Stuff that wanders through my head
I wonder if the biker (bicycle not motorcycle) with the purple helmet ever looked in the mirror and noticed that the helmet looked like nothing but a big ole raisin smack dab on his head.
I wonder why the woman in the line in front of me at the grocery store had to have everything laid flat on the belt and got all pickled face when he daughter placed a small container of strawberries on top of the cereal box. Maybe it's some kind of knew flat grocery religion. Or maybe she never grew out of the idea that food can't touch even if it is still safe within its box.
I wonder if the husband ment what he said or only said it to see if I was listening. We were outside of HOme Depot and he spotted some generators. He murmured something about getting one for the house for the next time the power went out and then wondered if they were gas powered or electric.
I wonder what's behind that fierce concentration of Rocco's when he tried to uh um 'date' his stuffed gorilla. He's certainly working hard at making her his. No one asked her what she feels about his intentions.
I wonder if, when you die, do you know it's coming or is it one minute you're alive and the next, blammo, in a whole new plane of existance.
I wonder if my mother will meet me when I do finally cross over. god I hope not. I can't see me spending eternity still displeasing her.
I wonder if the husband's business will ever be a success.
I wonder where the two canadian geese who I call The Commuters because they fly over the house in the same path, the same time each day, are going. ANd aren't they back here a little early. It is only February after all.
I wonder how the husband would feel if I actually told him how I feel about my birthday always being ignored. Oh I'm asked what I want and if I dare say I don't know... well,,, I get nothing. I brush it off and pretend it doesn't matter but a murmured happy birthday would be nice.
I wonder if, when I die any one will read my journals.
I wonder why a plumber feels the need to announce that he makes house calls on his sign. Of course he makes house calls. I can't see me dragging my toilet down the street when I need it repaired.
I wonder just how dumb a box of bricks are and if Rocco is really dumber than one. Box, not brick.
I wonder if the muslim god really wants his followers so fanatic that they riot over a caracture of him and if he does, he shoudl really get over it.
I wonder how much wood a wood chuck could chuck and just just how the heck one would chuck if one wished to.
I wonder why dogs eat cat poop but cats don't eat dog poop.
I wonder why I wonder these things and how to shut my head up.
I wonder why the woman in the line in front of me at the grocery store had to have everything laid flat on the belt and got all pickled face when he daughter placed a small container of strawberries on top of the cereal box. Maybe it's some kind of knew flat grocery religion. Or maybe she never grew out of the idea that food can't touch even if it is still safe within its box.
I wonder if the husband ment what he said or only said it to see if I was listening. We were outside of HOme Depot and he spotted some generators. He murmured something about getting one for the house for the next time the power went out and then wondered if they were gas powered or electric.
I wonder what's behind that fierce concentration of Rocco's when he tried to uh um 'date' his stuffed gorilla. He's certainly working hard at making her his. No one asked her what she feels about his intentions.
I wonder if, when you die, do you know it's coming or is it one minute you're alive and the next, blammo, in a whole new plane of existance.
I wonder if my mother will meet me when I do finally cross over. god I hope not. I can't see me spending eternity still displeasing her.
I wonder if the husband's business will ever be a success.
I wonder where the two canadian geese who I call The Commuters because they fly over the house in the same path, the same time each day, are going. ANd aren't they back here a little early. It is only February after all.
I wonder how the husband would feel if I actually told him how I feel about my birthday always being ignored. Oh I'm asked what I want and if I dare say I don't know... well,,, I get nothing. I brush it off and pretend it doesn't matter but a murmured happy birthday would be nice.
I wonder if, when I die any one will read my journals.
I wonder why a plumber feels the need to announce that he makes house calls on his sign. Of course he makes house calls. I can't see me dragging my toilet down the street when I need it repaired.
I wonder just how dumb a box of bricks are and if Rocco is really dumber than one. Box, not brick.
I wonder if the muslim god really wants his followers so fanatic that they riot over a caracture of him and if he does, he shoudl really get over it.
I wonder how much wood a wood chuck could chuck and just just how the heck one would chuck if one wished to.
I wonder why dogs eat cat poop but cats don't eat dog poop.
I wonder why I wonder these things and how to shut my head up.
posted by ---me--- at Tuesday, February 07, 2006
1 Comments:
Ya know...I wonder the same things that you do, Sharon. I don't wonder why your family doesn't say anything about your birthday though!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! When I wear my bicycle helmet I don't even look in the mirror because I'm afraid that I won't like what I see and then I might stop wearing it. I think that when a person dies they see "the other side" and then their body decides if they are going or staying. I'm probably wrong but that's what I think. Keep on thinking the things that you do, my friend. I have enjoyed reading your blog.
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