ROBBIE THE ROBOT – Marilyn Armstrong

RDP Saturday – ROBOT


One day, some years back,  the mailperson delivered a copy of a wildly expensive catalogue store in Manhattan. For more than $3000. they were offering a full-size version of Robbie the Robot.

The catalogue model was bigger than a normal human and featured the robotic performer — statuesque — who was a top draw on one TV show I never watched as well as the dearly beloved movie “Forbidden Planet,” a feature that fits neatly into my guilty pleasure film genre.

I believe Robbie also did a few other performances in other science fiction movies.

However huge the model, he didn’t do anything but stand in a corner and gather dust. I wanted him.

At that price, he was completely out of the question and he was huge.  We can barely fit our existing stuff into this house, which is much too big for us, yet is simultaneously not big enough.

I decided there had to be an old-style version of Robbie in a size and price I could manage.  Through the good offices of the “used/vintage” section of Amazon, I found this guy.

He is one of the originals from the 1970s and he works. He talks (badly and muffled) and he walks. Actually, he shuffles in a somewhat forward direction, then falls flat on his face.

I love him anyway. He is my favorite robot. He is my robot.

About a month after I overpaid for this vintage Robbie. His date of manufacture is on the box — which is put away somewhere safe. I’m pretty sure I know where the box is. I am pretty sure where the box is, but this is n0t the same as really sure. My memory is only 15 seconds long these days.

Robbie is always with us. He stands on the coffee table much of the time, on the top of the huge dog crate and occasionally on some other surface, but he is always out where I can see him. No safe place for HIM. He lives with us. Our guy.

Garry went to turn off the “night-light” we leave on in the living room overnight and knocked him over. He’s not hard to knock over because his balance is bad, but at least Garry could deliver him for a few extra shots of Robbie in all his glory.

Our own Robbie. He can’t do anything much, but he not much of a robot, either. But I love, love, love him.

WHISTLE AND GO FISHING IN HEAVEN – REBLOG – JOHN PRINE

Since we are into “round and round” this morning, just ONE more and one of my very favorite songs. Is it country music? Or just great music? How many songs make you cry and laugh at the same time? This one does! I loved John Prine. He’s making a bit of a comeback. He had some serious cancer and has not fully recovered, but he still has that wonderful gritty voice … and lucky for us, he was as much a composer as singer and this is a special song. 

Another one going round and round!


John Prine singing “That’s the way that the world goes round.”

A sentiment … several sentiments … to which I can really relate. John Prine. Singing (well, you know, it’s John Prine so it’s singing, sort of) one of my favorites. Musical philosophy.

The meaning of life according to John Prine.

 

SoCS — ROUND AND ROUND, PERRY COMO – REBLOG – FANDANGO

Can two minds thing MORE alike? I remember this song because I had it on a 45 RPM. Remember then? I had a little record player and a pile of records in every color of the spectrum. I always like Perry Como, though I never understood how come he could sing with his teeth apparently clenched.

FOWC with Fandango — Highway
(ROUND & ROUND)


 

This, That, and The Other

When I saw Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, which is to “use the word ‘round’ as a word by itself or find a word that contains it,” the first thing that came to mind was “a round tuit,” as in “I’ll get around to it.” But then I realized that I already wrote a post about round tuits. In fact, that post, which you can read here, was written for one of Linda’s One-Liner Wednesday prompts. So there goes that idea.

The next thing that came to mind was the saying, “What goes around comes around.” But guess what? I wrote this post for a Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt. Sheesh! Another idea down the drain.

So now what? Think, Fandango. Oh wait, I got it! And I bet only those of you out there who are as old as I am will relate to my SoCS…

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SEPTEMBER WITH A PINK WILDFLOWER – Marilyn Armstrong

FIRST PINK SQUARE PICTURE OF SEPTEMBER!


Can you believe it’s September? How did that happen?

But today, as we were driving from town to town, seeing doctors, picking up prescriptions, stopping home to grab lunch and out again, I noticed that trees are beginning to change color. Not masses of them, but some. I saw a yellow one, a red one, and a mixed one with more red than green.

So despite the fact that it has been insanely hot and we are expecting more heat next week, fall will relentlessly arrive anyway. Because the seasons will have their way with the year, as time will have its way with our bodies.

We took pictures by the farm around the corner and there were wild, pink flowers growing along the edge of the field where the cows were grazing. Such a pretty pink, so I made them square.

Pink wildflowers by the farm

HOW ARE YOUR YEARS? – Marilyn Armstrong

When I was in college, two of the women with whom I became friends were suicides. Neither of them was happy, but I would never have guessed either of them was suicidal.

One of them was just 19 when she killed herself. The other was 21.

I have never assumed “everything is fine” for anyone. Even when you ask, you will only know what you are told and that is rarely the whole truth. People are secretive about their deepest fears and thoughts.

“How are you?”

