I’m feeling conflicted. On one hand, I love this time of year and the multitude of harvest festivals, hay rides and haunted houses celebrating the bounty of life-in-the-country good times. On the other hand, I’m dreading winter, knowing there will be days of feeling isolated and cut off from the outside world.
In My Humble Opinion
The term “déjà vu” is French and literally means “already seen.” Those who have experienced the feeling (up to 70% of the population) describe it as “an overwhelming sense of familiarity” and (according to www.howstuffworks.com), the phenomenon is “rather complex.” Swiss scholar Arthur Funkhouser sugges
I’m absolutely positive that Arthur Fletcher did not have me in mind when he coined that phrase while serving as head of the United Negro College Fund in 1973, but that is approximately the same time that my mind became mush.
The past few days have been thought provoking, to say the least. Multiple visits to the doctor for both me and the Wonder Dog were on the docket, and while I’m all for conventional medicine, a part of me also believes that “alternative” forms of treatment might be just as beneficial. And then there are days when I’m not sure what I believe.
Believe me, I’m in no rush to see summer end—but fall is coming, whether I like it or not. Officially, it ain’t over till the fat lady sings, and that won’t occur until the 22nd of this month, but we all know that Labor Day is the beginning (insert frownie-face emoji here) of the end.
For something completely different, synchronicity reigned supreme last week as Hurleyville, NY crept into my psyche on more than one occasion.
As a general rule, working on the weekend is okay, I suppose, but every once in a while, it’s inconvenient.
I had difficulty determining whether that phrase is an idiom or a proverb, but since an idiom can “often be misunderstood from the meanings of its individual words,” while a proverb is a “short popular saying expressing belief that is generally thought to be true” (www.wikipedia.com) I’m going with proverb.
And if running around at breakneck speed last week didn’t kill me, nothing will. “You do it to yourself,” my shrink said. “Nobody is holding a gun to your head.” She’s right of course, I’m just not sure that I know how to do it any other way.
Wow, man. Between the never-ending rain and the plethora of events in the Upper Delaware River region, July has come and gone.