seats around the fifth of January. On the news, it was mentioned that the state would be inundated with political commercials until then. If you read my last two posts, you are aware of my distaste for political ads and total disdain for politics in general. I wanted to make sure that I finished what I started, hence the beginning of this post.

I will now attempt to segue from politics into something that makes more sense–leaf removal. I have not a clue how the world revolves in your neighborhood, but in mine, we are overwhelmed with noise pollution from leaf blowers. Saturday mornings and most weekday evenings, (when dry) remind me of an outdoor chainsaw convention.

I’m not trying to direct all the blame throughout the neighborhood without absorbing my part, for my leaves have to be removed, also. I guess the futile part of this plan is on average within 24 to 48 hours of said removal my yard is covered once again in leaves. Now, if you are comparing pros and cons, the con would be a yard full of leaves; on the other hand one distinct pro might be a yard of totally different leaves.

Think of the fun with a new carpet of color adorning your front and back lawns.

Good times!

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Political Adventure, A Foreboding Of Things To Come

This is the week of political adventure, a foreboding of things to come.

It just never ends. As I mentioned last week, I despise politics, so around mid-day on Super Tuesday, I noticed my first epiphany, political ads had come to an end. Oh joy, oh bliss, oh rapture, thought I.

Then, much to my chagrin, came Wednesday morn–no Prez. Even amidst this turmoil, to my delight, no political commercials throughout the day and into the night. Then, sunrise Thursday morning came, sporting no commercials of the political persuasion, but still no Prez.

Friday morning dawned much the same, only, now, we are told there is the possibility of shenanigans. Oh my, don’t tell me there is corruption within the hallowed halls of our political system, for that would be unheard of. Did I mention I really, really don’t care for politics?

Then, Saturday comes and whaddaya know? We finally have a Prez. I can’t understand why anyone would want the job, but I do wish him the best. 

Now, it looks as though my greatest predicament will be deciding the pecking order of the lowest vocation to which one can sink. Right now, politicians are nudging out the ambulance-chasing lawyers for the first to be last.

However, on a serious note, I love this country and pray that God will continue to shine upon her.

Oh, and just in case I didn’t bring it to your attention . . . I loathe politics.

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In the Throes of Super Tuesday

Every four years, we find ourselves in the throes of Super Tuesday; meaning, we are electing our Commander-and-Chief for the next four years. I realize politics is not the best subject to discuss; however, I choose to trod into this danger zone regardless of the backlash.

We must begin by looking at each candidate. On the one hand, there is candidate number one. While on the other hand, is candidate number two.

I believe our Constitutional Republic is the best this world has to offer. I also feel fortunate to live in the United States of America and will proudly state my position at any time.

I must preface any further discussion by stating, “I despise politics.” I can’t think of many things I despise more than politics. (In the past, I have noted that I live about two hours from downtown D.C. When I travel north on 95, I feel my I.Q. dropping the closer I get to Washington. I rate politicians among the dregs of society right along with ambulance chasing lawyers and motivational speakers.) Even though the political process is abhorrent to me, due to the scandals, kickbacks, money grubbing liars, and all around nasty people we put into office, I encourage you to vote on Tuesday.

I know, I know . . . I need to get off the fence and let my true stance be known.

Have a great week and just think, no more political ads after Tuesday! And after all of this political commotion, “May God bless us, everyone!” (to coin a phrase from Tiny Tim.)

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It’s A Short Jaunt To Our Mailbox

Living in a rural area, it’s a short jaunt to our mailbox for the daily arrival of our mailman. I place the letters in the box and raise the flag so he’ll know there’s a pickup. On my way up the driveway back to the house, I hear the sound of fall. Acorns dropping, as I mentioned last week, and leaf-blowers removing the first deceased leaves of the season. All around I see different colors depending on the variety of tree. I’ll have to say, this is the most colorful time of the year. Yellow, red, rust, and green, these colors set off the entire forest with an unprecedented beauty of its own.

