Bill Roper's Journal

I was sitting downstairs chatting with Gretchen before heading back up to work after lunch. She asked me to please throw the ball for Ruby the Dog before I left, so I picked up the ball, let Ruby out and gave the ball a toss. Closing the door to keep the cold out, I observed that the dog had now obtained the ball and had settled in to pee. "Or possibly pooping," I added.

I then went on to posit that "Possibly Pooping" sounds like a TV sitcom starring a young nurse working in the GI department at a major urban hospital. Gretchen responded that it caused her to think of the CSN song, "Helplessly Hoping". And I immediately responded.

Possibly pooping,
The bedpan is sitting nearby
Awaiting a turd.

And Gretchen said that I could stop now...

This is what happens when you spend too much time listening to the classic rock station.

I hate myself for loving stew.
It's the least of the things you can chew.
Tuck into a bowl of gray goo.
I hate myself for loving stew.

This is what happens when Gretchen and I have not had enough sleep, it seems. :)

(And you'll probably suss out the tune in a moment.)

I don't want a ham for Christmas, I don't want a roast to sear.
I don't want a big old turkey that will last until New Year.
I want something that is hot,
Slowly simmering in a pot.
Something I can chew.
All I want for Christmas is stew.

As has been our habit the last few years, we headed down to Lisle for the Eyes to the Skies festival for music and fireworks. The girls had fun watching various shows in the kids' area before we went across to hear the Chicago Tribute Authority and American English. Seating was being a bit problematic by the time I went in that direction, because there were some folks who had placed enormous tarps to reserve seating who then didn't show up until after 8 PM, which seems like a bit of abusing the privilege. But we managed to find some seats on a slope that was not impossible for Gretchen to navigate, so things worked out.

One of the shows that the girls saw included Cinderella, Spider-Man, and Captain America. This resulted in me being asked to sing the Captain America theme from the mid-60s Marvel cartoons with the really limited animation.

When Captain America throws his mighty shield
All those who chose to oppose his shield must yield.
For the red and the white and the white and the blue
And the red and the white and the blue will come through
When Captain America throws his mighty shield!

Ok, it wasn't great music. And it was the best of those themes.

But the music was good and the fireworks were splendid, with a rather eclectic selection of music, culminating in a bit of the 1812 Overture, which is one of those traditional pieces for fireworks. :)

Standing in the very slow line waiting for the bus back to where we were parked, I was briefly "inspired" by one of the pieces that had been used to accompany the fireworks, Neil Diamond's Coming to America. And I essayed the following to Gretchen:

Fighting Hydra round the world,
He's Captain America!
Everywhere his shield is hurled,
He's Captain America!
He's Captain America!
He's Captain America!
OK!

Well, she didn't hit me. :)

But despite some occasional whining from Katie and Julie, a good time was had by all. (Whining is, sadly, an occupational hazard...)

If I had a goat
I'd take him down to Wrigley.
And if they let me in there,
We'd walk upon the field.
And we would all together
Sit down in the dugout,
Me, and Mr. Ricketts, and my goat.

In honor of telynor's doggerel day, another children's poem along the lines of Uncle Fred.

See them shambling down the street,
Moving slowly, not so neat.
I'm now quite sure that they're insane.
They say they want to eat my brain.
Zombies used to come from voodoo,
A fine old choice of mystic hoodoo.
Then the movies took them over.
Oh, my dear! They've gotten Rover!