The Editor Cringed

In honor of Barb

It’s Saturday, and that means that Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meets the crew at No Facilities Bar & Grill. Linda has switched gears on us today, and she’s making my life difficult, because events dictate the subject of this post. What’s a boy to do? Play along as best I can, I guess…

“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is ‘earworm.’ Talk about your latest earworm, or one that habitually haunts you. Enjoy!”

If we were at the bar, you’d be trying to buy me a beer.

“I’m surprised to see you here today.”

“Why’s that? I’m almost always here on Saturdays.”

“Well, with this being such a special day, I just thought…”

“He thought he would buy you a beer, but I beat him to it – this Corona, and her lime are on the house, congratulations!”

“Thank you, Cheryl, and thank you my friend. I didn’t expect any recognition. Well, I didn’t expect any from you, Cheryl is a different story, she generally pays attention to this stuff.”

“True, I don’t keep a close count, but a thousand blog posts is noteworthy.”

“Achieving the milestone might be noteworthy. I’m not sure how many of the thousand posts fall into that category.”

“I’d say six, maybe eight.”

“Thanks. That’s closer to what I expected from you.”

“How does your wife feel about having edited a thousand posts?”

“She cringed a bit. But, she doesn’t edit all of them, so she might not be at a thousand yet.”

“On No Facilities. Didn’t she edit your other blogs?”

“Oh, that’s right. She probably crossed this bridge a long time ago.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t jump off, Dan.”

“No Cheryl, we’re lucky she didn’t jump off. I follow him on Facebook – it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I’ve given up on Facebook, but he can’t be that bad.”

“Maybe not, if you live in England or Canada.”

“Huh?”

“He’s referring to the Facebook posts I make from my phone. It keeps switching to the English spelling of words like ‘honor’ – you know, putting the ‘U’ in them.”

“Aren’t you a tech-guy? Can’t you fix that?”

“Ha! I am a tech-guy, but I don’t seem to be able to fix this. The settings indicate that my language preference is ‘English’ and my region is ‘US’ – that should do it.”

“Listen guys, I have to go check the patio. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks Cheryl.”

“I didn’t notice ‘honor’ or the other ‘U’ words, but when you spelled realized with an ‘S’ – you can’t miss that.”

“I did.”

“Which is why you should always have your Editor at your side.”

“She really can’t be bothered with Facebook.”

“More and more, lately, neither can I.”

“Are you thinking of dropping your account?”

“No, but I’ve scaled back how often I go there and whom I follow.”

“That’s a popular trend. Facebook is losing the teen to twenty crowd, and the older generations are scaling back usage.”

“It’s losing value, too.”

“Trust you to focus on the financial side.”

“You tech-guys don’t understand, that’s what drives the platform.”

“I know, ‘show me the money’ – I guess that will mean more spam, spammy people and advertising.”

“It’s inevitable. And, as the core demographic shifts to our age-bracket, those ads are going to follow us.”

“Great, Facebook ads for spine surgery and arthritis medicine.”

“Wow, I leave you for a few minutes and you guys are talking about your aches and pains…”

“Actually, Cheryl, we’re still talking about Facebook.”

“That’s worse. I think you guys need another round.”

“On the house?”

“No. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of being able to buy him that celebratory beer.”

“OK, this round is on me, and toss in an order of wings.”

“Speaking of wings, I got some great shots of a Blue Heron at Great River Park this week.”

“Are you sure it was blue?”

“No. They all look like gray Herons to me, but I’m always thinking blue when I’m in that park.”

“Why? The Connecticut River certainly isn’t blue.”

“Allman Brothers.”

“Blue Sky?”

“Exactly. ♫ Walk along the river…”

“Please, I know the song – don’t try to sing it.”

“It’s hard not to sing. It gets stuck in my head.”

“I think they call that an earworm.”

“I don’t use that expression.”

“But that’s what they call it.”

“They can call it anything they want, but I don’t use that expression.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me think of the scene in “The Wrath of Khan” where that creepy thing crawls out of Chekov’s ear, and…”

“Stop!”

“What?”

“I can’t stand that scene – I don’t want it stuck in my head.”

“You should have let me sing Blue Sky.”

“I’ll make you a deal. Stop talking about that scene and you can sing Jessica.”

“OK.”

“Here you go boys. A fresh cold Corona and another splash of Meiomi. Wings will be up in a couple minutes.”

“Thanks Cheryl.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing with you Cheryl, but Jessica is an instrumental.”

“I knew that.”

Today’s gallery is from the past couple of weeks at Great River Park. Be sure to check out Cheryl’s latest post for her fun take on this prompt, and thank you all for reading these stories and encouraging me to this milestone post. Most important, thanks to The Editor for her loving service in making it appear that I understand English grammar.

Heron and ducks on the muddy shore of the CT River.

He blends in pretty well.

This is a little tributary into the CT River at the south end of Great River Park.

My morning ride. I rode about 1.5 miles. Covered more ground than I could walking.

I took the Lime Bike to the south end of Great River Park.

From the south end of Great River Park. That’s Charter Oak Landing across the river.

The Colt Dome from a different angle.

“I’m walkin’, yes indeed, and I’m talkin’ ’bout you and me…”

Peeking in through the bushes.

For the Maddie lovers.

Maddie’s is about a mile from Great River Park.

6:00 am, almost 80°f (27°c) with 94% humidity.

Blue, Green, whatever, I love the way they look in the water.

He looks calm, but he sagged a fish about 30 seconds after I took this. I wasn’t able to get a decent shot.

Driving up out of Great River Park is always interesting when the sun is rising. I hope the other drivers can see.

About 2 miles from Great River Park is a school. Off to a foggy start.