Was A Very Good Day.

It was early morning.  I opened my front door and gazed at the gentle mist that lay upon the distant hill.  The air was fresh and the chorus of chirping birds filled the valley with sweet harmony.  I sensed this would be the start of a very good day.

It was mid morning and the sun glowed behind the laurel bush.  I sat in my chair and marvelled at this view out my living room window.  The flowers and the trees swayed side to side as the wind chimes played a peaceful tune. My 'inner child' spoke to me.  'Embrace this day.  For this will be a very good day.'

 

Early afternoon and I strolled to the top of my garden.  The mist had gone from the distant hill.  The valley was bathed in brilliant sunshine and my inner child danced with playful delight.  Oh, such a beautiful day.

And now the sun was setting.  I looked at the horizon and thought how grateful I am.  This enchanting day would soon be a tranquil night.  

It was now late at night.  The beckoning moon cast dreamy shadows upon the darkened landscape.  This would be the end of a very good day.  I went indoors to get some sleep.  In my dreams I knew that everyday could be a very good day.     

Rubber Gloves.

What is it with rubber gloves?  No, not that type of rubber glove!  I'm not talking about the kind you visualise as you smile nervously at the customs guy at the airport.  You start to sweat profusely, dreading the thought of being dragged by two security guards into some back room and told to bend over.  No, I state again, not that type of  rubber glove!

I mean this type of rubber glove.  You are washing the dishes and all seems fine.  The water is very hot and the cups and plates come out sparkly clean.  Then, as if by magic, the mystery hole appears.  How did this happen?  You do not recall suddenly having this weird urge to poke a hole in said glove.
So you're washing merrily away and you realise that your hand is getting very wet and that the water is indeed very, very hot!  You then curse and scream at the rubber glove.  This would be the same rubber glove that you cannot remove without the aid of your teeth.  This would be the same rubber glove, when it was still intact,  required you to blow into it like a balloon just to get the fingers on said rubber glove to reappear.
Of course, you knew you were on to a loser from the outset.  You knew when you bought the gloves that stated 'large' size on them; that they would be more suitable for a 'Munchkin'.  That's if Munchkins even bother doing the dishes.  Probably more interested in some flippin'  'Yellow Brick Road'.
So you get very frustrated with your rubber gloves.  Yet this frustration gives you an idea.  'Hey, I've kept some of the rubber gloves that don't have holes in them, in the cupboard under the sink.  Excellent, I can mix and match!'   So there you go.  One pink glove and one white glove.  Then the water trickles in.
At what lengths we go to avoid 'dishpan hands'.  Not much good when the rubber gloves keep splitting.  Even making a wish to my 'Fairy Liquid', failed.
Yes, I've thought about purchasing a dishwasher.  However, I recall just what a crap machine the last one was.  Ended up taking out all the 'clean' knives, forks, spoons, cups and plates and re-cleaning them in the sink with the rubber gloves that had holes in them.
I've just about had it with this glove affair.  What's glove got to do with it?  All you need is glove.  I'm not in glove.  I wanna' know what glove is?  Well, at least one that works properly.
So, that's just about it.  And remember, no, not that type of rubber glove!

The Wee Folks Wedding Date.

Dear people of the big world.  It is wish great pleasure that I, Fidelina, the fairy princess, wish to announce the date of my wedding to Geoffrey, the garden gnome.  We hope that you do us the great honour of witnessing the ceremony that confirms our undying love.
Klahanie, who is also known as Gary, has informed us that there has been much anticipation about our upcoming wedding.  We are truly touched that a lady from your big world posted a poem about us using the magic machine.  This is Julie's poem


The wee folks wedding is nearing
I think I need a new hat
Gary's been tending the garden
and watching out for that cat!

The invites are being posted
The fairy cakes almost cooked
The flowers have been ordered
and the honeymoon has been booked

The fairy princess is nervous
The garden gnome full of joy
When he looks at his beautiful fairy
He knows he's a lucky boy

The toadstools are being positioned
In neat little rows all around
But for me to see things clearly
I'll have to lie on the ground

And so I look forward with pleasure
And hope to see you all there
A wonderful, magical moment
One I can't wait to share.


Thank you for that, Julie.  Your poem has touched our hearts.


The date of our wedding is as follows.


Venue:  Klahanie's garden.
Date:    Monday, June 21st, 2010.
Time:    11:28 A.M. , British Summer Time.


Thank you, big people.  I send you warm, magical wishes. Much love to you all, Fidelina.  And now, my future husband would like to say a few words.

Hello my friends of the big world.  I just wanted to add a few more words.  We, the wee folks, live in a peaceful and magical world.  A world where dreams can realise reality.  
I dreamt that one day, the beautiful fairy princess, Fidelina, would love me as much as I love her.  My heart soared when I knew that our feelings were mutual.  That one moment, a tender moment, when I looked into her eyes and saw that unmistakable glow of love.  
So now, we wait for that day when we show our world and your world, that true love has no barriers.
I love you, Fidelina.

