USMB Coffee Shop IV

[Gracie]

Not going to lie, I was pretty bummed about not getting the postal job in a town 25 minutes from home. Wednesday was rough and I was only partially recovered Thursday. So I go online to do a job search today and there it is, a postal job four blocks from my house. I applied and now we wait....

Oh, I hope you get it, SL!!!

 

[Gracie]

I don't pray for a specific job. I have asked for things before and got them, only to find it was not what I expected or needed.

Sometimes, He says a resounding "no". I suspect it's cuz He has something else in mind we are not privy to until it happens.

 

[Michelle420]

I don't pray for a specific job. I have asked for things before and got them, only to find it was not what I expected or needed.

The same thing has happened to me. Also sometimes when things aren't happening/changing fast enough and things seem to be at a standstill I will get impatient, especially if it's taking a very long time here humanly. Then I take matters into my own hands and force a situation by making a rash decision instead of a divinely led decision. It usually ends up being worse then it was when I was stuck in a standstill. Gotta be led to the right situation.

 

[Gracie]

On saturday I go have an ultra sound, soft tissue xray and lab work done at the hospital. Thyroid is acting up and they set up procedures to see wtf is going on.

Meanwhile, I am still awake because I am binge watching Stranger Things 2 on netflix. Then off to bed.

Have a good night, y'all.

 

[Foxfyre]

Sherry and me have been binge watching Madmen on Netflix and this song played at the end of one of the episodes. Had to learn it. Hope you like.


Don't Think Twice It's Alright by user183852791

One of my favorites and I like your arrangement.

 

[Foxfyre]

No CPAP to help with the apnea? Hombre suffered with that for years, but once he got his CPAP he now gets a normal night's sleep.

In the works. Had three sleep studies done, now just waiting on all the paperwork to be completed - hopefully in the next couple of weeks. I hear good things from folks who use them.

The new machines and the new face equipment are so much less cumbersome and uncomfortable than the old ones used to be. And yes, almost everybody who has gotten one who needed it, and who could tolerate the breathing apparatus on the face/head report a significant if not incredible improvement in their sleep, energy levels during the day, everything. It does improve health considerably.

I tried one out at the sleep clinic that worked well for me. Not a full mask, just a soft nose piece that is supposed to work best for side sleepers. I am determined to get used to it.

That's what my Hombre uses too. He really likes it and says he sometimes has to check to make sure its on as it is so comfortable he becomes unaware of it.

 

[Foxfyre]

Not going to lie, I was pretty bummed about not getting the postal job in a town 25 minutes from home. Wednesday was rough and I was only partially recovered Thursday. So I go online to do a job search today and there it is, a postal job four blocks from my house. I applied and now we wait....

Well as they say, the ways are mysterious. My son once lost a job in a hostile corporate takeover when he had a mortgage, a stay at home wife with our granddaughter who was a toddler at the time. But the work environment had been so toxic for so long for some time he was in pretty bad shape physically and mentally. So he put his resume out to several dozen places and took the family on a much needed vacation to get his health restored and his mind straight. When he got home he expected a mailbox full of interview offers. But there was nothing. Not a single one. Not even any rejections. He said "hecky darn" (that's paraphrased for the Coffee Shop of course.)

And just about when he was at the point of total despair he got a call from one of the potential employers wanting to interview him. He got the job probably because of his credentials and work record--he couldn't expect any references from the people who fired him--and because it was in a little west Texas place that few people with his expertise would want to live he was hired the day of the interview. It turned out to be a great job and they love that little west Texas town and expect to retire there.

 

[Ringel05]

No CPAP to help with the apnea? Hombre suffered with that for years, but once he got his CPAP he now gets a normal night's sleep.

In the works. Had three sleep studies done, now just waiting on all the paperwork to be completed - hopefully in the next couple of weeks. I hear good things from folks who use them.

The new machines and the new face equipment are so much less cumbersome and uncomfortable than the old ones used to be. And yes, almost everybody who has gotten one who needed it, and who could tolerate the breathing apparatus on the face/head report a significant if not incredible improvement in their sleep, energy levels during the day, everything. It does improve health considerably.

I tried one out at the sleep clinic that worked well for me. Not a full mask, just a soft nose piece that is supposed to work best for side sleepers. I am determined to get used to it.

Had a full mask for years as I tend to be both a nose and a mouth breather depending on how my allergies are acting up. Took a little bit to get used to but now it feels weird not wearing it when I go to bed.

