Stashing Stuff Safely

This post, an original compilation of Whatnot, has been written in accordance with all the rules of Biff’s Whatnot Wednesday.

I thought of baking cookies today so I pulled my cookie sheets out of the cupboard and extracted my laptop from between two of them. Later, when I went looking in another cupboard I discovered where I’d hidden my cell phone.

Are you wondering about my strange storage places? Mind you, if you’re a worrywart like me, you won’t even have to ask, as you probably have all your own hiding places for your valuables. The laptop was sitting in plain sight on the table when we were ready to leave for a shopping trip. Couldn’t have that!

Cabinet.Alexas ftos
            Alexas Fotos — Pixabay

I read years ago that if you’re going to store valuables in the house, you’re better off to keep it in the freezer where no thief will think to look. (Except that now I’ve told. 😉 ) I’ve never done it, mainly for lack of cash to hide, but it made perfect sense to me. I don’t doubt that house-dwellers have various little nooks and crannies where they stuff their stuff for safekeeping. (Beware, though, about storing anything in a hot place like the oven.)

But do keep a record — and do warn your spouse and children that things are not always what they seem. One lady gave away a pair of her husband’s old socks that he never wore anymore — without checking. He nearly had a stroke when he got home, did a random double-check, and learned that his over $1000 nest egg had been donated to the Salvation Army.

To add insult to injury, they hadn’t deemed the socks worth keeping and had tossed them in the dumpster — without checking. That evening guess who was down at the local landfill searching for a pair of socks with a wad of cash stuffed inside. Another lady, trying on shoes in a charity shop, found $1100 stuffed in the toe of a shoe. Bless her, she was honest enough to turn it in.

Yes, do tell someone trustworthy that some things are hidden and they should beware of doing a random discard. Some elderly couples, not trusting banks, squirreled away their life savings with no one the wiser. Money caches in old mattresses and such has gone up in smoke.

Back to the freezer. I read yesterday that you should NOT store your coffee in the freezer. It’s apt to lose flavor. And since our morning java is pretty important, we do want to keep it fresh — and safe. Don’t leave it on the shelf where a burglar may find it; rather, keep it in the back of your filing cabinet, or hidden behind the dictionaries in your bookcase. (You never know, a thief might snitch your novels.)

Of Micros and Macros

The Ragtag Daily Prompt word this morning is MACRO

This is a word I’ve had only a passing acquaintance with. As in, heard it used; had no clue. So I checked in dictionary, I see that MACRO is the big picture whereas MICRO is the small one.

The Canadian Oxford Dictionary tells me:
Macro: A series of abbreviated instructions expanded automatically when required. (An accordion deep inside in your computer?)
Macro- combining form: long, large, large scale, comprehensive
Macrocosm: the universe, the whole of all nature
Macroeconomics: the study of large scale or general economic factors
(Macro is the Federal Budget; microcosm is our family budget.)

I’ve heard of micro-poetry, so I suppose the opposite is macro-poetry? As in, the macro-poem being the old familiar one by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and the micro-poem being my senryu version. What do you think?

THE DAY IS DONE

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me,
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor,
And tonight I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.

Flourish.plainer

senryu version:

soft patter of words
the poet’s pen and your voice
night’s harmony

From My Back Door

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is:  LOOKING OUT MY BACKDOOR.

hoarfrost-3491999_640
Clarence Peters — Pixabay

We don’t have the new dusting of snow and hoar frost this morning, but our scenes are as above, all winterish white and gray. The odd magpie and crow visits or flies over now and then to add its own shades to the scene.

magpie-4661322_640
TheOtherKev — Pixabay

However, the other day when I drove out of my yard a huge bird took flight from a tall old tree at the edge of our yard; a second look told me the bird was a bald eagle. As it circled over the field just south of the road I was on, I got a good view of this regal bird.

bald-eagle-1018717_640
skeeze — Pixabay

If you haven’t already, why don’t you pop over and see how various bloggers have responded to this prompt. All bloggers are welcome to write and share their own posts on the topic. LOOKING OUT MY BACKDOOR

“Wee timorous beastie” indeed!

It’s Wednesday again and Biff seems to be AWOL as yet. Nevertheless, I’ll do a Whatnot Wednesday post anyway — mainly because I don’t know what else to do with this verse-of-sorts. 🙂

The following poem is based on a real life experience…

The moon rains silver on my window
pierces the darkness of my eleventh hour,
draws thin slats on my carpet as
warm ambiance enfolds me like a cloak
woven of droopy eyelids, wool-gathering.

My book slips from my hand; sinking into
the fronds of fern casting their shadows
in dark splashes on the carpet
rubbing the rich brown of the old
grandfather clock poised to chime.

Shattering my doze like a snare drum,
the steady rustle I have come to dread.
That MOUSE again!
Intrepid raider of the cat-food dish.
Its toes scratch on the floor tile as it creeps
forward toward its goal – then I hear
that brazen crunching I detest.

It knows – I’m positive it bides its time until
some telepathy reveals to its pea-brain
when I am most vulnerable. Too burdened
and half asleep — can it hear me breathe — 
to give chase. Then out it creeps
to fill its emptiness with a cat food snack,
which it erroneously believes
has been provided for its benefit.

I will the clock to strike, to boom
a hickory, dickory, dock. A horrid shock
that causes said mouse to die of fright.
Yet Grandfather has nothing to say just yet,
so
I sit here trembling in the darkness
while my cat, a warm ball on my lap,
snores on, oblivious to mouse or man.
Waking, only to glance at me in peeved disdain,

when I screech, “You’re FIRED!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In my dreams…

Cat + Mouse.K Tyl