It's The Little Things

This morning when she walked from her father's house she was as cute as a button. She wore her school logo sweatshirt, her dark blue skorts with very colorful leggings. Her school shoes had a shine. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail and she carried a pillow pet. Purple. She walked directly to my leg and gave it my morning hug.

It was a morning for questions.

In the truck and down the road, "Papa, did you remember to bring my snacks?"

"Yes, Honey, Papa remembered."

"Rice Krispie Treats," I said yes. She squeals in delight. It's the little things...

When I turn the nose of the truck towards the sunrise, she takes her rose colored sunglasses (really, rose tinted) and puts them on and takes my arm and places it on her pillow pet, just so. I asked why she liked my arm, just so. "Because it makes me feel good, Papa."  I love this child.

Along the marsh the ducks and geese, as is their morning routine, move from the lake towards the river and we count their numbers. "Papa, why can't birds fly in reverse?"

"They can, Little Bit."

"How?"

"They just point their noses in the opposite direction."

"Oh."  Then, after a few moments of thought, "Papa, that's just silly." 

I agreed.

Soon we approach the second of two bridges, a special bridge. The pavement at the foot of the bridge has a slight rise and forms a 'fun' bump. When the bump is hit at the proper speed it gives one that slight 'belly drop' sensation. Little Bit loves it. Thing is, she always covers her face and never actually watches as we ride over the bump.

"Here it comes. Get ready."

She places her face deep into the pillow pet and begins an endless series of giggles. "Go fast, Papa, go fast."

Afterward, as her squeals of delight fade, "Papa, why does it make my tummy feel good?"

"Because, Honey, there's a little man in your tummy and when your tummy floats he reaches and tickles the bottom of your belly button."

Silence. Then a smile.

Then a frown.

In one rapid outburst, "Papa, what is debt? Because Daddy said he's got to go into debt and him and mommy fought about it last night and he made me go to my room and I didn't like it cause they screamed at each other and I cried, Papa."

Sigh.

"Little Bit."

She has her head back on the pillow pet, her friend, with her arms locked around mine. We're close to our destination. It was, such a nice morning.

"What, Papa."

I explained debt, and continued,  "Do you know why Daddy must go into debt?"

"They had a leak in their bedroom last week when it rained, Papa, and the rain leaked real bad and came down on their ceiling fan and the fan took the rain and slung the water all around in a big circle in the bedroom and soaked their bed, and they made me sleep on the couch and they took my bed, Papa, and I didn't like it."

She took a deep breath. She gives me her big brown eyes, and waits.

"So, you were able to camp out." She blinks. Then, "Oh, yeah, I did."

"Don't feel bad about Daddy sending you to your room, Sweetheart. When parents argue they forget about their children and seem to always ask them to go to their bedrooms. You're not in trouble. Mommy and Daddy just have a problem which will cost them a lot of money. Don't worry about it. Papa will help."

"Papa."

"What, Honey."

" Thank you, Papa, but I still need to know why birds can't fly in reverse."

I'll think of an answer, soon.


Stephen

This Old Gun

This pretty piece belongs to my good friend, ShooterSteve. I thought you nice men and lovely women would like to try and identify its make and caliber.

Above, the small handgun used for size comparison only.

Above, look closely at the hammer. See the pin.

The first person to identify the pistol gets one big 'attagirl' or 'attaboy.'

Have fun.

Stephen

Tomorrow, for sure

I'll post something. It's been two hard days filled with doctor visits and family hanging around my house driving me nuts. Love 'em, but enough is enough.

Spent the afternoon with Little Bit. She wore me out. I'll tell you about it in the morning if I have time. Now, I believe I'll listen to my old radio for a while then hit the sack and try and find dreamland.

By the way, Little Bit owes me ten 'slurpee' kisses and fifteen hugs...

I do have a gun post in mind. Another mystery challenge.

Later,

Stephen

Isn't It The Truth

Shoe, one of my all time favorites. 

You know you're old when you too remember free air...

Stephen

The Omelette and The Wife

After the rain I took a walk around the yard and brushed against one of my rosemary bushes. The rich scent tagged and followed me for the rest of my stroll. For some odd reason it triggered my need for a nice hot omelette. I return and snip off a couple of sprigs.

In the kitchen I set to work. I slice a small section of red onion, take a couple of tablespoons of Ricotta cheese, the rosemary and after I chop the onion and rosemary very fine, whip in six eggs. Add kosher salt and a nice amount of pepper.  Not a mushroom in the house but you make do with what's available.

Sweet Wife's at the kitchen table with her laptop and two monitors. She's hard at work. She doesn't do, kitchens. Can't boil water. She has other gifts.

I place butter in my skillet and whip the egg mixture. It smells good. When the butter is hot I pour the egg mixture and the kitchen is filled with the aroma of onion and rosemary.

Sweet Wife, from around the corner, "What are you doing in there?"

Me, all smartass, "Cooking."

"I know that, but what are you cooking?"

"An omelette,  I'm hungry." Let's face facts - one can only eat so much tree bark and grass. Diets suck.

Tap, tap, tap. Shuffle of chair. She walks into my kitchen. Stands quietly against my shoulder. She smells good too.

Sniff, sniff. Then, "That smells wonderful. How in the world do you cook like this, Honey."

"Beats me, I just do. And, I know. It does smell good doesn't it."

Silence.

"I'm hungry too."

Me, again, all quiet and stoic.

Then, "Honey, I love you."

"I know, and I love you, too."

Wait, I said to myself, here it comes.

"May I have some omelette too?"

"Not sure there's enough. I only had six eggs."

This, is fun.

Then she gets serious..."Honey."

"Yes, Dear."

"If you know what's good for you you'll give me half."

I know what's good for me.

Stephen

Flavor

I shall spend our stormy and wet afternoon with one of my favorite magazines.

This months issue is dedicated to bread baking. Since I can't bake worth a flip it should prove to be interesting.

Guess I'm just hungry.

Stephen

Hey, What 'da Heck

Now when did this happen...all new post layout.

I hate change.

Stephen