My father sang a special song to me when I was a child, as I dug moats around my sand-castles and designed dixie-cup turrets atop the castle walls. I’ll never forget the day I heard the song being played on the radio. I’d had the idea my father had made it up, just for me. It was shocking to discover there were other Mary Ann’s in the world sharing my song. The words went like this: “All day, all night, Mary Ann. Sitting by the sea-side sifting sand.” When I was small, I spent every minute of every summer goofing off at our family lake home in Northern Idaho. That’s what I was put on this earth to do. Why else would Dad so cheerfully sing that song all the time?
Month: May 2010
Filters and Mufflers
At a recent family gathering, it was brought to my attention how so many of us come into the world with a malfunctioning filter. I was amazed by the number of times the women had to stop the men mid-sentence to remind them to put their filters on. Some of the men were apparently born without the knowledge or ability to develop their filters, or perhaps they don’t have one at all. It’s a big job to design and implement filters on some of these guys. They’re the ones that get a thought in their heads and the thought just comes flying out of their mouths without going through the filter first. We all know how much damage has been done over the years because of the lack of a good filter. It’s the same way with mufflers. Ever notice how so many men slap their hand down on the table to make a point, causing everyone in the room to jump? Ever notice how many booming voices could be lowered about ten octaves so the rest of us can hear ourselves think? What is it with the need to be heard, loud and clear, clean into the next county?…
As Far As Sausages Go…
I’ve never had a connection with sausages. They’ve always been a food to eat when living under a rock without the internet to tell us what’s in them. Or without the common sense to look on the package and read the list of death inducing ingredients. Like when we’re in that frantic stage of life when all we do is run around with our heads in the sand because it’s easier than facing one more issue to deal with. Pulling my head out years ago was an eye opener. Obviously, I could no longer eat a sausage. Then the foodies got in a snit and insisted on being able to partake of really great sausages that wouldn’t put them in cardiac arrest. Wallah! Ninety seven percent fat free turkey, tequila, and lime sausage! It’s not a heart attack waiting to happen after all, and they’re loaded with flavor. But what’s with the strangely edible little jackets all sausages come in? If the sausage wasn’t wearing the jacket, would it just spill out all over the place like a muffin top bulges out over the top of really tight jeans.? Or like some breasts do that are lifted and served up…