Monday Morning


It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything in my office building.  I’m usually not the first person in the building any more now that one of the guys that I work with likes to slide in early to work out in the small gym down in the basement.  But not this morning.  The place was dark and quiet and sleeping when I arrived this morning.

It was close to 4:50 AM when I walked thru the front doors and made my way across the main floor.  I stopped to fish out my mag card for the elevator when I clearly heard footsteps coming across the tile floor.  I looked up to see who was coming my way and there was nothing.  These were different than the ones that I’ve heard before.  These footsteps sounded more like the sounds a lady’s high heels make with their tap-tap-tap across a tile floor.  The footsteps that I’ve heard before were always heavy like a man’s boots or heavy shoes walking across the floor.

I turned my “Ghost Radar” app on my iPhone just for fun when I unlocked my office door.  It suddenly came alive with words like “forgive”, “patience”, “perfume”, “bag” and a few others that I would normally associate with being my feminine versus masculine.  And then it stopped.  There’s been no activity for the past half hour.

I think something just wanted to let me know that it (or they) was still here.

Sunday


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February is almost done and March looks like it will come in like a lion.  That white stuff is falling from the sky right now.  It’s falling cuz it’s too cold to rain.  Then I took a look at the weather forecast for the week and yesterday’s teaser weather was just that; a teaser.  The Ice Maiden doesn’t want to give up her grip on us just yet.  My countdown to snow out still shows another month.  I’d like to push it along and hurry it up but it will go in it’s own good time.

So we’ll stay indoors today with maybe the exception for a quick run to the market.  My house smells like fresh bread now that I’m done baking a couple loaves of bread and it will smell like pizza soon enough from yesterday’s leftover lunch with the kids.  There’s something about some leftover pizza if you reheat it right.

Art Sunday #64: Francisco Goya – El Gran Cabrón/Aquelarre (Witches’ Sabbath)


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The Black Paintings (Spanish: Pinturas negras) is the name given to a group of fourteen paintings by Francisco Goya from the later years of his life, likely between 1819 and 1823. They portray intense, haunting themes, reflective of both his fear of insanity and his bleak outlook on humanity. In 1819, at the age of 72, Goya moved into a two-story house outside Madrid that was called Quinta del Sordo (Deaf Man’s Villa). Although the house had been named after the previous owner, who was deaf, Goya too was nearly deaf at the time as a result of an illness he had suffered when he was 46. The paintings originally were painted as murals on the walls of the house, later being “hacked off the walls and attached to canvas..” Currently they are held in the Museo del Prado in Madrid.

Using oil paints and working directly on the walls of his dining and sitting rooms, Goya created works with dark, disturbing themes. The paintings were not commissioned and were not meant to leave his home. It is likely that the artist never intended the works for public exhibition: “…these paintings are as close to being hermetically private as any that have ever been produced in the history of Western art.”

Source:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Paintings

Saturday


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The sun hadn’t even started setting and you could feel everything cooling off.  It was a nice break from grey and cold and ice and we had quite a bit of ground cover melt off today.  Tomorrow the Ice Maiden returns to set us straight and remind us as to where we lived.  We’ll see what tomorrow brings.  It will be a baking day and maybe even a stew day.

 

5 New Completely Useless Facts About Me (or how I tried to kill some time Friday night)


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1  I never ever wanted to be a hippy.  My oldest sister did but she never quite made it.  She was more of a “Weekend Hippy”.  Besides, the nuns in my Catholic school frowned on the long hair and beards on us 10 year old hooligans when we were experiencing the height of the hippy era.  They pretty well killed any hopes and aspirations in this area and told me it was something for me to think about when I went to confession.  I made up some other sins that I may or may not have committed.  I never quite figured out why Father E. would always sigh whenever I went to confession.  I always figured lunch wasn’t sitting right with him.

2.  I have this fear of sharks which is one reason I never joined the US Navy.  Well actually I had a number of reasons why I didn’t wanna join the Navy but this is one of them.  I had this vision of whatever ship I was on would sink and the sharks would look at me and go “Mmmmm!  Corn fed and well marbled. Nom!  Nom! Nom!”  That’s not good for the home team.

3.  I’ve always wanted to have an affair with a French lady by the name of Marie.  Unfortunately most French ladies by the name of Marie that I met always seemed to come equipped with a husband who generally frowned on the idea of his Marie having a boy friend and a husband.

4.  I don’t care what that nun said.  I did not intentionally set that grass fire behind the school.  The matches in my pocket were more than likely planted by one of them Catholic girls that I went to school with.  They would never admit it but we boys all knew the nuns taught the girls all sorts of sneaky things to pull on us innocent and angelic boys.  We said that to Father E. once and he rolled his eyes and shook his head for some strange and unexplained reason.  I think he knew we were on to them but he didn’t want to admit it cuz he probably had some secret pact with the nuns.

5.  I rolled this car tire down one of the city’s highest hills late one Saturday night when I was … well, my age it that time is unimportant.  What really matters was it was beautiful sight watching it roll down the hill, bounce off a Ford, straighten out, gain speed, roll thru two stop signs, roll thru a red light, over a bump, past a police car, thru another red light, hit the curb, bounce into the air and then right thru Kresge’s front door.  Well, it was beautiful up to the door part.  I ran like hell outa there.  It’s a good thing they never got my fingerprints off of that tire.  At least I don’t think they lifted them.