Soothing The Raptorous Soul

Last night I sat here in the rocker which I’ve placed into eternal dibs with the TharpSter command center (my laptop) in my lap watching a movie.  I had the noise cancelling headphones on so as to drown out whatever Wifey and the dogs were watching on the TV.


Wifey then started to wave at me as the pirated movie I was watching began to display it’s opening credits in what I’m guessing was Italian.


Honestly, that drives me crazy.


Not the fact that I can’t find a good quality, pirated movie on the internet with English titles, mind you.  The inevitable interruptions which accompany my feeble attempts to enter into some semblance of sensory deprivation are usually what baffle and befuddle me.


Never a day go by in the domain here that I sit down, announce that I’ll be introducing copious amounts of noise into my skull, proceed to play said noise, that I don’t get interrupted by someone who has something to say.


Case in point, it *just* happened as I was typing that last sentence.


I swear, if I didn’t have my tunes and my writing, you’d hear stories about me sitting in a tower with a high powered t-shirt gun and a water balloon launcher.


Anyway, last night’s waving which interrupted my desire to catch up on the going’s-on within MI-6 were to call my attention to the dulcet tones coming from Junior’s bedroom.


That’s right.  I just used the word ‘dulcet’ for the second day in a row here on TharpSter.Org.  Once more, and we may have a trend upon us.


Junior’s home for Thanksgiving break, and was playing his viola.  He’s been playing for six years now and is quite talented at it.  I had forgotten in the last several months since he left for college just how good he was.


As I poked my head into his room to throw him an “atta-boy”, I found that he had his back turned to the door and never saw me arrive.  That obviously presented a wonderful opportunity to steal a picture or two for later use.


The dinosaur appears to have found the tones to be soothing too, as he held still for the picture.



Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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