It’s WHAT Day?

I am a blogger in my day job, if not by title then surely by osmosis. I write blogs that relate to the nine or so catalogs we publish. Usually the topics are pretty general…March is Youth Art Month for Arts & Crafts, Warm Ups and Cool Downs for PE, Merrily We Rover Along for Science. They are short, informational, and I hope fun to read.

Sometimes I go to the website Holiday Insights  to get ideas for different sorts of holidays my teachers and readers can identify with, like Pi Day March 14th. And there are days in there I can see celebrating like Brothers and Sisters Day and Sally Ride Day.

Then, of course, there are those which have no explanation. Who or how these days were chosen to be celebrated I have no idea. And some I don’t want to know. So I will share these mysteries with you, along with the links (just click the day) so you can wonder along with me.

January

2nd – Run up the Flagpole and See if Anyone Salutes Day

3rd – Fruitcake Toss Day

7th – Old Rock Day

11th – Step in a Puddle and Splash Your Friend’s Day

21st – Squirrel Appreciation Day

February

3rd – Eat Ice Cream for Breakfast Day

7th – Wave All you Fingers at Your Neighbor Day

11th –Don’t Cry over Spilled Milk Day

13th –Get a Different Name Day

20th – Hoodie Hoo Day

March

3rd – If Pets Had Thumbs Day

7th – National Crown Roast of Pork Day

15th – Everything You Think is Wrong Day

16th – Everything You Do is Right Day

20th – Extraterrestrial Abductions Day

29th – Smoke and Mirrors Day

April

3rd – Don’t Go to Work Unless it’s Fun Day

4th – World Rat Day

4th – Walk Around Things Day

13th – Blame Someone Else Day

16th – National Eggs Benedict Day

26th – Richter Scale Day

May

3rd – Lumpy Rug Day

4th – International Tuba Day 

9th – Lost Sock Memorial Day

11th – Twilight Zone Day

14th – Dance Like a Chicken Day

22th – World Goth Day

June

1st –Flip a Coin Day

13th –National Weed Your Garden Day

16th – National Hollerin’ Contest Day

19th – Juneteenth

19th – World Sauntering Day

22ns – Take Your Dog to Work Day

July

2nd – I Forgot Day

3rd –Compliment Your Mirror Day

3rd – Embrace Your Geekness Day

15th –Be a Dork Day

17th – Yellow Pig Day

27th – Take Your Houseplants for a Walk Day

August

5th – National Underwear Day

6th – Wiggle Your Toes Day

8th – Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Day

27th – Just Because Day

28th – Race Your Mouse Day

September

2nd –Internaional Bacon Day

5th – Be Late for Something Day

7th – Neither Rain nor Snow Day

22nd –International Rabbit Day

28th – Ask a Stupid Question Day

October

2nd- Name Your Car Day

3rd –Virus Appreciation Day

8th – American Touch Tag Day

9th – Moldy Cheese Day

10 th – Take Your Teddy Bear to Work Day

14th – Be Bald and Free Day

21th – Count Your Buttons Day

November

2nd –Look for Circles Day

6th – Marooned without a Compass Day

9th – Chaos Never Dies Day

15th – Clean Your Refrigerator Day

19th – Have a Bad Day Day

30th – Stay At Home Because You Are Well Day

December

1st – Eat a Red Apple Day

3rd –National Roof over Your Head Day

6th – Put on your own Shoes Day

6th –  National Chocolate Covered Anything Day

11th – National Noodle Ring Day

30th –National Bicarbonate of Soda Day

Which day are YOU going to celebrate?

Keep A Calendar — Or A Muse

I am feeling a bit under the weather this eve. I went through my back stories looking for something else (always the case) and found this fun blog from a few years ago. Seems like it’s perfect for my feelin’ down time…

Calendar Girls

My Irish Wench Muse came to visit me last night. She was all full of her usual Irish self. I wasn’t writing or researching or hanging with my family, so I knew something was up.

“Read yer blog the other day,” she said, smiling, wiping the kitchen table off.

“Oh? Great! Which one?”

“The whinneh one.”

I should have been upset, but how can you be upset at your truthful conscience?

“Whiny? Why was it whiny?”

“A lotta ‘I wants’ and “I’ canna haves’. And no solution. What kenna blog is that?”

I sat straighter in my chair, watching her bend over a drop of gravy and start to scrape it. “Hey! All bloggers get down now and then. It’s part of the creative process!”

“Aye, and a lotta bees sting people when they’re nah looking, too. And they still manage to make the honey.”

I had to see where this was going and fast.

“Well, I didn’t see it as whining. I saw it as voicing the universal truth of too much to do and not enough time to do it all.”

“Nay — the ‘Universal Truth’ is more like ‘Leave your dog inside too long and he’s bound ta poop somewhere.’ That’s why you need a calendar, lass.”

“I already have a calendar at work. And it’s packed full.”

“Do you get everything done on the calendar?”

“Well, duh. It’s work.”

“Then, my darlin’ writer, you need a calendar at home, too. A Grand Poobah Calendar.”

 What is that?”

My muse finished scraping the drip and headed towards the crack between the leafs. A dangerous area. “The term is from one of those operas. The Poobah has all the titles and ‘na much else.”

I didn’t get what that had to do with me and my whining…er…woes.

“If  ya canna make time in your head, write it down. Make the time on the calendar,” she explained, pulling out a butter knife to scrape the caverns between leaves. “Makes ya look important.”

“But that means I’d have to be — organized! How can a pretzel be organized?”

