I. I had this practically finished. Lorelei saw it the other day and said she wanted it. I didn't have the jack-o-lantern face on it then. She spent the night last night. I cut eyes, nose and mouth out of paper, actually did a couple different designs of the mouth. She chose one similar to this. I redesigned the mouth a bit and finished it today. She wants it to hang on her door.
2. It is that time of year...this is one of the poems that I have shared before. I did not fully fall in love it it till I heard it read by someone else. Below the video, I will copy and paste the words till you can read them as well as hear them.
When the Frost is On the Punkin
by
James Whitcomb Riley
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and the gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin'; of the guineys and the cluckin' of the hens
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O it's then the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
They's somethin kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here -
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny monring of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock -
When the frost is on the punkin and fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries - kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below - the clover overhead! -
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage, too!
I don't know how to tell it - but if sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me -
I'd want to 'commodate 'em - all the whole-indurin' flock -
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock! This poem is in the public domain.
3. How about a Simon's Cat video...this one reminds me of our cat Bubbie, but the part where he is on Simon's head and wrapped around his head reminds me of the first cat I had in our married life....he actually did sleep across my forehead and wrapped around my head just like that for the first few years of his life...
4. We sat here and watched a show I recorded...Infinity Hall Live...it had some of the best songs from some of the artists over the years. My favorites were America, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Los Lonely Boys...
5. Roger had an off day today...nothing real bad but was dizzy and kept saying he felt so goofy. I hate for him to feel like that and always feel concerned. But I tell myself that these days are to be expected after what he went through.
That is it for the night...I have been trying to type on this all night...just now getting it finished.
