TBD

TBD on Ning

...The Ranch's answer to you -know - what - with no rules.

Go ahead...tell us what you're having for dinner - we can't wait! Got a cute pic of kitty peeking out of a paper bag? Post it! We live for that stuff!

Math addict? How about a refresher on the Pythagorean Theorem?

Like macaroni and cheese? Tell us why!

So even if you're not a writer or a poet (yet), there's still plenty of fun things to do at the Armadillo!

Oh baby, oh baby!



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Did not celebrate Pi Day but a friend's daughter celebrated ... her 18th birthday. Does that,er, count?

no pie for me either. Corned beef, though. I bought one, and my son's friend's mother sent one over cooked - sharing her abundance. So plenty of sandwiches in our future.

Well, it had to happen, after the worst winter EV-ER. First day of spring, and it's snowing! !@#$%^&*(!

Cheers!

-M

Oh, dear. Well, it can't last long. can it? Back in the day, we had a monster blizzard in April in CT. We were so used to it those years. We shook our heads in a minorly annoyed sort of way and hunkered down without hot chocolate.

My father used to call spring snow "poor man's fertilizer" because it contains more nitrogen than winter snow.  So it's good for gardens in the Garden State.

We had snow, too, and more today, although it's supposed to get up into the 40s later.

What would Mozart have thought about the blues?...just wonderin'.

Hmmm... You should write a fantasy tale about it. We'd like it.

Writing prompt anyone? I gleaned one from Writer's Digest, concerning a shocking family secret being told you by a dying relative you're caring for. I have an idea of the secret, but having trouble feeling it, as it did not happen to me, Ideas anyone. Care to write this yourself?

Or write about Mozart hearing the blues?

Anyone?

The year is 1786. In Salzburg, Austria, the streets are nearly deserted as a winter storm approaches from the west.

Thirty year old Stephan Ray Mozart is hurriedly closing down the small family bakery to get home before the brunt of the storm arrives.

Outside, he pulls his cape closer as he carefully negotiates the irregular sidewalks – already indiscernible from the cobblestone streets due to the rapidly piling snow.

For a brief moment, he is warmed by thoughts of his wife, Strudel, who is no doubt beginning to worry about him and his long trek home in this unpleasant weather.

Suddenly, Stephan trips and nearly falls to the ground as he stumbles onto something buried in the snow.

“Ach du lieber!” he yells as he seeks whatever it was that impeded his progress.

Scraping away the snow, he retrieves a guitar – one that appears to be in perfect condition…and with no marks or indication as to who the owner might be.

Stephan quickly put it under his cape to protect it from the weather and continued his journey home.

Tomorrow, he would show it to his brother, Amadeus, who knew something about music and instruments.

 

 

 

So what does Wolfie do with this providential instrument? (The name Wolfgang always amused me, sounds like a gang of wolves, you know? Wolf-gang. Makes me laugh).

I can't wait. Is that his, the Queen song?

It's supposed to be.

Woke up this morning. [doo DOO doo-doo doo]

Queen of the Night on my mind. [doo DOO doo-doo doo]

Woke up this morning. [doo DOO doo-doo doo]

Queen of the Night on my mind. [doo DOO doo-doo doo]

Queenie  said, "Baby --

you just ain't my kind." [doo DOO doo-doo doo]

"Get down, little momma, get down!"

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