the Edwardian firecracker

Does it say something about the beckoning day when I wake up with the child's nursery rhyme...?

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And everything nice
And that's what little girls are made of.

And what are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy dogs' tails.
And that's what little boys
Are made of.

Time has passed since that rhyme-time.

The generalization I can't seem to shake these days is,

"Men do the imagining; women clean up the mess."

It may not be true, but it's pretty close and "pretty close" does count in horse shoes, another aged pastime.

And another pin ball rucketing around in my mind of late is finding my place along the educated book shelf:

When I was in college, I decided I would not major in philosophy (logic was too damnably mathematical) and would major in French instead and thus be freed up to take the fun philosophy courses that attracted me. French was comparatively easy in my book and it was within its wiles that I encountered a place that seemed to fit me.

In French, there were two versions of "you." There was "vous," which was formal and respectful and there was "tu" -- a diminutive applied to children and beloved counterparts. "Je t(u)'aime was a sweet way of saying "I love you." And you might think that "je t'aime" would be applied to the latest beloved person. But I recognized that what suited me was "je vous aime," a way of expressing love and respect in a single sweep. An Edwardian correctness. A bit Brit.

Edwardian ... dressed to the nines and hot as a firecracker.

Je vous aime.

Muddling and mumbling... for the moment, as Emily Litella might say, "Never miiiind!"

I was interrupted and lost the strand..... "to be cont'd" perhaps.