That beautiful sun is on hiatus, and the last couple of days have been cloudy. Last night it rained. The oak tree by the driveway has only one branch left with any leaves. All the rest of the leaves have fallen and completely covered my driveway. The wind is blowing the bare branches and the day is completely uninviting. I have this vision of me in the living room on my chaise lounge listening to Hawaiian music and wearing something flowered while I drink out of a coconut with a small colorful umbrella and a cherry on a stick that looks like a little sword.
Why toast in the morning? I wondered that the other day when I had a couple of pieces. In the afternoon most of the bread for my sandwiches is seldom toasted. Club sandwiches, when I go out for lunch, usually are but the simple bologna sandwich almost never is. I suppose any sandwich bread can be toasted, but it just doesn’t seem to happen. Egg salad would seem a likely choice connected as the egg is with breakfast, but I never see a toasted egg salad sandwich. Toast is something to ponder I suppose.
Pajamas also make me wonder. Who decided that we have to wear different clothes at night than in the daytime? I wear a t-shirt to bed all year round, but when I was a kid I wore pajamas, never a nightgown because nightgowns ride up and make uncomfortable lumps while you’re sleeping.
I wish I knew why some things are called what they are. A mixer is an easy one because that’s what it does, but who named soap? I used to tell people that some old lady in Hoboken, New Jersey was the wordmaster for the US, sort of like a poet laureate for words. Anything new comes along, and she gets a call. “What’ll we name it?” She thinks about it a while weighing what the thing does then she triumphantly coins a new word like a sort of baptism. That’s it-print the dictionary.
Okay, today is a hodge-podge, a gallimaufry, a jumbled mixture of what sometimes runs through my head. At least it keeps me entertained.
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