 

[Dajjal]

I just watched the DVD of 'The mummy' with Tom Cruise. I was disappointed in it as I was hoping for more from a blockbuster. I should have known it would not be that great after seeing him in 'The war of the worlds' another remake that was not as good as the original.

 

[SeaGal]

I just watched the DVD of 'The mummy' with Tom Cruise. I was disappointed in it as I was hoping for more from a blockbuster. I should have known it would not be that great after seeing him in 'The war of the worlds' another remake that was not as good as the original.

Not a huge Cruise fan but I really liked his 'War of the Worlds'. Have watched it a number of times. Haven't seen the Mummy though.

 

[Michelle420]

I had a nice day went to Sam's club then browsed thrift shops. Got some more books.

 

[Foxfyre]

Good night darlinks, I really do love you guys.

And we continue to pray and/or send good vibes and/or positive thoughts and/or keep vigil for

Harper (Save's granddaughter),
Pogo’s friend Pat and special comfort for Pogo,
Nosmo's mom,
Rod, GW's partner,
Kat's sister,
Boedicca, her dad, brother, and family,
Sherry's Mom for treatment to be successful,
The Ringels in difficult transition
Dana, Foxfyre's friend recovering from heart transplant
Mr. and Mrs. Gracie in difficult transition
Ringel's injured shoulder and general wellness
Saveliberty for positive resolution for difficult transition,
Mr. and Mrs. Peach174 for full recovery from setback,
Strength and stamina for gallantwarrior in his relocation project,
Saveliberty's brother-in-law,
And for our students, job hunters, others in transition.

And the light is left on for Noomi, Freedombecki, AgainSheila, Esthermoon, Dalia, SFC Ollie, and all others we hope are okay and will return to us.

Autumn in South Carolina

 

[Nosmo King]

I know it's 2:00 in the morning. But when the muse whispers, you just gotta get something down on paper, or floating through cyberspace, as it were.

I, like every other man in my family, am a Freemason. The family tradition goes back generations, back to Dundee Scotland. Without betraying the secrets of the ceremonies conducted for initiation into the Masons, let me just lay out a few tidbits. My Blue Lodge hosted an annual affair called Crucible Night. There is no mention of a crucible in any Masonic lore. Crucible referred to Crucible Steel, the massive mill just up the river a few miles in Midland, Pennsylvania.

Our Lodge would invite brother Masons from the Pennsylvania Lodges to our Lodge hall, the largest and most opulent in the Tri-State area. We would conduct a master mason, or third degree rite for them then go downstairs and eat baked steak and cherry cobbler. In the Ohio version of the ceremony the master mason is ritually murdered and the hunt for the killers fills in the details of the action. The part of the master mason is played by the initiate. No lines to learn, you just have to endure the murder and lay still like a corpse.

And here's where the Ohio ceremony differs from the Pennsylvania ceremony. In Pennsylvania, there is just the laying on of hands that kills the master mason. But in Ohio the master mason is blindfolded and given a mighty wallop by way of a leather baseball bat stuffed with a 50-50 mix of horsehair and 00 buckshot. I was initiated this way, during Crucible Night and, when the 'fatal blow' was administered, I could hear a gasp from the gallery where all our Pennsylvanian brothers were seated.

Later I found out it was my beloved Uncle Ducky who wielded the bat. If you've been reading my ramblings here you know that I really loved my Uncle Ducky. A giant of a man, 6'3" and 270 pounds, Ducky made an impression with his size and his handling of the ceremonial bat.

Most of my family went on to be involved in the Shriners. You must be a Mason to be a Shriner. I was too busy with a career that took me around the world to find and clean up environmental problems to devote any time to the fun the Shriners had.

Our local Shrine club had an Oriental Band. Some Shrine clubs drove in miniature Corvettes or paraded magnificent show horses. But our parade schtick was the Oriental Band.

The band members were uniformed in ankle length caftans stitched together from striped cotton or whatever was on the bolts of cloth at Olsen's Department Store's notions department. Harum pants in co-ordinating fabric, white dress shirts with the collar turned inside giving the effect of a white collarless blouse and topped off with the traditional deep red fez festooned with the crescent and scimitar emblem of the Shrine. After some Arabian makeup to disguise the pasty AngloSaxon complexions and the application of a fake beard most band members would raid the gaudiest costume jewelry their wives owned just to round out the look.

