A Brand New Year

Hip hip hooray! We made it through 2016. Now there’s a whole new year on the horizon. I am not saying it will be better or it will be worse. All I am saying is there’s 365 days ahead of us and we get a new start. It’s my hope that one of your New Year’s Goals is to continue to check out Uncle Bardie’s Stories & Such.

Before I go into my hashing and rehashing, I just want all of you, my friends, to know how much I appreciate all that you do. Blogging for me is like being a member of a large circle of a community.

I try to keep up with the posts in my Reader. In addition, late at night when moi has a case of the insomnias, I go roving through the posts of people who have given me a like or a comment. That’s a great way to find new blogs. I may not follow you or make comments on your latest blog posts but I am grateful for the posts. And for your generosity.

Only another blogger would understand how much work and thought goes into each post. We send them out into the world with hope that they will find a friend or two and touch someone with a blessing. Your generosity and your hard work is much appreciated from this end of the galaxy.

Now for some hashing and rehashing. Over the past two and a half years, I have had the great pleasure of giving you Stories & Such. I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I have making them.

For the last year or so, Uncle Bardie posted five posts a week. Sundays have been a free-for-all anything-goes kind of post. Mondays a weekly movie. Wednesdays an on-going novel called “Politics in America” and the Man from Weazel Sneeze. Thursdays a weekly music selection. And Fridays a Creative Artist.

Uncle Bardie’s been doing a heap of thinking lately. That means that he’s been ramming his head against the wall to shake his brain loose. Long time ago Uncle Bardie started with three posts a week. Beginning this week, he will return to three posts a week.

Why cut back? Doing five posts a week consumes a lot of seconds and minutes and hours. I have come to realize that it’s time to get on with some longer writing projects. I have several long stories and a novel that needs serious editing. Only by cutting back on the posting can I get to those projects.

So here’s the plan. Sundays will continue to be a free-for-all. Fridays will combine three weekly posts–Friday’s Creator Corner, the Weekly Music Pick and the Movie of the Week–into one and retitle the new post “Uncle Bardie’s Spotlight”. Each week will feature one of the three on a rotating basis with an occasional re-ordering to honor someone or something specific or just because I want to be ornery that week.

Wednesdays are for an on-going project. In 2014, I spent a year of Wednesdays creating short stories in response to a series of short story prompts. Fifty-five to be exact. 2015’s Wednesdays were a humorous look at “Hamlet”. 2016 brought y’all “Politics in America”, a satirical response to the presidential campaign. Come February 1 of the new year that will sink over the horizon Titanic-style.

But Wednesday’s comedy will not be over. On top of that, it will not end. There will be more comedy. As Zero Mostel sang in “A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum”, there will continue to be comedy.

That comedy will come in the form of a very loosely based historical humorous novel called “The Absolutely Unbelievable Extraordinary of Lady Wimpleseed Prissypotte”.

The Adventures take place at the end of the nineteenth century. The daughter of a rich American is pressured into marrying a British Lord. Momsie wants a title in the fam. The Lord the daughter marries has one foot in the cemetery and one in the grave. In chapter three, her new hubby croaks in a bowl of soup. Suddenly the heroine doesn’t know what to do with herself, so she goes in pursuit of True Love. Or at least a good orgasm.

The novel has bandits, Mata Hari, Tarzan, big game hunters, Queen Victoria and three of the nicest ghosts ever to haunt a British manor house. If that wasn’t enough, it has mud pies, steamboats, and Istanbul. Loosely based on the old serial, “The Perils of Pauline”, it was a lot of fun to write. I hope it’s as much fun to read.

I want to close out this post by wishing you a Happy New Year for 2017. And leave you with the wonderful Renee Fleming singing Cesar Franck’s “Panis Angelicus”.

 

Uncle Bardie’s Second Blogoversary

I want to thank all the followers and readers of this blog. You are the reason I continue to dance the light fantastic. You are indeed the cat’s pajamas. Thank you. Now for something special. Here’s how my day is going.

As the song says, we’ve come a long way, you and I. It’s been a long and winding road. It’s like we’ve almost made it across the universe. In the beginning, there were those who said, “Let it be”. There are still unbelievers who want me to get back. They are afraid someone is going to crucify me. I keep telling them that I have enough instant karma to make it through the night. Then I give them a high five and ask them to give peace a chance.

