Knock Knock

It’s the eleventh of March!  Get excited, because that means it’s Knock Knock Joke Day!  My all time favourite is this one:

Knock knock!

(Who’s there?)


(Irene who?)

Irene and Irene and nobody answers!

Well, it was supposed to make you groan.

It’s also the day we spring forward an hour, and it takes me about that long to find all the clocks in this house.  My watch, two clock radios, the docking station for the I-phone, two bedroom wall clocks, the computers (thankfully those are smart enough to change on their own), oven, microwave, coffee pot, two kitchen wall clocks, one living room wall clock, tv/vcr/dvd, phones…..why don’t the phones change by themselves?  And why are we so obsessed with what time it is?  This is like having jet lag without travelling.  And so far I’ve done only the main floor.  Maybe I’ll skip the downstairs – it’s going to be right again in the fall anyway.

I’ve noticed I’m kind of falling down on my 365 project which was supposed to be photos of things near and dear to me (i.e. junk in my house).  But the whole point was to have something to resort to if there was nothing else to blog about so that I could successfully meet the blog-a-day challenge and I’ve been doing that anyway.  Plus some of the crap I’ve taken pictures of borders on embarrassing if I think about it too much.

It did seem timely to share a clock picture today though.  It’s no family heirloom.  Just thought I’d point that out in case there was any confusion concerning plastic apple shaped time pieces from Wal-mart.

And on a completelly different note, is it really snow mold season again already?  I’ve been sneezing my face off for the last three days.  Time to turn on my little air purifier for awhile I guess and clear the air. It’s lovely and mild out there, the driveway is bare, the snow is melting, the birds are singing.  Seasonal allergies are just a small part of the big picture.

I have one more timely observation.  The Atco Gas guy came by on Friday and stared at our gas meter and our back wall for rather longer periods of time then I would have thought necessary to decide what kind of work will be involved in moving our gas meter outside.  Then he went to his truck and drew a rather involved picture of all the things he had stared at, and eventually came back to the front door to present me with a copy of his art work.  I asked him when they might be back to do the digging and the moving, and he said oh, spring, summer, fall… my guess would be that he’s paid by the hour, and not based on his decision making speed and number of completed assessmments.

Snow mold or no, I’m going for a walk today to stare at stuff and think thoughts of spring.  And not purchase any more clocks.  I should put that on my mental list of things to (not) do and leave it there forever.

Killer Pollen?

Is that what attacked me in April?  I’m still trying to figure out what made me so sick and ultimately caused bacterial pneumonia.  Apparently I still sound funny and nasal, although I am no longer breathing like Darth Vader.

Old people sooooo love to talk about their maladies.

What I’m actually here for is to sing the praises of Kate Morden and “The Forgotten Garden”.  Just a delightful book from beginning to end, even though it began at the beginning and almost immediately flew to the end;  and then hit random chronological spots here there and everywhere as the book progressed until finally getting the mystery solved.

Whew.  I usually am not a big fan of hopping around all over the place in a story, although from my writing you might not have grasped that fact.  But while reading this book it seemed perfectly fine and natural to me to jump from 1913 to 1930 to 2005 to 1976 and all the way back and forward again without ever getting myself all muddled up and confused.  Through generations and across continents.  A lovely and splendid journey.

I wanted to post a little blurb about it while I still have the beautiful peaceful feeling of continuity it gave me.  How weird is that, all things considered.  But when one life ends, so much of it continues on in the people who are left behind; so much of the life of someone in the future can be felt before it even starts.  And then when at last you walk into the light it all comes clear.  Well, anyway, I’m hoping that’s what happens. The final epiphany.

Kind of makes me want to research the past and dig up a few scandals.  But thankfully for my family I lack the necessary ambition, so their secrets are safe with me.  (Or from me.)  I’d just jump to conclusions and make things up if the facts proved elusive.  Should have been a historian I guess.

And to skip back to the beginning suddenly for no apparent reason, never mind about the pollen.  I think it was killer snow mold.