Normally the days of fall usher in cooler temperatures with a nighttime nip in the air. However, today there seems to be a large amount of confusion in the surrounding area. The color still remains and the sounds are the same, but the temperature is 80°. Exhausted bumblebees and haggard butterflies sip the last vestige of nectar from dying flowers.

I assume before long, the cold air will set in. Some insects will die leaving eggs to hatch in the spring. Others will band together and weather the winter months, while some will hibernate sheltered underneath tree bark.

Me, well, I guess I’ll stay inside where it’s warm and write this weekly blog. Aside from that there’s always a novel in the works, my latest to be released in the next few weeks. Dalon Con . . . the Annihilation of Time is my first trip into temporal travel. Take a gander at my website, lynnsteigleder.com and have a great week!

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The Season Of The Nut Job

Well, it’s that time of year again, and I’m not talking about fall, even though we are in the middle of autumn. Where I live, we have a season within a season and we call it, “The Season of The Nut Job.” Let me explain.

In my front yard grows an abundance of oak trees. Beginning in October, acorns start to fall. Now, when I say acorns start to fall, I’m sure you immediately think, “What’s the big deal about a tiny nut such as an acorn dropping from a tree?” What you don’t understand is these nuts have a mind of their own. They don’t drop one here, one there, plink, plink, plink. No, they drop by the bucketful.

It honestly sounds like foot-falls across our roof. Park a car in this danger zone, and it will remind you of someone playing a desperately out-of-tune xylophone.

A hard-hat is required to stroll through the front yard without receiving head trauma. Once you acquire your cranial protection to move through this area with reasonable safety, you must prepare to walk as if you were stepping on marbles. If by the end of your jaunt you have made it safely (side stepping bodies of the unlucky ones) to the mailbox and back to the front porch with minimal damage, you may count yourself among the fortunate.

The squirrels, of course, love the deluge of protein sent their way to enjoy during the upcoming cold winter months. If you take a notion to find out what an acorn tastes like, and it doesn’t kill you, please let me know. I’d have enough food to last me till the cows come home . . . of course, that’s another blog.

Have a great week and may God bless!

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During My Drinking Days, I Suppose, “Pass Out,” Would Have Stood In For, “Sleep”

Ever slept out under the stars? Ever slept in a tent? Ever slept out of doors in any fashion just to get back to nature? I’d have to say, “yes,” to all three. Of course, as much as I hate to admit it, during my drinking days, I suppose, “pass out,” would have stood in for, “sleep,” under whatever was overhead when I decided to nap.

Some of the worst night’s sleep I ever experienced happened during the summer in a tent. As a teenager, several of us got together to participate in a night of camping. All we had was an old canvas tent, the operative word being old. As it is frequently wanton to do on hot summer nights, the rain began to fall. Not a gentle steady rain, but an out-an-out gully-washer.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of spending a night in a canvas tent during a rain, but let me assure you, all is well as long as you don’t touch the ceiling of the tent.

On this particular night as we scrambled into our canvas abode and zipped the doorway shut, at least a generation of mosquitoes beat us to the punch. We grabbed our flashlights and began poking the blood sucking insects that landed on the ceiling.

The rest of the night was spent swatting mosquitoes and dodging drips that turned into rivers and ran through the floor of the tent.

Every time I attempted to sleep in a tent, rainy summer nights turned into muggy summer days. I finally realized that a camping trip for me equated to a hotel room with an easily accessible thermostat. So, happy camping, and I’ll leave the light on for me. Have a great week!

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Talk About Being in the Right Place at the Right Time . . . “Burp!”

I caught the cooking bug a few years back and dove head first into the world of gourmet food. I became a foodie and followed that trail for quite a few years. The job I had at the time fell in place with fine wine and dining. Talk about being in the right place at the right time . . . “burp!”`

I found myself able to travel the country sampling exceptional eats and drink.

