Tag Archives: Jackson Pollock

Chaos Weary

7 Sep
Time management matrix as described in Merrill...

Image via Wikipedia

Write post answer comments visit readers’ blogs clean the house walk the dogs make meals declutter the house declutter my head look after family write a haiku a day for thirty days post that haiku answer comments on other blog visit readers’ blogs on other blog walk the dogs oops did that already enter free competitions update task list do some tasks look after family oops did that already type up over one hundred poems print out over one hundred poems plus copies to go in notebooks write post oops did that already

Yes, I have a life exactly like yours.

I think Jackson Pollock says it best:

Time For Some Housekeeping

10 Feb
Action painting - own work. Somewhat similar t...

Image via Wikipedia

Well, not housekeeping so much as disparate items under an irrelevant title.  I won’t be housekeeping for a while because the dust bunnies are using the Hub’s million printers as ramparts. 

You see: there’s always a silver lining. 


Like Phoebe’s Central Perk moment in Friends – ‘I just got that!’ – I just got what tent suppliers in marriage was after: someone was looking for a marquee for their wedding.  Or maybe a marquis?  A duke would be nice but a baron’s no good: you could never fit a couple of hundred guests in a baron. 

I accidentally typed ‘barn’, which is ridiculous: of course you can fit a couple of hundred guests in a barn.  But you have to ask the farmer first.


On Freecycle/Freegle/RealCycle: I love it, not least because it gives me the chance to get rid of the Hub’s junk and save the planet at the same time.  But not when you get greedy people like the person yesterday who asked for a widescreen tv because the last one they got off Freecycle just broke – MUST be working with remote and in good, clean condition.  Oh, and by the way: can you deliver? 

That last one gives me the chance to re-hash for my newer readers this genuine Freecycle post that came to my inbox a couple of years ago:

Offered: One child.  

Seems they’d pressed ‘enter’ too quickly because what they meant to offer was one child’s bicycle.  I swear that’s true (are you listening, earlybird?).


Buy The Book (2): I didn’t forget to post it yesterday; my friend asked me to hold off for a couple of days while she sorts something out. It’s in my draft box, ready to explode on to your screens like an alien in John Hurt.


I always confuse John Hurt and John Heard.  One played Caligula and Olivander and the other a dirty cop in The Sopranos and the founder of the KKK.  One is English and one American.  One got fat, one didn’t.  One played a homosexual and the other didn’t stay home alone.  Then there’s that actor in the film about the thing, who has a similar sounding name as well.  You know who I mean…hang on, let me Google him…

John Savage. He was in The Amateur. Okay, only his first name is a little similar but I heard that a savage can hurt one; I heard that one savage can hurt a herd; and I heard that one herd can hurt a savage, so you understand my understandable confusion. 


As this blog post is turning into one big jumbled mess, I thought you’d enjoy a Jackson Pollock as illustration (see above).

If you want to know more about Jackson Pollock, don’t read this blog post.  If you want to know more about gravy browning, do.

That’s just my way of taking your mind off the terrible mess I’m making today. Governments do the same thing, only they call them ‘wars’.


I can’t end on a political note so here’s a joke:

A policeman parked his police van in front of the station; while gathering his equipment, his K-9 partner Tops was barking, and he saw a little boy staring in at him.  “Is that a dog you got back there?” the boy asked. “It sure is,” the policeman replied. Puzzled, the boy looked at him and towards the back of the van.

Finally he asked, “What did he do?”

Stop groaning.  I never said it was a good joke.

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

I Wish I’d Remembered To Tighten The Bottle Cap Before I Shook The Gravy Browning

27 Mar

Early onset of dementia or a lifetime habit of doziness?  You decide. 

I keep doing little jobs like bringing in a cup of tea or turning on the dishwasher, then realising I have no memory of it happening.  How weird is that?  I peeled an apple for the gerbil then threw it in the bin (the apple, not the gerbil; but you are wise to ask).   I’d like to think it’s because my head is in the poetic clouds forming literary masterpieces but the truth is my head is more often in the prosaic clouds forming questions like, ‘Will it rain if I hang out the washing?’

I am only 46 so I suspect it’s not really dementia; which leaves me with the conclusion that I am perennially dozy and I need a project to focus my mind.  I miss studying.  I think this particular behaviour has only manifested itself since I finished my degree and it will go away again if I have something to do.*

*Now to contradict myself:

By the way, the incident of the title happened when we were first married and was a joint effort – I forgot to tighten the cap of the bottle before I gave it to the Hub to shake.  Our kitchen walls looked like something Jackson Pollock might have painted when he was having a funny tummy day.



People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it.  Anonymous.

People who say it should not be done have obviously just come across their first Jackson Pollock painting.  Tilly Bud.

Thinking about it, it is early onset of dementia: I got married at twenty-one – how crazy is that?  The Hub was twenty – Tory Boy’s almost-age.  No wonder my mother went nuts. 

Ahh, that explains everything: it’s genetic.  If you want evidence, just listen to what my boys did this week:  Spud Bud was playing football and scored a hat trick.  His celebration was to slide along the ground on his knees.  Trouble is, he forgot he was playing on astroturf… <wince>.

Tory Boy was invited to a party where he didn’t know anyone except his flatmate.  Tory Boy wore his favourite granddad shirt, similar to this one:

From: http://images.google.co.uk/ 

He got funny looks all night and he couldn’t help wondering if it was because he was the only non-Indian there.  Finally, his Indian flatmate took him to one side to ask him if he had worn the Nehru shirt to try to fit in, because it really wasn’t necessary and could even be considered a little patronising…

From: http://images.google.co.uk/ 

Fortunately, everyone saw the funny side once TB explained, and it was a good icebreaker.  But it just goes to show

  1. No matter what our background, we are all the same, really.
  2. Dopey is as dopey does.
  3. I have bad genes and my children are paying for it.
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