“Everything is fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“No, really. I’m fine.”

How many times do you ask before you realize you aren’t going to find out anything more? When people mention that aging makes them “think about mortality” I realize I began thinking about mortality when Karin died and then again when Anna jumped. Also when a young couple, just married, crashed their car into a truck and died on the highway.

Yet again, when my first husband got kidney cancer at 34 and lived, but still died young of heart disease and medical errors. Then my brother died of pancreatic cancer at 61. One of Garry’s colleagues — in her early 40s — died while waiting for a bus in Cambridge. When my first husband’s father died of his second heart attack at 52, I was pregnant and sorry he never met his grandson. For that matter, Jeff died at 53 and never met his granddaughter.

I knew a young person who died of a heart attack before age 21. Another internet friend, Rosa, died a month ago of a heart attack. I only found out yesterday when her mother called. She wasn’t yet 35.

And of course, there are all the friends our age who are battling cancer, dementia, heart conditions, not to mention the ones who have “beaten” cancer, but of course, you never really beat cancer. You are remitted and that will have to do.

When people complain about not being as active as they were when they were many years younger, I think they are missing the point. Age will have its way. How it hits you is partly a matter of how you used your body and your personal DNA. Depending on your constitution, your ability to walk, run, ride, or whatever you do may be compromised. Even eliminated.

But then again … are you breathing on your own? Do you get out of bed in the morning, even if it is a struggle? Do you find joy in your life? Do you laugh? Are there people you love who love you too? Is life interesting? Are you still curious to know what’s going to happen?

If any of these things are true, yay for you. You are alive.

Mortality is always with us, whether we are old or young. We may not be paying attention to it, or we may be under some delusion that we are exempt from “the end” because we exercise and eat right. But there will be an end.

Maybe, as Jeff used it say, it’ll be a runaway beer truck. Or something unexpectedly medical. It may be tomorrow or in 60 years. Whatever time you have, be gracious and grateful. Many people don’t get a life full of years. Others get the years and manage to be miserable through all of it.

Enjoy your years, however many you have.

BLACK & WHITE CHALLENGE: GLASS – Marilyn Armstrong

Outside with reflection

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Glass

Lots of glass. In fact, when I really looked closely, almost every picture had glass either as part of a picture or as the primary focal point for a shot.

I’m trying to use newer pictures, so all of these are from August or at the earliest, July. It was astonishing how many pictures include glass in the picture, from little bits to great sheets of it.

Glass. It’s how come your house isn’t dark all the time!

Glass brick entryway to Miss Mendon, the diner. Photo: Garry Armstrong

Out the diner window, a picture that looks entirely different in black & white than it did in color! Photo: Marilyn Armstrong

Black & white picture of the new camera taken with the older camera. Photo: Marilyn Armstrong

More “out the window” from the diner – Marilyn Armstrong

GIRLFRIEND OF THE WHIRLING DERVISH – Marilyn Armstrong

I always thought this goofy song was made up for a Looney Tunes cartoon. I vaguely remembered it as Daffy Duck, but it turned to be Porky Pig. Moreover, it’s a real song, written by Johnny Mercer et al. It has been performed by a variety of artists, including Bette Midler.

Why did this come up? Well, we were watching baseball and some dumb commentator referred to a player as “The Whirling Dervish.” And I started humming “She was the girlfriend of the whirling dervish …” and then, I simply had to find that cartoon.

After which, I had to find the song and the lyrics. It is still — even not as a cartoon — a silly song.



The Girl Friend of the Whirling Dervish

Song by Bette Midler

Lyrics:

One fine day, I chanced to stray
On a little side street in old Bombay
And met a sentimental oriental
She saw me and I saw she
Had a manner too bold and much too free
Her eyes were positively detrimental
When I asked about this gay coquette
I discovered much to my regret

She’s the girl friend of the whirling dervish
She’s the sweetest one he’s found
But ev’ry night, in the mellow moonlight
When he’s out dervishing with all his might
She gives him the run-around
All the boy friends of the whirling dervish
Are his best friends to his face
But there’s no doubt, when he isn’t about

They all come hurrying to take her out
She leads him a dizzy pace
He dreams of a Hindu honeymoon
He doesn’t dream that ev’ry night when he goes out
To make an honest rupee
She steps out to make a lotta whoopee
Oh, the love song of the whirling dervish
Has a sweet and tender sound

But will he burn if he ever should learn
That while he’s doing her a real good turn
She gives him the runaround
She’s got a nervish, throwin’ him a curvish
Which, of course, he doesn’t deservish
Poor old whirling dervish!


Songwriters: Johnny Mercer / Al Dubin / Harry Warren

The Girl Friend of the Whirling Dervish lyrics
© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc


So I decided to do it as a post. Because it’s silly and totally pointless and it makes me laugh.

These days, a laugh is about the only thing that really makes me feel better. It’s also the only thing that keeps me sane.