There was supposed to be a lunar eclipse last night. I missed it, of course.

However, Belle the Collaborator Cat had a different idea. Around 4 AM, she tapped me on the shoulder, a sign that she wanted me to get up and accompany her to her food bowl to watch her eat. I did, but she didn't. I noticed a bright light outside, and went to check.

It was the moon, full, big, and in a cloudless sky. Seeing it like that was a rare event, perception-changing. Not quite a potentially once in a lifetime event like an eclipse, but enough to change that day and get Belle forgiveness for getting me up.

R.I.P., Tim Curry

Man, he wasn't in a lot, but when he was there, you knew it.

The kind of thing I should have known

but didn't, to my great embarrassment.

Playing with words is a personal fave. I knew I wasn't alone in making things up, but I had no idea I was inheritor to such a long and glorious tradition.

Back in 1820s America, it was popular to mangle words, particularly substituting letters to make the language sound quaint or country (yes, it was a putdown then, too). Then, the new 'forms' were abbreviated.

Most of these forms disappeared, as slang tends to do (when did you last say '23-skidoo' or 'bee's knees'?), but one hung in there—OK, the abbreviated form of 'all correct' (I'll let you figure it out for yourself).

We have Martin VanBuren to thank for its longevity, apparently. When the eighth President of the United States was running for office, he was nicknamed 'Old Kinderhook.' Supporters formed 'OK' clubs, and members proclaimed themselves 'OK with OK' and so the phrase entered mainstream usage, reverting back to its original meaning of 'all correct.'

and thanks to John Gruber for rectifying.

Sign o' the...something?

I go to a 'neighborhood' i.e., closest, grocery store. Apparently I live in a 'demographically diverse' neighborhood, that skews a little bit towards the 'lower economic' end of the scale.

Now, there was a time when retail stores would have 'coupon machines' at the checkout that would monitor your purchases and spit out a ribbon of lightly printed (almost impossible to read) coupons related to what you just purchased—a competitor's products, or 'buy a whole bunch more of the same thing next visit' coupons, rarely if ever 'get 10% off next time you buy' coupons.

Well, that time is now again. I've noticed a couple of single coupons on recently, but last month, I got a string of coupons longer than the receipt, coupons that will go directly into the trash without even being looked at.

I've also noticed a lot more shelf stickers advertising 'BOGO' sales, or something similar, but now with fine print, saying it requires having an electronic coupon loaded from the website into the store's app, to be presented to the cashier, then adding and yet one more item to the checkout juggle, with ATM card, loyalty card, wallet, trying to unload the cart, loading bagged groceries back into the cart, and God forbid, trying to redeem coupons you got last week.

Anyway, I wonder if all this sudden coupon activity is a sign that folk are hurting economically, that there is stress in the economy, or if it's all just more posturing trying to convince us that our grocer is 'on our side.'

FWIW Update: I haven't received any coupons in the past couple of visits.

Filling more gaps in the ol' knowledge bank.

While conducting research for a poem (!?!), I came across a reference to the Leanan Sidhe (both a muse and demon), said to prey on artists, musicians, and writers looking for inspiration. She offers inspiration by asking the artist to be her lover, and shares her creativity, intellect, and magic. Then she leaves them and makes them so depressed they want to die.

Actually, I had met her, judging by the effects, but never knew her name. Leave it to the Irish to come up with a scourge focused specifically on artistic types.

Maybe it's just a way of culling the herd of wordsmiths in Ireland. As Lucille Clifton points out, in general,

Lately
everybody I meet
is a poet.

F.Y.I. (yours & mine).

There are 33 subgenres of fantasy writing, itself a subgenre of fantasy, itself a subgenre of fiction.

I'd be willing to bet that each of the 33 has a split between young adult (Y.A.) and regular, or adult.

The slotting of literature into genres and cascading subgenres is getting silly. At the end of the day, for me, it boils down to a good read (aka stuff I like) and 'why did I pick this up?' reading, destined for immediate placement in recycling.

Realization.

I've mentioned before about some family units that have 'family walks' in the neighborhood where the kids on tricycles and bicycles are spaced out halfway along the block and the parents are trailing far behind, walking dogs or strollers.

I've also talked about the good ol' days, where we would leave the house after breakfast, come home for lunch, and disappear again until dinner, without supervision.

Between then and now, helicopter parents intruded, and the whole 'everybody on the street is out to snatch my kid' feardome environment festered.

I wonder if the 'kids spread out movement' is a small step toward redressing the imbalance?

Just how big is that wallet?

AARP warns about the 15 Worst Things to Carry in Your Wallet.

Or course, these are just the worst. AARP, being diligent, adds some bonus 'worse' items to not carry.

Turns out I have none of those things in my wallet. I had a Starbucks gift card, but I found somebody who actually drinks Starbucks that could use it.

Let me count the ways Grunge is wrong.

I was born at the front end of the 'baby boomer' generation, during the Truman Administration. By the time I hit the music listening stage, dancing and discovering that girls didn't have cooties, music was heavy into the folk scene, the surf sound, the Wall of Sound, Motown, and the flotilla that carried the British Invasion was anchored just off the coast.

So I was in a state of shock (disbelief? bemusement?) when I read 5 Doo-Wop Songs That Take Boomers Right Back To Roller Rink Nights.

So to summarize: Of the five songs listed:

• I recognized the names of three
• I could scare up a couple of lines of one or two songs
• I listened to none then or now, even at a roller rink.

If you're going to make fun of us, at least get the facts right.

Absolutely no point.

CNBC passes along Flesh-eating screwworm is confirmed in the U.S., officials say.

I have nothing to add except that 'Flesh-Eating Screwworms' is a great name for a rock band.

115.

My 'composition process' follows a pretty standard pattern:

• Get an idea.
• Write the idea down, most likely on my tablet or on a piece of paper (which is preferred but less common these days)
• Start developing the idea, if there is a path forward, or other ideas get attached
• At some point, start developing another idea.
• Copy other items, like recipes, quotations, etc.
• Leave completed items like blog posts, and incomplete items, like items where enthusiasm has waned, sitting in the composition folder.
• Remove items when they're ready for formatting or been used for another purpose.
• Be really surprised when one day you notice you have 115 items in the folder. Some items have subitems, like poems, quotations and subtitles. Items also include recipes for food I will never make, snippets of html/css code, and inspirational sayings I found on the way to looking something else up.
• Too many of the items are of the abandoned variety, something that prompts a 'what was I thinking?' response when I look at it now, or worse, 'that was a good idea. Why did I abandon it?'

Of course, 'get an idea' can jump from the first spot to anyplace in the food chain, starting the whole process over again.

Bottom line: I have been a lot busier and productive than I thought. The muse has been good to me.

But now, alas, it's time to triage. Wish me luck.