Rain was a popular subject for primary school children learning to read in the early 1900’s. I am basing this assumption on these stories from the Ontario Readers Primer, authorized by THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION (that part was important enough in the book to print in all caps bold) published in 1920.
How lucky am I to possess books that are almost a hundred years old? Even if the stories are blatantly sexist. Wimpy little girl afraid of the rain vs. bold adventurous little boy having fun.
In this case the smart males all seek shelter and the silly female goose doesn’t. Girls just can’t win.
Isn’t that delightful? The pages are well-read, faded and stained, the cover is worn and falling apart and the binding disintegrating and barely holding everything together. It’s one of the things my mother felt was worth saving, and it is one of my treasures.
Think of a time when you were completely wiped, totally exhausted, bone tired, and just plain done. Not quite dead, but really close. That was supposed to be me after working five days in a row.
But here I am, still conscious, reasonably lucid and almost pleasant to be around. Huh. I don’t know what happened. I expected to be passed out hours ago, comatose and in recovery mode for my two days off. I realize normal people work five days in a row all the time, but my four working days out of seven are broken up into small spurts with frequent home days in between, so I’m just not used to rising and shining day after day after day.
But when you’re short-staffed because some people quit and other people take vacations, these situations come up and you muddle through. In varying states of muddle-ness.
I do know I’m tired though, because there are other clues besides falling asleep mid sentence. When I’m over tired and can’t wind down, I find really dumb things hilariously funny. Like this for instance…..
Hahahaha! Caught poetry! Seriously I laughed way too long at this to be considered sane.
On a completely different note, our pair of mallard ducks continue to show up out of the blue every morning and evening because apparently our backyard is a fascinating place. Or there’s a lot more spilled birdseed out there than we realized. They are delightful to watch. We have also had visits from a lone Blue Jay and a Jackrabbit who is all splotchy changing from white to brown. I feel like I’m living in an enchanted forest. Another sure sign that I’ve been working too much.
Well, there. That certainly explains many things about this particular little ramble.
I hope you all are having a fabulous weekend! Mine has just begun. With any luck I’ll be able to stay awake for some of it. Maybe take some more miraculous wildlife-in-the-city pictures with my phone. Maybe we should build a duck blind! Maybe not. I’ll sleep on that one.
I can’t get them out of my head. What does this mean? The phrase takes me all the way back to high school English and teachers who analyzed poetry in particular, but also pretty much every other written thing, to death. I admit I liked trying to impress them with my twisted take on things. I expect a lot of authors would have been totally baffled by the garbage we came up with that they never meant at all.
Anyway, I want to know what you think. Please take my poll.
There are no wrong answers. Probably there are no right answers either. Thank you class. No going home for you until you finish this. I will mail you your marks.
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