As for shoes, well, that's really special. You had to take an old pair of wingtips down to Gillespie's cobbler shop caddy corner from Milligan's Hardware. Slip Mr. Gillespie a ten, give him the high sign and Presto! A week later you too could have a pair of shoes right out of an illustrated copy of 1001 Arabian Nights. Fitted out with a curly toe cap and a fresh coat of gold spray paint you were ready to stride down the middle of Walnut Street with the Oriental Band.

Musically the band always left you wanting more. More rehearsal more direction and more talent. They had a percussion section comprised of a big bass drum, a couple pairs of cymbals that always clashed just behind the beat and two marching rows of conga drums, the kind Desi Arnez strapped over his shoulder as he sang Babaloo!

And then there was the reed section. These fellas played instruments that looked like a recorder but sounded like a kazoo. "Wee née wee née née née née!" The effect was as if someone was shaving cats. They had all the musical appeal of the wind whistling across an empty Pepsi can snagged on a barbed wire fence. But they were loud and they were persistent.

And that brings me back to Uncle Ducky. He had the musical ability of a bar of Fels Naptha soap and couldn't hold the rhythm any better than he could hold a handful of Mercury. But his shear physicality made him the perfect 'drum major'. Stripped to the waist, wearing his harum pants and curly toed shoes and fez, Ducky would slather dark makeup all over his upper body. Nobody could believe a guy with the complexion of a dumpling could pass as Middle Eastern without it. Ducky's baton was a for real scimitar shiny and silver with a gold hilt and handle. He would swing that sword over his big ol' head that looked like it belonged on the label of a canned ham. He would spin it, toss it up damn near to the electric wires crossing West Fifth street, catch it and grin the grin of a truly precocious little boy.

Every Fourth of July and Christmas the Shriners would parade. They would toss out handfuls of little disc shaped peppermints and butterscotches wrapped in cellophane. After the parade they would go out to the Shrine club and drink Manhattans because no alcohol could be served in the Masonic Temple. I sure miss their shows.

 

[SeaGal]

I know it's 2:00 in the morning. But when the muse whispers, you just gotta get something down on paper, or floating through cyberspace, as it were.

Awesome!!! Good read...well done!

I, too, am sometimes awakened by the muse...and you've perfectly described the compulsion to 'get something down on paper'. He never whispers to me though - why is it always on the darkest side of dawn?

The Scribe

I am not a poet.

Though every now and then a faceless one appears without invitation.
Demanding, controlling, selfishly screaming words insistent on dictation.

Impossible to ignore, whirling round and round.
I do not create the words, merely write them down.

I am a scribe.

SeaGal 11/14/16

 

[Compost]

Nosmo, that was a really cool peek into the Mason/Shriner world. Kudos to your muse!

 

[WelfareQueen]

On saturday I go have an ultra sound, soft tissue xray and lab work done at the hospital. Thyroid is acting up and they set up procedures to see wtf is going on.

Meanwhile, I am still awake because I am binge watching Stranger Things 2 on netflix. Then off to bed.

Have a good night, y'all.

Me and Sherry love Netflix. We have binge watched The Last Kingdom, Ripper Street, Versailles, The Tudors, and now Madmen. Good stuff.

 

[Foxfyre]

I know it's 2:00 in the morning. But when the muse whispers, you just gotta get something down on paper, or floating through cyberspace, as it were.

I, like every other man in my family, am a Freemason. The family tradition goes back generations, back to Dundee Scotland. Without betraying the secrets of the ceremonies conducted for initiation into the Masons, let me just lay out a few tidbits. My Blue Lodge hosted an annual affair called Crucible Night. There is no mention of a crucible in any Masonic lore. Crucible referred to Crucible Steel, the massive mill just up the river a few miles in Midland, Pennsylvania.

Our Lodge would invite brother Masons from the Pennsylvania Lodges to our Lodge hall, the largest and most opulent in the Tri-State area. We would conduct a master mason, or third degree rite for them then go downstairs and eat baked steak and cherry cobbler. In the Ohio version of the ceremony the master mason is ritually murdered and the hunt for the killers fills in the details of the action. The part of the master mason is played by the initiate. No lines to learn, you just have to endure the murder and lay still like a corpse.

And here's where the Ohio ceremony differs from the Pennsylvania ceremony. In Pennsylvania, there is just the laying on of hands that kills the master mason. But in Ohio the master mason is blindfolded and given a mighty wallop by way of a leather baseball bat stuffed with a 50-50 mix of horsehair and 00 buckshot. I was initiated this way, during Crucible Night and, when the 'fatal blow' was administered, I could hear a gasp from the gallery where all our Pennsylvanian brothers were seated.

