Barbara, over at Teleportingweena, posted 26 short questions that I thought were fun, so I decided to spend a few minutes taking them on. Are you ready?
- Share your profile picture. Okay, you’ve seen it probably every time you visit my blog, but here it is again.
- Who are you named after? I’m named after my grandfather, Fandango The First.
- Do you like your handwriting? I used to have great handwriting, but now that I’ve gotten older, it’s become virtually illegible, so no.
- What’s your favorite lunchmeat Tuna fish. And yes, I know that tuna is technically not meat, but it’s my favorite lunch sandwich.
- Longest relationship? My wife and I just celebrated our 40th anniversary.
- Do you still have your tonsils? Yes. And my appendix, too.
- Would you bungee jump? Not a chance.
- Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Yes, of course. Doesn’t everyone?
- Favorite ice-cream? Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream from Ben & Jerry’s.
- What’s the first thing you notice about people? At the risk of sounding sexist, their gender. Then their eyes.
- Football or baseball? Baseball during the baseball season and football during the football season.
- What color pants are you wearing? Since I always wear jeans, blue.
- Last thing you ate? Pizza.
- If you were a crayon what color would you be? I don’t know. Red? Blue? Green?
- Favorite smell? Bacon, which I rarely eat. (I was going to say my own farts, but, ew.)
- Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? I don’t remember. I hardly ever speak on the phone. The last person I texted, though, was my daughter.
- Hair color? What color is bald? But my beard is gray.
- Eye color? Blue. Those are my eyes at the header of this post.
- Favorite food to eat? Chesapeake Bay Blue Crabs.
- Scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies with happy endings. Actually, comedies.
- Last movie you watched? “Active Measures.”
- Favorite holiday? Trump Impeachment Day.
- Beer or wine? Beer. Wine gives me acid reflux.
- Favorite day of the week? I’m retired, so every day is pretty much the same.
- Three or (four) favorite bloggers you want to learn more about? Any blogger who takes the time to answer these first 25 questions. That will tell me what I want to learn about them.
- Added info you didn’t know you wanted. How do I know what info I didn’t know I wanted? If I knew how to answer this question, then, by definition, I knew I wanted it.
If any of you bloggers out there feel like taking on these 26 questions, feel free to copy and paste the questions and insert your own answers. Or you can use my answers. I don’t mind.
I am sure it was not intentional. These things happen. A case of mistaken identity, I suppose.
What am I talking about, you ask? Well, it seems that a blogger and poet who goes by the name of Mws R has somehow come to the conclusion that I, Fandango, am someone capable of performing random acts of kindness. As a result, she nominated me for something she calls the Random Acts of Kindness Award.According to Mws R, this is “an award to give to another for their kindness or what they unselfishly give to others.” The problem is that (1) I’m not the kind of person who does random acts, and (2) I’m not known for my kindness. So there must have been some mistake.
As part of this award process, I’m supposed to “share a paragraph of something that impacted your own life in the way of receiving kindness or how you extended kindness to someone else.”
Oh jeez. Is stopping at a crosswalk while in my car to avoid hitting an old lady on crutches a random act of kindness? Or is it just a means for avoiding a felony charge for manslaughter?
Oh wait. I know of two acts of kindness. The first was when we took in and gave a home to a stray cat. And the second was when we adopted a rescue dog from a kill shelter and provided it with a loving home.
Of course, these were really more acts of kindness on the part of my wife, but we’re life partners, right? So I’m going to, for the purpose of this post, take full credit.
Next, I’m supposed to “nominate anyone or to share your own page.” I’m sharing this page and suggesting that anyone who has either performed a random act of kindness or has been the recipient of one should feel free to share your own story.
My wife asked me today what I wanted for lunch. I said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll fix myself a tuna fish sandwich.” And when I heard myself say that, I wondered why I always say “tuna fish sandwich” and not just “tuna sandwich.”
I can’t think of any other variety of fish where, when you refer to it, you add the word “fish” after the name of the fish. Well, yes, there’s swordfish and catfish, but that’s because the names of those fish include the word “fish.” But tuna doesn’t.
Think of any other fish we catch and eat. Salmon, trout, cod, perch, bass, mackerel, sardines, mahi mahi, herring, flounder, sole, snapper, grouper, tilapia, halibut. You just don’t add the word “fish” when you talk about any of those, do you?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one who says “tuna fish” and not just “tuna.”
Help me out here. Do any of you say “tuna fish” if you’re talking about a sandwich made with that fish? Or do you simply ask for a “tuna sandwich”?
“Hand with Reflecting Sphere,” also known as “Self-Portrait in Spherical Mirror,” is a lithograph print by Dutch artist M. C. Escher, first printed in January 1935.
Posted for today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt, “reflection.”
For today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, Linda G. Hill has asked us to “talk about an organ or base your post on the theme of them…or one.”
Okay, I’ve got to get my mind out of the gutter. I have to admit that the first thing that came to mind was sex organ. But since this a PG-rated blog, I decided to think of other types of organs, like internal organs. You know, livers, kidneys, lungs, hearts (although some might argue that the heart is a muscle and not an organ).
And then I thought about mouth organs, like harmonicas or melodicas. Or pipe organs like you might find in churches. Or calliopes (steam organs) that you might find at circuses or carnivals.
And there are electronic organs and these days even digital organs.
But to my mind, there’s nothing like the organ grinder. No, not the kind you find in a butcher shop to make to make chopped liver. The organ grinder I’m thinking about was an entertainer who played a barrel organ in the streets back in the 19th century and the early part of the 20th century. You often found them with little monkeys that were trained to dance around to the sounds coming from the organ.
And that, in a true stream of consciousness mode, led me to the old song by Donovan, “The Hurdy Gurdy Man.”