Stick With It.

There was this guy I knew who had a bit of yearly school tradition.  The poor fellow ended up in twelve different schools in twelve years.  At the beginning of each school year he would glue himself to the head teacher.  'Why do you do that?' I asked.  'Well, my parents told me that I should always stick to my principals.'
I have no idea where this blog is going.  It might go for a stroll through the park and end up at a take-away restaurant and order a pizza.  Can you tell I'm typing 'off the top of my head'?  Now how awkward is that?
'Knock, knock!'  Excuse me, ...'someone's knocking at the door.  Somebody's ringing the bell.  Do me a favour, open the door and let 'em in...'  Well, perhaps not.  Okay, I'm back now.  Yet another 'door-to-door' salesman.  I told him I don't need a door and that there is no reason whatsoever that I require a 'shiny new knob'.  'Sir', he stated.  'I'm merely wanting to canvas you.'  'Canvas me?  What?  You want to turn me into some kind of tent?'  He gave me a perplexed look and rushed off.  So quickly that he almost forgot his door, complete with the shiny new knob.
Let me see if I can do something that relates to the title of this posting.  Ah yes, 'stick'.  Apparently, 'stick' can be something that holds two objects together. It can be a small thin branch of a tree.  You can 'stick out like a sore thumb' and end up in a 'stick-up' as you 'stick to your guns' whilst getting 'stick' for living in the 'sticks'.  You can even have a hockey 'stick' , a walking 'stick',  a 'stick' of gum and oh yes...something else...now what is it?  Hmmm...a memory 'stick'.  And speaking of walking sticks.  This shepherd told me he was really struggling.  'Why's that?'  I inquired.  'Just can't get the staff these days.  Nothing but crooks.'
Note my hand desperately clinging on to that wonderful object of alleged stickiness.  It is sometimes known as 'Scotch tape' or 'Sellotape'.  Lets just call it a roll of sticky tape.  Sticky tape, the gift wrapping nightmare.  I usually end up with a series of teeth marks on said sticky tape.  It's one of life's great mysteries that the beginning part of the tape magically blends into the roll.  Several teeth marks later and I discover that broken shred of tape that comes of the roll and sticks to my fingers.  Then, I start again, frantically searching for that elusive spot that indicates where the beginning part of the tape is now hiding.  Yep, one of life's great mysteries.  Along with the mystery of the missing pens, combs and socks.
Right then, that's enough of this.  I managed to stick with it.  I hope you were 'glued' to your computer screen as you read the musings of a man who tried not to get unstuck.  If you somehow managed to stick with it and read to the end of this posting...well done!

The Wind Chimes.

Listen very carefully.   Can you hear those gentle sounds?  The chirping of the happy birds.  The rustling of the branches.  The soothing and peaceful songs of the wind chimes.  Sweet, sweet music dancing upon our ears and dancing in our souls.  Behold, the orchestra of wondrous delight.
I do all that I can to maintain a positive attitude.  Yet the memories of being a scared and lonely little boy haunt this scared and lonely man.  My father was powerful.  He instilled in me an overwhelming sense of being stupid.  To a scared and lonely little boy; if your dad says you're stupid then you must be stupid.
Oh, how I've tried to break his power.  Yet, the chains of doubt still burden my tormented mind.  Indeed, the self doubts and the low self esteem are always there; taunting and teasing me in my everyday life.  It has stifled my ability to get involved.  For the thought of getting caught out and reveal my true stupidity; creates waves of panic, that happen right here, behind closed doors.  I am like that TV series, 'The Littlest Hobo'.  I enter the world of others, try to make them laugh and smile.  Then, like the littlest hobo, I move on.  Familiarity scares the hell out of me.
I sit here alone, night after relentless night.  The battle rages on.  This bizarre double life of mine is confusing and complex.  If you saw me on the street, you would see a cheerful and pleasant man.  If you saw me as I am right now, you would see a paranoid recluse.  It is time for me to breathe.  I shall focus on all that makes me grateful to be alive.
My garden is a statement of peaceful defiance.  As my garden was transformed to a world of great beauty; so too will my life be recreated  through the power of hope.

It is very early on a Friday morning.  All is peaceful.  I look out my living room window and find reassuring comfort from the glowing solar lamps.   Soon the sun will rise and the new dawn will provide fresh desire to live a better life.

'Pee Wee Folks League'

So I told my doctor that I was having trouble sleeping.  'What can I do doctor?'  'I think this might work, Gary.  Watch snooker.'