Later I found out it was my beloved Uncle Ducky who wielded the bat. If you've been reading my ramblings here you know that I really loved my Uncle Ducky. A giant of a man, 6'3" and 270 pounds, Ducky made an impression with his size and his handling of the ceremonial bat.

Most of my family went on to be involved in the Shriners. You must be a Mason to be a Shriner. I was too busy with a career that took me around the world to find and clean up environmental problems to devote any time to the fun the Shriners had.

Our local Shrine club had an Oriental Band. Some Shrine clubs drove in miniature Corvettes or paraded magnificent show horses. But our parade schtick was the Oriental Band.

The band members were uniformed in ankle length caftans stitched together from striped cotton or whatever was on the bolts of cloth at Olsen's Department Store's notions department. Harum pants in co-ordinating fabric, white dress shirts with the collar turned inside giving the effect of a white collarless blouse and topped off with the traditional deep red fez festooned with the crescent and scimitar emblem of the Shrine. After some Arabian makeup to disguise the pasty AngloSaxon complexions and the application of a fake beard most band members would raid the gaudiest costume jewelry their wives owned just to round out the look.

As for shoes, well, that's really special. You had to take an old pair of wingtips down to Gillespie's cobbler shop caddy corner from Milligan's Hardware. Slip Mr. Gillespie a ten, give him the high sign and Presto! A week later you too could have a pair of shoes right out of an illustrated copy of 1001 Arabian Nights. Fitted out with a curly toe cap and a fresh coat of gold spray paint you were ready to stride down the middle of Walnut Street with the Oriental Band.

Musically the band always left you wanting more. More rehearsal more direction and more talent. They had a percussion section comprised of a big bass drum, a couple pairs of cymbals that always clashed just behind the beat and two marching rows of conga drums, the kind Desi Arnez strapped over his shoulder as he sang Babaloo!

And then there was the reed section. These fellas played instruments that looked like a recorder but sounded like a kazoo. "Wee née wee née née née née!" The effect was as if someone was shaving cats. They had all the musical appeal of the wind whistling across an empty Pepsi can snagged on a barbed wire fence. But they were loud and they were persistent.

And that brings me back to Uncle Ducky. He had the musical ability of a bar of Fels Naptha soap and couldn't hold the rhythm any better than he could hold a handful of Mercury. But his shear physicality made him the perfect 'drum major'. Stripped to the waist, wearing his harum pants and curly toed shoes and fez, Ducky would slather dark makeup all over his upper body. Nobody could believe a guy with the complexion of a dumpling could pass as Middle Eastern without it. Ducky's baton was a for real scimitar shiny and silver with a gold hilt and handle. He would swing that sword over his big ol' head that looked like it belonged on the label of a canned ham. He would spin it, toss it up damn near to the electric wires crossing West Fifth street, catch it and grin the grin of a truly precocious little boy.

Every Fourth of July and Christmas the Shriners would parade. They would toss out handfuls of little disc shaped peppermints and butterscotches wrapped in cellophane. After the parade they would go out to the Shrine club and drink Manhattans because no alcohol could be served in the Masonic Temple. I sure miss their shows.

Insomnia serves you very well, Nosmo. I loved this.

Like you and Seagal, I do my best writing between midnight and dawn. At other times of the day I am often too distracted by the phone, by impulses that I should be doing this or doing that, or by the tension of knowing there is somewhere I have to be at some time that day. But after midnight, all is quiet, nobody calls, nobody expects anything of me, and I write.

 

[Foxfyre]

Nosmo, that was a really cool peek into the Mason/Shriner world. Kudos to your muse!

I see you are not new to USMB Compost, but I don't find you on the Coffee Shop register, so welcome. Glad you found us. Your first timer's complimentary beverage:

 

[Foxfyre]

On saturday I go have an ultra sound, soft tissue xray and lab work done at the hospital. Thyroid is acting up and they set up procedures to see wtf is going on.

Meanwhile, I am still awake because I am binge watching Stranger Things 2 on netflix. Then off to bed.

Have a good night, y'all.

Me and Sherry love Netflix. We have binge watched The Last Kingdom, Ripper Street, Versailles, The Tudors, and now Madmen. Good stuff.

We have been enjoying binge watching some of our old favorite movies though the World Series has cut into that significantly this past week.

 

[blackhawk]