POP! GOES THE WEASEL.

We all sang it and jumped rope to it when we were kids. Well, sometimes I forget what generation I’m in. But, surely we’ve all HEARD the song.

“All around the cobbler's bench,
The monkey chased the weasel,
the monkey stopped to pull up his sock.
Pop! goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread,
a penny for a needle.
That’s the way the money goes.
Pop! goes the weasel.

I knew what a weasel was since we had chickens and weasels are as clever as foxes at breaking into the chicken coop. My dad would point out their tracks and curse them vehemently.

There are many verses sung in various parts of the world. The song actually originated in London in 1852. Most of the verses were sort of ribald tales of “where the money goes…as in carousing, gambling, drinking, and worse..”

As it turns out, the rollicking little song isn’t about a chicken eating weasel either. The usual chorus in London was,

Up and down the City Road,
In and out the Eagle,
That’s the way the money goes-
Pop! goes the weasel.

The Eagle was a well known London music hall where drinks were sold. The weasel was a tool used by hatters, often pawned on Saturday night. Pop was a slang term for hock.

Hmmm! Now I know Pop goes the weasel wasn’t an American jump rope song, nor a simple fun rhyme that was easy to make up verses to match it.  It was an adult fun ditty.  And,  now you know too.

HAIL, CHOWDER AND RUNNING

It was a chowder kind of day. The cold, rain and then a blast of hail covering the plants on the deck. It melted quickly into this slush.
Out of the blue, A guy, or a gal by the name of Chris zapped me a great recipe for razor clams, how to prepare them and how to add them into a chowder. You cut them finely while frozen and add them at the end of the chowder. Do-Not-Boil! Chris was giving me a hand because I failed razor clam cooking 101 last year while in Washington. Thanks, Chris. whoever you are.  I just opened the can today but I'm game to try your method when I return to Washington.

   Earlier in the day, I met an old friend who spent at least 40 years running. Mel and his wife Victoria, have led this enviable, fascinating life, literally running thousands of miles across the United States, New Zealand, Austraila, England and Hawaii. Mel, (I believe he told me he is closing in on 90) doesn't have a bend in his back.  He doesn't show his age, but he does spend part of his day running around on a "portable roadster" he jokes. He and Victoria are writing their memoirs. Victoria won many races in the over 60 category, "simply because not many women over 60 run," she claims.
 I remember from many old conversations the astonishment with which people greeted them, simply because they were walking the long strip of asphalt more suited to trucks. People were warm and supportive where ever they stopped. In England, they visited the Queen's stables and visited her horses, quite by accident. In Coos Bay, they bumped into a guy who had traveled 25,000 miles in a canoe.

"O', the places we've been and the things we've seen!"  I know that's a line from a poem.
Victoria says its like living those marvelous times all over again to go through the journals and put pen to paper, that is,  fingers to keyboard.

I'll keep you posted. Mel and Victoria live in Murphys and ran with the Arnold Running Club for many years. They quit running at ages 80 and 83.