My thought process needs pruning.

It’s something that I should work on.  My thought “flow” is more like our “sheeting swamp” in the back pasture and less like the determined, directed flow of the mighty Mississippi from the top of the map to where it drains at the bottom. My thoughts are constantly hiccuping and gaging.  They meander, and then get hypoxia & lost and then find their way back home again along with the high-tide debris that my ideas picked up along the way.

Somehow I don’t think I should have so many “draft posts” floating in my “draft-post-saver-section/place-wherever” of the WordPress. I may never finish them all. If my thought-flow in these drafts is any indication of my thinking process…………….then…………oops………….there’s a ricochet-factor going on here.  It appears I think more like a pinball machine than Ol’e Man River.

Have you noticed that I’ve finally figured out how to include photos in my Blog?…………………Well, I have.  (They are mostly all on the left margin, because I haven’t worked-out with regularity—–how to move them anywhere else on the page.)

Cyber-stuff just doesn’t stick with me.  I’ve got teensie-bytes where others have terra-bytes, or T-Rex-bytes or whatever.  It’s like throwing mud at a wall and most all of it just doesn’t stick………………….it just oozes down to a muddy plop on the floor.

I’ve watched my girls learn something new with a computer and be able to immediately apply it and use it again and again.  I’m shown something…………….and then shown something…………….and shown something……………….and when it comes around again………………..it’s all new to me!  Sigh.

Well I discovered this free-image-use site.  Then I lost it.  Then I found it again.  Then I figured out how to transfer and use some of the photos………………………well, as of today, I couldn’t find the site again and when I finally did———I couldn’t figure out how to transfer and post the stupid pictures AGAIN!———

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How did I make it through higher education?  Oh, that’s right.  Ready for a hiccup?  Here’s a true story.

I got A’s in Russian class for two years.  It was a necessity as a language requirement before I could graduate.  Where I lack in intellect & memory, I make up for with survival instincts & tactics.  So in order to get my A, I applied one part of my formula-for-life that I’ve devised over the years……………and that is:  the offering of food……………….much like the tasty tidbits left on a rock for the neighboring clan who is bigger and stronger, so that they potentially see your assets and choose not club you to death.

I’ll get into my entire formula-for-life later (it’s not that complex———but it does work), but for now it was “food” that aced my Russian classes.  I looked up any Russian recipe I could find and I would bring it to my cute, little Russian professor.  His favorite were the reliable Russian Tea Cakes………………my version of grapes & gallbladders wrapped in a grape leaf and left on a boulder for Alley Oop.

I’m not proud.  To this day I can’t speak Russian.  I can’t understand Russian.  Although I can say one sentence in Russian: “I speak Russian very poorly.”  I can phonetically sound out some of a printed Russian sentence……………….BUT…………….I’m dynamite at reading sorority and fraternity names.  Always a plus!  And my required language credits did not put my GPA in the dumper.  Plus I discovered borscht.  Yummy.

AAAAAAANNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDD———I passed along these pearls of wisdom to my older daughter and she got her A in her Russian class too……………………….zdravstvuj & svidaniya.

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I just re-read my above post in order to do some proof-reading.  See what I mean, I’m a sheeting swamp, not the Mississippi.

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Another fun little ditty.  I used to drive an AMC Gremlin (Grasshopper Green).  Yes I did!  A 3-speed stick.  I loved that car.  I could fit eight people in it (probably illegally).  It could jump small curbs on command (except for jamming the fan blades into the radiator—–but that was just one time—–and then it had this funny little rattle all the time after that).  But my main-mode of transportation was a 10-speed bike from Montgomery Wards.  It was about eight miles to school and I was fit.  (I fell off a 15-speed recently—–trying to get off—–things change & apparently so did my coordination.)  The University of South Florida has a huge campus that was/is perfect for a bike to get from class to class and not have to deal with finding a spot for parking a vehicle (especially a one-ton dually with a long bed and crew cab——–they just don’t fit in “Compact Spots”—–I’ve tried) .

I did have to take off the plastic pole with its fluorescent flag.  Originally it was meant to safely let cars know where I was when I was cycling in front of them.  I found that it was successful in letting them know where I was……………………and then giving said cars the advanced opportunity to aim at me.  So the flag came off.  It probably was a good thing for the flag to come off anyway.  It was attached to the back wheel axel, and as I would swing my leg over the seat to get on, I would regularly get my foot hooked on the pole/stopping my momentum/& causing me (and my bike) to pancake on the ground………………..so maybe my recent belly-whopper with my bike is not that much age-related as just klutz-related.

Here’s another fun little memory.  My daughters should be glad I survived my stupidity long enough to bring them into this world.  In hind-sight I’m kind of surprised I made it this far.

The road I used to bike to school on was two-lanes (now it’s between six to eight lanes).  I did on occasion venture onto more multiple-lane roads…………but I quickly discovered this really strong, sucking-action after the 18-wheelers would blow past me.  My survival instincts kicked in and I soon decided that the vacuum-sucking-effect of these big tractor trailers was not too-terribly survivable……….especially if there is a line-up of 18-wheelers behind you as you are fighting your bike to get out of the middle of the traffic lane and back to the side of the road to safety.

Ah, youth………………and stupidity…………………