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AMY SMITH LINTON

Nostalgic Talky Talk

2/22/2021

6 Comments

 
Oldgeezering: the tendency of anyone over the age of 20 to start reminiscing about how the world has changed.

​Identify by use of temporal phrases like "when I was a kid," "back in the day," "nowadays."

Also, Proustian locational references: "the video arcade," "my grandfather's farm," "the five-and-dime."
Picture
Oldgeezering in practice:

When I was a kid, my dad used to drag us around behind a boat in pretty much anything that floated. Once it was a wide mahogany door: hard to grip –– and there must have been some additional flotation, right? Huh. It's all blur of water up the nose.
    
The safety rules were few but iron-clad: lifejackets for all kids and somebody was charged to act as spotter. NEVER take eyes off your mark. 

I guess I was spotting for cousin B in this picture.

Check out that flex. Daddo looks mighty buff; always with the Ray-Bans, the cigarette (gasoline canisters be danged!) and the bottle of beer.  

Kids these days –– they don't even.  

6 Comments

Music and dance

2/17/2021

6 Comments

 
Can anyone argue that humans come with music and dance already pre-loaded?
Caveat clictor.

Oops, I did it again...Not actually sorry if you did click on "Baby Shark doo-doo-doo..."  

Settle down, go on, do...I have a handful of consolation tracks.

Palate cleansers if you will. 

​Do a little dance.
6 Comments

Hey Ho, a Pirate's Life for Me

2/5/2021

2 Comments

 
Working. Sigh.

Every once and a while, someone will announce to me that it's cruel to make horses pull carriages, run around a race-track, jump obstacles.


These same people –– so far! –– will NOT agree with me when I suggest that throwing a tennis ball over and over is torture for dogs.

They are quick to assure me that, no! no! fetching is a game!

Sure it is.

Tell that to your average retriever. 

via GIPHY

Somehow the very idea of work get the stink eye ––  golly, we wouldn't even wish it on our animal friends. The same animal buddies whose stalwart character and skills we've selected for across hundreds of generations.

But did any of us evolve all these years find our joy while melting into the upholstery?  Add a bag of chips and a winning Lotto ticket, et voilá!  The American Dream nirvana!

I don't mean to rant. Or actually I do. I just don't want to glaze anyone's eyes for them. Save the anesthetized stare for the third season of whatever's streaming today. Grrr.

What kind of malarkey are we putting on toast?

I'm not above it, truly. Work can suck.

Carriage horses sometimes die of heat exhaustion. Racehorses twist an elegant ankle and are seen no more on green pastures. 
Picture
But can a person deny a horse the joy of running? The snarfling satisfaction of a well-fetched stick? The sweaty pleasure of that last log split and stacked? 
2 Comments

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