The Sun Rising by John Donne

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”

She’s all states, and all princes I;
Nothing else is;
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

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bedtime reading

My asthma’s been acting up lately.

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Hi Mum,
I thought you might like to see the roses I picked today. 🙂
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martinis, the dirty kind

The Marina Del Rey Cheesecake Factory is entirely to blame for my current addiction. It was there on a dark and stormy night* last December where I first experienced the exquisite martini made dirty by blue cheese stuffed olives.

Never had I expected to consider any other martini but the classic:  Gin or vodka and vermouth, several pristine olives, preferably green queens, marinating in the crystal liquid.

Dirty martinis were an aberration, muddying what nature intended as sparkling and pure. The riff raft who ordered them were the very same vulgarians who call anything added to vodka in a stem glass a martini – lemon drop “martinis”, espresso “martinis”, for the tea lovers Earl Grey “martinis.”

Maybe it was the 2-hour wait to deboard at LAX, navigating the chaotic terminal, something changed.  My normally rigid requirements loosened.

Soon enough, there it was.  Through the murky interior, 3 large green olives nestled inside the frosted glass. And I knew I had been waiting all my life for this deliciously sublime experience.

* Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford

pop out those pimentos or treat yourself to pitted olives from the deli bar


shaken not stirred


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Predicting the Future

Notice the message bottom of screen appearing when Patriots were on the 25 yard line, BEFORE they won the game with a touchdown.


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It’s freezing in here.

Heritage buildings may not be known for their cozy interiors when it’s cold outside.

Sitting, working, freezing.

Those who shake my hand are freeze dried, frozen upright.

Odd that people I’ve known for years, who never cared to touch me in any way are reaching out, needing to make contact.

They chill. A subtle tremor is evident.

And they are thinking, I’ve known her all these years and I had no idea she was so Brrrrr cold.

It would probably go better if I shut the window.

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American friends, …you crazy undecideds, It’s Decision Time


Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton Final presidential debate on October 19,2016.

Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton Final presidential debate on October 19,2016.



I don’t like the look of that.


My prediction: Hillary Clinton by a landslide
but I’ve been wrong before

Alec Baldwin, Kate McKinnon, you’ve been wonderful.


Saturday Night Live

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