One of my earlier novels contained several large banquets of exotic fare due to a post-apocalyptic earth. I received several reviews that thought the book needed to reduce the time characters spent sitting around a table shoving their faces full of food.`

I still enjoy fine dining occasionally, but my pallet thankfully has reverted to enjoying simpler fare. Give me a well-dressed hot dog or brat. If not a dog, then a perfectly grilled burger, toppings unlimited.

 I do have to draw the line at certain fast food. If the material used to prepare my meal is shipped by tractor trailer, frozen and ready to drop into hot grease, it’s probably not for me. If the burger whinnies and the chicken’s . . . well, not really chicken beyond a reasonable doubt, I’d probably pass it by.

If I’m in the mood for a pizza and the eateries offering more resembles or worse tastes like Bisquick and Ketchup, I’ll make a B-line to an Italian restaurant where English is a foreign language.

I grew up on grandma’s fried chicken. What I find most ironic in this day and age is your average person either cannot or will not attempt to fry a piece of chicken. This usually arises for fear of overcooking the outside and the inside remaining underdone.

Here’s where I pile kudos on top of the fried chicken, fast food industry. They have cooking chicken down to such a science; a high school student can fry a perfect batch without fail. Come to think of it, I’m getting a taste for something crunchy like, with a good bit of spice . . . gotta go, have a great week!

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I See Our Country As Having The Greatest Government In The World. The Problem Comes When You Throw Human Beings Into The Mix

I don’t care much for politics. In fact, it would be a pretty safe bet to place stating I despise the very word. It’s not to say I don’t approve of our democracy or for the sake of accuracy, constitutional republic, because I do. I see our country as having the greatest government in the world. The problem comes when you throw human beings into the mix.

 Now, in this mix, you end up with money grubbing, power hungry, kittens in a pile of sand-sized clay particles trying to cover one another, like turds in a litter box.

I live within a couple of hours of downtown Washington, DC and can feel my IQ dropping the closer I get to this political haven.

It would be great to see these boys and girls playing nice for a change, instead of day after day inventing new episodes of “Romper Room Gone Wild.”

Oh well, I suppose you can’t ask for any more than your given, although it would be nice to incorporate a little civility. Even if I have a hard time assimilating the notion of a political climate, I watch the news every day for that very reason. I may not like it but I need to know what’s going on. I’ve given you enough to think about for the upcoming week.

Have a great one!

Toodles

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8 Tracks, CD’s, Vinyl, or Carrier Pigeon. Don’t Much Care How I Get The Music, As Long As It Keeps On Comin’!

My “go to” for music in my younger years was cassettes. However, 8 tracks, CD’s, vinyl, or carrier pigeon-don’t much care how I get the music as long as it keeps on comin’. I do remember 8 track tapes, as my father frequently used that media to play his country favorites. Vinyl albums were still the crème de la crème of audio; however, nothing could beat the portability of the pocket sized cassette. As time progressed, the hardware for playing these miniature marvels excelled in quality until they matched everything the turntable could do without the bulk and the fear of scratches.

It was somewhere during this journey, long before I considered becoming an author, my goal was to be a rock star. This culminated after years of playing bars, hotels, roadhouses and every other dive in between, with having my first child and deciding I’d listen to music in lieu of playing said tunes. As my son grew, I had the great blessing of teaching him to play the bass guitar, and we went on to serve together in our church praise band.

Back to the world of audio media, the cassette became obsolete shortly after the CD was introduced. The compact disc would cure all ills present in the world of ear candy to date. Storage problems, superior distortion free sound, constructed from materials that would last, along with numerous other advantages.

Who knows what they will come up with next. The CD gave birth to the DVD, Blue ray disc, and beyond that I’m in the dark.

Oh well, I’ve ridden about as far as I care to on the technology train. Guess I’ll be getting off at the next stop . . . then again, maybe not.

Have a great week, and God Bless!

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