And I seem to remember that I was tagged a long time ago about something and I forgot to get to it so even though several days have past I will attend to this one. Just warning you, Dear Reader, I was never good at assignments.
Oh maybe for one or two, here and there when I was going to turn over a new leaf, but it never lasted long. I did them, but it was never a pretty process, never tidy, never a good attitude, much flopping and flipping like a goldfish on the floor. They were always too hard or too easy. What I wanted to do but need more time or what I didn’t want to do and was wasting my time.
You might surmise that when it comes to assignments my name is Mary. Mary Contrary. Even if I were to make the assignment I would find fault with it, probably larger fault than an assignment by anyone else.
Ethel did this to me but I am not going to send you there as she is taking a retreat for a while and I do not want to be anywhere near any supposed pressure for her to surface from her time off too soon. So I will send you there for some other reason when she is up and at ’em Atom Ant again.
And I must say that now with what you know, Dear Reader, giving me an assignment like this is not what I would consider loving or even polite. I excuse Ethel because dear that she is, she had no idea. And of course I know I could easily have blown her off, either by “forgetting” like I did the last time or by going ridiculously over the top like I did once before when tagged.
I guess what I am saying is, now that you know this about me Dear Reader, you cannot in good conscience tag me for an assigned writing endeavor. don’t you think that would be pushing our friendship just a little if you did that now that you know what shear torture it is for me? I thought you would see it my way.
So what was I tagged with? Well as much as I can surmise it is to list ten things. Ten things apparently that “I love”. (I wonder if it could be admire or appreciate or if it has to be love.) It appears that we are stuck with the letter “W.” (and is it Love love or more like like love?) I’m thinking I cannot even come up with ten things that start with the letter “W”.
Well I could start off with my state, Washington, but with my recent noticeable tirade about moving to a place with weather like most of you are having and hate, would any of you swallow that one?
As far as that other Washington, well right now you know I think the majority of its inhabitants smell worse than Limburger cheese so you would schmerck at the drippy sentimentality of that wouldn’t you?
You also know by now Dirt’s real name so I cannot pretend his name really is Wilford Brimley and that he eats oatmeal.
And even though my favorite saying from my father is: “If a job is once begun, never leave it till it’s done, be the labor great or small do it well or not at all, ” to which I added for my children: ” Whether you do all or part, do it with a happy heart,” all that added to the idea that Dirt and I do not look at work as drudgery I certainly cannot say that I love to work or do the wash. whether it is washing dishes and having a clean kitchen or doing laundry in my Wash House and having beautiful folded piles of tantalizing colors, fresh and bright.
What’s left, I can’t think of anymore W’s? Women, there is a w for sure but what would you think of me if I said that, I can hear at least one Dear Reader, who never identifies himself by commenting, who would be rolling out of his chair with guffaws at the jokes he would then get to tell. Ya, I’m not giving him that ammo even though I really do appreciate women, womanhood and enjoy having been a woman all these years.
Ooh this is not going well at all I have come up with five, or six if you divide work and wash, of w’s I cannot use and have yet to come up with one that I can put on the “I love” list.
Weasels, (thought of them just now as I was debating if I should weasel out of this, I could come down with a horrid disease and not be able to continue) who in their right mind would like weasels? Even pretend weasels are not usually a lovely thing now are they? Unless of course some one were to give me a coat made of weasel killed in the winter, now I could love that but then it wouldn’t really be a “w” thing because no one calls them weasels then, then they are called ermine and we forget what they are really like, egg sucking evil things. So no, ermine or weasel will not work here either.
I’m feeling a little goldfishy here. I didn’t mean to. I surely meant to take this like a woman. Just roll up my sleeves and do it, but heck I can’t even say I like weather because once again you, Dear Reader, would call fowl on my declaration of love for weather. You know that that would have to be qualified as “remarkable” weather not just weather. That would be like saying I like children when really I only like remarkable children so I can not say I like children when most of them are like small dogs, annoying unless they have a personality or clever trick. So no, I could only say I like weather if it is wild.
Ah Eureka! Wild Weather. I love Wild Weather! Which is not to say I like everything wild because I just explained that I do not when I told you I do not like wild weasels that suck out eggs and kill chickens
But along with Wild Weather I love the Wild West! It was such a time of history, such a remarkable time and yet so short. I wish in someways we still lived by Wild West rules, in wild west buildings with bare wood floors and tall ceilings and rode horses that are tied to the hitching rail out front.
Rough and dangerous for sure, heartbreaking and crushing but alive. Not mambee pambee effeminate man hating modern west, with men wearing pink shirts and special socks with sandals and calling it hip and cool. A place where men could respect a chick like Annie Oakley but not every chick had to be an Annie to be respected. Where real men punched other men for speaking carelessly in front of a woman.
So yes, I do believe that unequivocally I love the Wild West. I would gladly throw myself in a time machine dialed for eighteen-eighty-four, anywhere in the west, maybe all over the west on my palomino with my buckskin trailing behind. Or maybe I would dial it back a little farther so I would not run the risk of being in caught in the effeminating modern west.
So where am I?:
1. Wild Weather
2. Wild West
3.
Bother I am stuck again. I just now thought of windows. To love windows. Well it is nice to be able to see outside but not necessarily be outside. But then if you love windows one would also then have to love the care of said windows. And I don’t. So windows is not in concideration.
Will I have to get out the dictionary? I can’t even think of “w” words let alone things that could be loveable and “w”.
I’m not anti morning but I only occasionally embrace morning so “I love waking up” would not work.
Vikings are in my heads only pronounced like Dirt’s grandma Alma would pronounce it Wiking. does that count? Let me know if that is cheating cause I will use it otherwise.
I could say Wisconsin or Wyoming but I’ve really never been to either state before and just because I love the idea of the state from descriptions and story books, I think to say I love the state would be, well, wrong.
Sacajawea this is hard.
I gotta go to sleep, I have a Dr. appt in the stinking morning, wakey wakey. But I need a post for today/yesterday so I am going to post this and get back to you on the next eight things of “W”ness that I can honestly say I love. Hey Ethel, I hope that break is doing good for you.
Dear Reader, until we speak again, right next to time spent with God all day (not just in the morning), have fun all day.
