T.G.I.F.: 23° F feels like 13° F

 

 

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week

Image from ...things


Source: poppin-me

T.G.I.F.: Exactly!

TGIF: Good Morning Everyone


Source: David Lynch (via Newthom)

T.G.I.F.: It’s Been A Long Week

It isn’t about peace, a quiet life, not feeling things, not experiencing things. It’s about the shit hitting the fan, and having the courage to sit with yourself, not hide, not deny–to observe the tumult from the end of the snake’s tongue.

— Samantha HarveyThe Shapeless Unease: A Year of Not Sleeping (Grove Press; May 12, 2020)


Note: Photo by NB Hunter

T.G.I.F.: What?


Source: Fabulously Weird: A Jacana carrying chicks underneath its wings. Photo by Charl Stols Photography. Jacana Prime Time…With the floods arriving on the Chobe River fields of waterlilies and other water plants are forming, the nesting grounds for the African Jacana. Some of the males are still incubating the eggs while others have their hands or feathers full with looking after the chicks. In this image a male is carrying all four chicks under his wings just leaving their long legs and toes exposed. (Image taken on the Chobe River, Kasane, Botswana)

T.G.I.F.: Shuffle, ball, step. Shuffle, ball, lunge.


Source of Image via alamy.com from original Film Title – Mr. Popper’s Penguins (2011). Star: Jim Carrey.   (via Mennyfox55)

T.G.I.F.: It’s Been A Long Week


Source: Mondo.  “It’s An Art Show, Charlie Brown. This past weekend we kicked off the celebration of the 70th anniversary of Charles M. Schulz’s brilliant PEANUTS. (via thisisnthappiness)

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week!


Source: Moviesludge

Driving I-95 South. With Jazzman.

5:38 a.m. T.G.I.F.

68 F. Glorious Summer Day. And, yet for some reason you’re dragging. 

I-95 S traffic is smooth.

7 1/2 hours of sleep. Yet, groggy. Eyes blink to clear.  Makes no sense, you’re so damn tired. 

Exit 8, one-half mile ahead. Get off, go home, go back to bed. Call in Sick.

I slide into the right (slow) lane. A foreign place to me. 

I reduce speed to 55. A walk at a pace uncomfortable for me.

I pass Exit 8.

I trail a Semi. “If you can’t see my mirrors, I can’t see you.” I can’t see much of anything right now Friend.

Waze signals 17 minutes to destination.

Exit 5, one mile ahead. Get off, go home, go back to bed. Call in Sick.

I pass Exit 5.

I reach for the radio.  Spin knob to find Sirius 7 on 70’s. Carole King with Jazzman

Lift me, won’t you lift me
Above the old routine;
Make it nice, play it clean, jazzman
He can sing you into paradise
Or bring you to your knees
Jazzman, take my blues away…

I shift in my seat. Snap out of it. 

Exit 2, last exit. Get off, go home, go back to bed. Call in Sick. Call in Sick? When you really aren’t Sick? Light calendar, handful of appointments. Martyr. Moron. 

I pass Exit 2.

I swing into the center lane and then again over to the left lane. I accelerate. Sigh. I’m home.

I pull into the parking garage. Near empty but for the cars parked overnight.  I walk down the empty hallway. I set my briefcase on my desk.

Lift me, won’t you lift me
Right back into my old routine
Sing me into paradise
Or bring me to my knees


Photo: Jamie Schafer

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