Last Post

Sorry, but I had to delete the last post. The darn thing just could not be corrected.

Anyway, I passed along this award to several chosen individuals I believe deserve it.

I haven't the time to list all of the links this evening...visitors, but will try and do so tomorrow.

Again, I'm sorry.

Stephen

Reading Material

I made a promise to list the books I read while under captivity. I believe it was to my friend, 45er. Anyway, here's the list.

I couple of these were downloaded on my Kindle.

'As Wind in Dry Grass,' by H. Grant Llewellyn. Apocalyptic fiction...not for the faint of heart, but a good story none the less.

'High Desert Barbecue,' by J.D. Tuccille. Not bad, not good. When you're bored out of your friggen mind you'll read whats available..it was recommended so I was stuck with it.

For the foodies out there, 'Nobody Knows The Truffles I've Seen,' by George Lang. This is a biography of the great restauranteur, Lang. The first section of the book deals with the atrocities, lives of the Hungarian Jews, at the hands of the Nazis leading up to and during World War two.  Yes, I've eclectic taste in literature.

I was well into, 'Deep Winter' by Thomas Sherry when I was discharged/escaped from the hospital. It was my forth or fifth reading. Highly recommended. It suffers for the lack of edit work, but its still a good adventure. Again, apocalyptic fiction set in eastern Washington State.

Soft jazz is playing in the background, the coffee hot and fresh, and I'm at peace. I wish the same for you. God bless.

Stephen

Quiet Morning

I've next to nothing to say this morning...it's quiet and I'm soaking in the peace of it. Sweet Wife has returned to work. This is the first time in about twelve days I've been alone. The day nurse arrives later this morning to change my bandages, poke and prod, and repack.

She still has a hard time understanding the shelves of books. She asked me why certain volumes were dressed in archival plastic. I explained the books in question are first editions. Blank stare. So I changed direction and told her they were special and the plastic gave the books protection.

"Protection from what? They're just books."

"The elements, people's dirty hands, dust."

Blink, blink. Cow eyes.

"Are 'da expensive?"

I pointed towards one, said, "That book only had a first printing of two thousand copies. Half went to libraries. The others were sold from the trunk of the author's vehicle. Half of those were destroyed by misuse. I only know of two on the market. I own one. That book is worth two grand."

"Sweet Jesus Christ Almighty, a book be worth 'dat much money?"

"Yes." I said. She shakes her head and mumbled, "I done heard it all now."

Me too.

I'm several chapters behind on The Union Creek Journal, and with all this silence, I'll have a chance to jump back into the adventure. You can find the story, here.

If conditions warrant, I might just sneak outside and pop some squirrels from my garage. My trigger finger is itchy.  

Later, it's time for another cup of coffee. Take care, my friends.

Stephen