I gotta tell you that there are days I am like the Nowhere Man on Penny Lane, heading for Strawberry Fields. There are other days I feel like I am back in the USSR. Instead of getting a Dear John letter, somebody keeps sending me a Dear Prudence message, saying, “I want to hold your hand.” It always ends with “p.s. I love you.” I do want you to know that I work eight days a week, each day a hard day’s night to make this a good blog, one that is entertaining and fun.

I woke up this morning with good morning, good morning ringing in my head as the alarm keeps shouting, “It’s getting better. All the time.” ‘Bout that time, my next door neighbor knocks on my door and sings, “Yer having a birthday.” The phone rings and you’ll never guess who is on the line. Michelle, that’s who. Makes me long for yesterday. Guess it’s going to be just another day in the life.

Go into the kitchen and fix my usual breakfast: a big stack of lucy-in-the-sky-with-diamonds. Mmmmm, good. While I enjoy the stack, I think about what I am going to do for the benefit of Mr. Kite. After all, I know perfectly well he helped me when I was in need of a little help from my friends. I stack the dishes in the sink, look out the window, and you know what. I can’t believe it. Here comes the sun. It is going to be another good day sunshine.

I walk out to water my octopus’ garden in the shade. I am feeling pretty frisky. That Maxwell’s silver hammer banging in my head has gone away. I look across the road and see Polythene Pam. I want to say something to be neighborly. After all, her majesty’s a pretty nice girl, but she doesn’t have a lot to say. If I wasn’t dating Lovely Rita, maybe I would get up the nerve and ask her out. I hear she is something of a paperback writer.

I return to the inside of my house. There in the living room sits my mother, Julia. “Hey, Jude,” she says to me. She always calls me Jude.

“How did you get in here?”

“I came in through the bathroom window. You know you need to quit being such a fool on the hill.”

“Mom, you keep doing that and you know I am going to have to hire the Taxman.” I say that so she will realize she can’t buy me love.

“Why can’t we just come together?” she asks, giving me that Eleanor Rigby smile of hers.

“Look, I am not going to fake that revolution you keep asking for.”

“If you did,” she says, “you’d have to run for your life.”

“All things must pass,” I assure her.

“All you need is love,” she says.

“Well, baby, you’re a rich man too.”

“When I’m sixty-four, will you still love me?” she asks. Then that is that. The day tripper is out of there, making me dizzy Miss Lizzy. I yell after her, “Hello goodbye.”

I call Doctor Robert. He says, “Don’t bother me.”

“I dig it,” and I hang up.

So I go out and drive my car. Some guy almost swipes me. I yell, “Don’t pass me by.” I come upon some workers fixing a hole. I turn onto Blue Jay Way, looking for some help. Feeling helter skelter, I am wondering who is going to help me carry that weight. Feels like I am…here, there and everywhere.

I pull up to Lovely Rita’s front door and knock, my knock saying, “I got to get you into my life.” She opens the door and smiles. “Hello, little girl,” I say and give her a hug.

She pushes me away. “Honey, don’t.”

“I am the Walrus and I wanna be your man.”

“Well,” she says, “I’m happy just to dance with you.”

“You know you’re such a Lady Madonna. Why don’t you join me on my magical mystery tour?”

“I called you last night and I got no reply,” disappointment on her face.

“Aw c’mon, Sexy Sadie. You’re my honey pie. It’s something in the way you move.”

We go to this little out-of-the-way place called the Glass Onion. Maggie Mae, the waitress, comes by and takes our orders. I order an I-me-mine. They have the best anywhere around.Lovely Rita orders the one-after-909. We laugh. “Oh, darling,” she said, “you do love your I-me-mines, don’t you?”

“It reminds me of the day Mean Mr. Mustard left the neighborhood.”

“He thought he was a Mother Nature’s son, all those goats in his yard.”

The Savoy Truffle step to the stage and do their only hit, “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey”.

“You know,” she says, “I never really liked that song. It is long, long, long.”

” It’s only a northern song.”

We leave and continue the continuing story of Bungalow Bill. It’s like they say, “Happiness is a warm gun.” Well, obladi-oblada we are watching the yellow submarine at Pepperland. She leans over to my ear and whispers, “I guess we can work it out.”

At the end of the day, the last thing she says to me, “You’ve really got a hold on me.” That’s when I realize that I would not lose that girl.

It’s the end of another day and I’m so tired. So good night one and all. I’m off for some golden slumbers. If you see Rocky Racoon, tell him Uncle Bardie says hey.

The End.