Thursday, September 30, 2010

Still Missing Journal Space

I know, I know JS is a thing of the past, but I still miss you guy’s. I have found some of you though other people’s blogs and so on, but many of the blogs I followed disappeared into the ether. Today I have been cruising through some blogs touching down and drinking in thoughts and ideas, running my fingers over the textures of your lives and it occurs to me that I miss you all. Those of you who stood on the virtual street corner and shouted your belief system to the heavens, the story tellers and wonders, and especially all who saw the funny side of life.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010


I love older books and newer books whose author’s use words and expressions I have never heard or do not know. Today I was listening again to, “The Hollow,” by Agatha Christie and a character referred to his boss as a tuft-hunter. Intrigued I hopped on Yahoo search and began to research it and this is what I found. First many websites with the same definition, “A nobleman's toady; one who tries to curry favour with the wealthy and great for the sake of feeding on the crumbs which fall from the rich man's table. A University term,” from Another website added that such men often had cap decorated with gold tufts. Second I found a witty poem by Thomas Moore, “Epitaph on a Tuft-Hunter,” on . Finally I found out that although Thomas Moore lived a great deal of his life among titled families he himself was a common man contrary to some vague idea I had was never given a title.

Epitaph On A Tuft-Hunter
Thomas Moore
Lament, lament, Sir Isaac Heard,
Put mourning round thy page, Debrett,
For here lies one who ne'er preferred
A Viscount to a Marquis yet.
Beside him place the God of Wit,
Before him Beauty's rosiest girls,
Apollo for a _star_ he'd quit,
And Love's own sister for an Earl's.
Did niggard fate no peers afford,
He took of course to peers' relations;
And rather than not sport a Lord
Put up with even the last creations;
Even Irish names could he but tag 'em
With "Lord" and "Duke," were sweet to call;
And at a pinch Lord Ballyraggum
Was better than no Lord at all.
Heaven grant him now some noble nook,
For rest his soul! he'd rather be
Genteelly damned beside a Duke,
Than saved in vulgar company.

an excessively parsimonious, miserly, or stingy person.

niggardly; miserly; stingy.

1325–75; ME nyggard, equiv. to nig niggard (< Scand; cf. dial. Sw nygg; akin to OE hnÄ“aw stingy) + -ard

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Gray Kitty

OK let's face it the hair is gray;and although at least one of my sisters claim that my roots are really blond, they where brown. A really nice sable actually when I was in my twenties, but as my hair began to become more and more gray the brown faded to an unsatisfactory mousy medium brown of no distinction. Now it is predominately silvery gray, and dye resistant. May I present the GRAY CAT}:P