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Searching desperately for a spring song. Every season has one. For spring, not so much.

Hot fun in the summertime. Summertime and the living is easy. No problem with summer songs.

Do you remember the 21st night of September Wake me up when September ends. Autumn good.

Winter Wonderland. Sometimes in winter. O God, winter songs are NO problem..

Spring … uh. Looking for it. PS Anything by Spring steen doesn’t count.

Wedwand watchers. Got one?


Time flies, it’s said. Time is a tyrant.
Time keeps on ticking ticking ticking into the future.
Here’s it is. April 10, 2018. 2018, by gosh.
I may be dating myself here, but I remember reading a futuristic novel, 1984 by George Orwell.
I remember a song by The Artist called Prince named 1999 singing how we all were gonna party like it’s 1999. He was dreaming when he wrote this.
Then there was this sci-fi movie called 2001 – A Space Odyssey.
These were all in the past. And have been outlived by the future.

Here’s it is. April 10, 2018. 2018, by gosh.
It’s been 5 years since my first Wedwand post on this adventure called a blog. In tribute, I share a blog about time posted April 24, 2013, nearly five years ago.
If this adventure made you laugh, think or dream, then my mission was accomplished.
If it just helped you happily pass the time, and was mildly entertaining, that was a part of the mission too.

Here’s the post:

Sometimes you want it to fly.
Other times, you want it to stand still.
Sometimes it goes by in the blink of an eye.
Other times, it seems to drag, like carrying a load up a hill.
Yet, it never changes.
It is a constant.
It is always there, ever ever moving.

Sounds like a “who is it” riddle, right?
If you haven’t figured by now, I am referring to time.

The concept of time has mystified the masses and invoked much music. ♫
Many songs have been written about time. Here’s some of my favorites, perhaps my Top Ten Time songs in no particular order:

Time after time. (If you fall I will catch you … I will be waiting.)
Time in a bottle. (But there never seems to be enough time …)
Time keeps on slippin slippin slippin into the future. (Fly like an eagle to the sea.)
Does anybody really know what time it is? (Does anybody really care?)
Time waits for no one and he won’t wait for me. (No favors has he.)
Time has come today. (Which has a rock and roll classic “yeeeeah” at the end.)
Time is on my side. (Yes it is.)
It’s the time of the season for loving. (Who’s your daddy?)
I hope you had the time of your life (Which is a parenthetical title for Good Riddance.)
TiK ToK (On the clock but the party don’t stop, no. Oh whoa whoa Oh.)

Anything by Morris Day and the Time should count too. Wait, maybe not.

Time is money. I looked it up and was not totally unsurprised it is a quote from Benjamin Franklin in Advice to a Young Tradesman, Written by an Old One.

Heck, my font for the draft is Times New Roman.

Someone named a whole news magazine called simply, TIME.

There is a character named Father Time with a grey beard carrying an hour glass we see from time to time around New Years Eve. Not sure who Mother Time is but sometimes time CAN be a mother.

I am punctionally challenged and that all goes back to time.
If there was no time I would never be late.

Down time. Up time. Every time. All the time.

There’s more I could say, but I’m running out of time. I leave you with one thought:

Never wish away time in your life, because time is too short.


Ever get that late night snack urge? Sure you have. I happen to have just fulfilled that urge and am doing my best to make sure none of it sticks to the keyboard as I I I I (woops) type.

Some of my late night snack cravings are unusual but specific. Cheerios doused with Ovaltine and milk, topped with honey. A summertime favorite is a fresh garden tomato sandwich on whole wheat toast with mayonnaise and celery salt.

On occasion, the snack leans towards the bizarre. I will spare you the details of what you can do with leftover pizza, bacon bits, ranch dressing, an avocado and some hot sauce.

Tonight, it was a rather traditional craving for peanut butter and jelly that called out to me. My ultimate PBJ starts with a couple slices of bread, preferably a nice oat bran bread so I can delude myself into the nutritional health value of the sandwich. (Although on a scale of one to Elvis, its gotta be better for you than a fried Graceland PBBB.)

A teaspoon of honey is spread over the bread. Tasty and it improves spreadability. After it has formed a sweet crust, the sandwich construction can begin.

What made this particular sandwich one a step above the rest was the brand new jar of peanut butter in the cabinet. I bought it this afternoon. I knew it was there. It surely knew it was about to be tapped.

The simple pleasure of being the first to dip into the fresh full jar of delight and strategically scoop the very first glob o peanut butter to spread on the bread is outstanding. I mean the sandwich was good enough, but to be the first to skim the Skippy gave a boost to the preparation process indeed. This only happens every so often you realize, so cherish the moment when it does.

Jelly of choice tonight was sour cherry. Beverage of choice, a glass of chocolate milk.

Then the kicker in this late night labor of low level culinary love came at the bottom of the glass. As so often happens, what remained there was a sweet swirl of a rich chocolate sludge-like substance that was spoon worthy and tasted outstandingly rich. O sure you can add a little more milk and mix it up. I prefer the spoonful.

So there I shared and if you care to share your simple pleasures, I urge you to comment and do so.

Having let it all out now, I wonder if I can get to sleep. O yeah, crisp clean sheets are on the bed. I am pretty sure I can doze off in a minutes or two and if I can, my dreams are sure to be as sweet as the snack.

First scoop, last spoonful, crisp sheets. Ah, the simple pleasures.