Now I've watched some snooker and I think it can be extremely boring.  Sorry, I fell asleep..where was I?  Oh yes.... They need to liven it up.  Get rid of the bow tie and the vest.  Get the players to dress up in clown suits and have a bunch of cheerleaders revving up the crowd to the sounds of 'Celebration' by 'Kool and the Gang'.

Here are some more 'sports'.  'Polo', not to be mistaken for candy mints, a type of Volkswagen, a shirt, or, for that matter, 'Marco Polo', buddy of 'Kublai Khan'.  No, I'm referring to the 'sport' that involves a bunch of people riding around on horses they call ponies.  The aim of the game is for these folks to ride around on said horses, sorry, polo ponies and bang along a wooden ball with a bamboo mallet in hopes of placing said ball past two goal posts that are placed 24 feet apart.  Fascinating eh what?  

It should be noted that there is an aquatic version of this game.  It is called 'water polo'.  There are some slight variations in the rules.  In the water polo version of the game, a large ball is thrown at a small goal in hopes of getting the large ball past the goalkeeper.  The players ride around on 'seahorses' which are actually known as 'water polo ponies'.

Then there's 'cricket'.  This must not be confused with an insect that is closely related to a grasshopper.  It has nothing to do with that top hat loving, umbrella carrying cartoon character, 'Jiminy Cricket', who had an obsession with the 'E-n-c-y-c-l-o-p-e-d-i-a'.  And it most definitely has nothing to do with a disposable lighter.  No, this is a sport I couldn't even begin to explain.  What I can tell you is that they have something called 'test' cricket which can last five days or five years.  I have heard such statements regarding cricket like 'It's raining, old chap, you lose.'  Here are three cricket sporting terms.  A'googly'; 'a maiden over' and a 'sticky wicket'.

Ice hockey is a rough, tough sport.  Ice hockey is to Canada what 'soccer' , whoops football, is to Britain.  Yes, I know, I once went to a fight and a ice hockey game broke out.

The 'wee folks' and some of their little friends wanted to have a go at some North American sports.  They tried 'gridiron' which is also known as Canadian or American 'football'.  

Now some people might say that North American football is glorified rugby for wimps.  I really don't think that's the type or remark you tell a 280 lb.(20 stone) linebacker after his team has just lost on the final play of the game.

The 'wee folks' wanted to try playing baseball.  They had heard that in North America they have 'Pee Wee Leagues'.  Hopefully, they can get some teams together and form the 'Pee Wee Folks League'.

Party Time In Britain.

I've been hearing a lot about parties in Britain.  Especially over the last couple of months.  There's been a lot of media frenzy over the various parties that want to get my attention.
I have lots of parties to choose from.  Here are a few that I've noted.  There's the 'Labour Party'.  Apparently, it's a bunch of folks who like to get together in the maternity ward of the local hospital and talk about the merits of hard work.  Then there's the 'Conservative Party'.  I'm not so sure I would want to go to a party where everyone wears stuffy clothing and are very reluctant to have a bit of a laugh.  Another alternative might be to check out the 'Liberal Democrat Party'.  Now that might be fun because at that party they evidently have a very generous host who believes in social equality.  I've also heard mention of the 'UKIP' Party'.  Now that sounds like a very boring time.  I have lived in Britain long enough to know that 'kip' means sleep.
There is a long list of parties on offer.  Here are just two more.  'The Raving Monster Loony Party'  Ah yes, now that's more like it.  'The BNP Party'.  'BNP', from what I gather, means, 'Bigoted Nonsense Party'.  That is one party I will most definitely not be attending.
Fair enough, the above paragraph was kind of silly bordering on the ridiculous.  So I might as well continue.  There is indeed going to be a 'General Election' in Britain on the 6th of May. When I tell you 'General' I do not mean that we are voting for a General.  So all the different parties are trying to convince me to vote for them.  During the election campaign I have heard various words and phrases that have left me confused and bewildered.  In Britain they have 'Shadow Cabinets and Ministers'.  People can be referred to as, 'floating voters'.  I'm a bit, 'up in the air', in regards to what that means.  I've even heard the expression, 'hung parliament'.  I then got to thinking if you have a hung parliament, can you have a 'well-hung' parliament?  The tabloids could have a field day with that one.
I have been duly informed that within the 'Houses of Parliament', they have a bit of situation that involves a 'Black Rod', a 'Chief Whip' and a 'Woolsack'.  In fact, the Black Rod is handled by the 'Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod'.  Hey, whatever!
The current British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, (so legendary that the rock band, 'The Stranglers', did a song about him), waits anxiously for the outcome of the General Election on the 6th of May.  Yes, it's party time in Britain.  I wonder what the floating voters think about a hung parliament?  

Even the 'wee folks' seem to be caught up in all this talk about parties.  They asked if I would post back up the photograph of them and their party.  'The Wee Folks Party'.  Hey, they have my vote.