Great wording here. This must be attributed to James Thurber, who used the above words to indicate when his central character was going off on a flight of fancy. It has a nice ring to it and makes for a good transition.

Me, it’s always ta pocketa, ta pocketa. I’d like to own or co-own the Eagle Hotel and have enough space for all the incoming books, all the time. I’d also like for there to be enough room for a literacy center.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. I’d like to have two more Icelandic horses, and also breed at least one I have on hand. I’d like to have ample pasturage, a barn, and hay fields. I’d also be up for having a heated barn with large stalls, and an unending source of straw, so that the horses could, if they wanted, lay down and be comfortable.

Pete in the old plow truck

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. A must. A state of the art goat milking parlor and a handful of goats.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. At least one more border collie. Must be a female, and very, very young.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. At least two more chickens. Young ones that have been socialized.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. A house or cabin large enough to accommodate enough bookshelves for all my books. Something on the order of the late Susan Harris’s den, one in which there was enough wall space for her collection of horse books.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. Friends to ride on the trails. Unreal. Right now I don’t have any horsey friends. They all moved away. Even Vicki who lived a short distance from me. One good friend would suffice.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. A proper fitting saddle for Tyra.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. A Centered riding instructor, one who likes and understands Icelandic horses.

Ta Pocketa, ta pocketa. A hot tub. I like the one at the Palmer pool, but the water isn’t quite hot enough. How wonderful it would be to be able to soak and watch the northern lights at the same time.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. Someone to tend to and watch the horses so that Pete and I might get away for a weekend.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. An imagination that rivals that of James Thurber.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. No more dental pain. Ever.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. The ability to understand quantum physics.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. Pete, cloned.

Ta Pocketa, ta pocketa. To hear that the election results were rigged and that Kamala Harris really did win the presidential election.

Ta Pocketa, ta pocketa. For Lisa Murkowski to call and say, “come on down to Washington, D.C, that the book inventory is such that there is an overabundance of books.”

Ta Pocketa, ta pocketa. For Tyra to again have solid poop.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. To no longer suffer from insomnia.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa. To again be able to run.

Ta pocketa, ta pocketa, ta pocketa, ta pocketa. To go to Iceland where a portion of the Life of Walter Mitty was filmed.

Next: 306. 11/10/24: Get Along Little Doggie