She shook her head between grunts. Must have been extra crumbs down the crack.

“How does the Gran’ Poobah get things done? Too many titles, too little authority. At least if he writes the bloomin’ things down he can see what he wants to do first. And he can pretend to do everything, even if he gets only a few things done.”

Well, that made sense. I helped her scrape the bread crumbs out of the crack and she smiled her little Irish smile.

“You’ve just got to know how to do a calendar, luv. Jam it with all sorts of rot.  Then when you start the day, start crossin’ off. Lines through rot are good for the soul! Makes you pick and choose your rot!” She spit on a slide of old milk. “You know, I may be a muse but I’ve got other ‘tings I have to do too. I canna babysit you all the time. “

I nodded sheepishly.

“I’m yer creative Muse, ya know. A lot of work goes into finding projects for you and fillin’ your head with ideas and suggestions. Makes my beer turn green half the time!”

“Well,” I said, “you know I love your company. And your ideas. I wish I would have listened to you 20 years ago, before I had grandkids.”

She threw out a hearty laugh. “Darlin’ 20 years ago you had your own kids, and were just as busy! and 20 years before that! ‘Ya dinna have time back then either. But you kept the calendar. In yer head.”

“I get it. I get it. Make a calendar. Put it all down. Bring your plans out of the 4th dimension in to this 3rd dimension so I can get a handle on it and do a little bit of everything instead of none of a lot. I get it.”

She nodded and stood. She was beautiful — green eyes, full figure, Irish brogue and all. “Aye. And donna forget — I’m riding up to the cabin with you this weekend. I’ve got a great idea for a poem! Oh, and my sister from Italy is comin’ too! She’s got this wild idea about manicotti  and pirates and diamonds and …”

Uh oh…

 

Calendar Girls

thMy Irish Wench Muse came to visit me last night. She was all full of her usual Irish self. I wasn’t writing or researching or hanging with my family, so I knew something was up.

“Read yer blog the other day,” she said, smiling, wiping the kitchen table off.

“Oh? Great! Which one?”

“The whinneh one.”

I should have been upset, but how can you be upset at your truthful conscience?

“Whiny? Why was it whiny?”

“A lotta ‘I wants’ and “I’ canna haves’. And no solution. What kenna blog is that?”

I sat straighter in my chair, watching her bend over a drop of gravy and start to scrape it. “Hey! All bloggers get down now and then. It’s part of the creative process!”

“Aye, and a lotta bees sting people when they’re nah looking, too. And they still manage to make the honey.”

I had to see where this was going and fast.

“Well, I didn’t see it as whining. I saw it as voicing the universal truth of too much to do and not enough time to do it all.”

“Nay — the ‘Universal Truth’ is more like ‘Leave your dog inside too long and he’s bound ta poop somewhere.’ That’s why you need a calendar, lass.”

“I already have a calendar at work. And it’s packed full.’

“Do you get everything done on the calendar?”

“Well, duh. It’s work.”

“Then, my darlin’ writer, you need a calendar at home, too. A Grand Poobah Calendar.”

Tickle me with an oak leaf. That’s how much sense she made. “A calendar I get. But a Grand Poobah Calendar? What is that?”

Viola finished scraping the drip and headed towards the crack between the leafs. A dangerous area. “The term is from one of those operas. The Poobah has all the titles and ‘na much else.”

I didn’t get what that had to do with me and my whining…er…woes.

“If  ya canna make time in your head, write it down. Make the time on the calendar,” she explained, pulling out a butter knife to scrape the caverns between leafs.

“But that means I’d have to be — organized! How can a pretzel be organized?

She shook her head between grunts. Must have been extra crumbs down the crack.

“How does the Gran’ Poobah get things done? Too many titles, too little authority. At least if he writes the bloomin’ things down he can see what he wants to do first. And he can pretend to do everything, even if everything is 5 or 10 minutes a day.”

Well, that made sense. I helped her scrape the bread crumbs out of the crack and she smiled her little Irish smile.

“You’ve just got to know how to do a calendar, luv. Jam them with all sorts of rot.  Then when you start the day, start crossin’ off. Lines through rot are good for the soul! Makes you pick and choose your rot!” She spit on a slide of old milk. ” You know, I may be a muse but I’ve got other ‘tings I have to do too. I canna babysit you all the time. ”

I nodded sheepishly.

“I’m yer creative Muse, ya know. A lot of work goes into finding projects for you and fillin’ your head with ideas and suggestions. Makes my brown beer turn green half the time!”

“Well,” I said, “you know I love your company. And your ideas. I wish I would have listened to you 20 years ago, before I had grandkids.”

She threw out a hearty laugh. “Darlin’ 20 years ago you had your own kids, and were just as busy! and 20 years before that! Where do you think all that stencillin’ you did at the B&B came from? Or those sky space paintings from yer youth? Or that story you wrote about you and that English guitar player — Paul? Or that story about the beep bopin’ alien growning his own…”

“I get it. I get it. Make a calendar. Put it all down. Bring your plans out of the 4th dimension in to this 3rd dimension so I can get a handle on it and do a little bit of everything instead of none of a lot. I get it.”

Viola nodded and stood. She was beautiful — green eyes, full figure, Irish brogue and all.

“Donna forget — I’m riding up to the cabin with you this weekend. I’ve got a great idea for a poem! Oh, and my sister from Italy is comin’ too! She noticed you have a bare wall downstairs, and she’s oh-so-up with Italian Frescoes!”

UhOh..