Awful, Just Awful

As is our habit, when we work late, we dine out. Tonight we decided to try a new Italian place. I ordered chicken cacciatore and an appetizer of fresh water mussels.

By far the worst meal I've ordered in years. Both the mussels and pasta were so over salted I couldn't eat either.

A few minutes after our meals arrived the chef walked out and asked if we were, basically, satisfied with our food. I mentioned the mussels and pasta were over salted. Sweet Wife agreed.

Now get this, the chef said it was impossible. He had not added salt to the dishes. I said sorry, but he was wrong and to taste the mussel sauce. He dipped a piece of my bread then said, it's fine. Argued with me.

The chef neither asked if I'd like a replacement nor did he offer a discount or adjustment to our bill. We were his only customers.

Ask me if I'll return.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

The construction workers have returned in force. I should just flip the closed sign and drive home. At least this time around they were kind enough to allow traffic to reach my building. As all traffic has been diverted, perhaps I should find a local night club and hire their off duty pole dancers. I'd have them dress skimpy and stand out front in this cold wind and wave to the passing motorists.

Then again the cost of their services would easily nullify any profit. 

*****

Our weather has finally turned cool. Windy as all get out. I like it.

I have a camping trip planned next month. We hope all members of 'The Group' attend. I hope to bottle this weather and release it the night of just after our fire is laid and lit. I hate to camp in warm weather.

If, and it's a big if, the weather cooperates on this future camping trip, I plan to pack my little .410 and do a bit of squirrel hunting. Don't say it. I hear you...shotgun for squirrels. Yes. This dense Florida brush requires it...that's my excuse and I plan to stick with it. You young punks with your baby fresh eyes...

*****

I have a contract with a fire extinguisher service. Once a year, as required by law, they arrive at the shop and take my extinguisher out to their service vehicle and brush the dust off, attach a new tag, and return and charge me darn near fifty dollars for three minutes of their time.

They just arrived.

As much as I hate to pay for this service, guess what happens when the state inspector knocks on my door and the little tag hasn't been properly stamped. Another form of tax at gun point.

Pure rip off.

*****

Here's an old expression - 'just got a hair up my butt.' Google that one. Anyway, with the high volume of noise outside, I thought, hey, target practice.

 Loaded a few CB shorts, stepped out back and placed target and had a few minutes of fun. Kinda nice. Took a cup of coffee and grabbed an old plastic chair and just popped, pop, pop. The squirrels hid.

Talk about breaking a few laws...

Firing a gun within city limits is a big no-no, but I know the locals just think it's area democritters exchanging fire.

I'm a bad boy.

See you later, and hey, be careful out there.

Stephen

Oh, no

Okay, I still feel like death warmed over but I'll relate this:

I drive home tonight and as I make my turn into the driveway I see our garage door is open. I think, great, Sweet Wife is home. Normally she's the last through the door by a wide margin.

Then, as I get close enough to see inside the garage my heart drops. Her car isn't parked inside. The garage light is out. Not good.

I step out and quickly scan the garage. My range bag is still on the bench. The tools are where they should be, as is my tool box. The lawn mower is parked in its normal space. I pull my carry piece and open the door to the laundry room and walk into the house.

In our family room my old double barrel shotgun still sits atop the fireplace mantle. The widescreen and sound systems are in place. Quick as a cat I rush to check my gun safe...it too is fine and in place, unmolested. Then into our office - all is well. Still I clear the house, one can never be too careful.

When my stress level has lowered, and with a few deep breaths, it hits me. One of us had not properly lowered and locked the garage door, and it wasn't me...

Our home stood unlocked and unprotected all fricking day. Thank goodness our house is located in a quiet area far from the busy streets.

I haven't said a word to Sweet Wife. She doesn't need the stress nor guilt. We had a quiet dinner and now she's at church in bible study.

Tomorrow, I'll make sure I stay behind and lock the house....my heart doesn't need this kind of workout.

Now, if you'll excuse me I need to sharpen a couple of my new (old) knives.

Take care.

Stephen

Tomorrow

I'm just very tired. I'll see you tomorrow.

Take care.

Stephen

I Like

What a neat little firearm. Its called Little Badger. Sold by Chiappa Firearms.

Check it out.

*****

Up to my ears today. I'll try and post something, later.

Stephen

If You Ever

Run across this fella on your blog, smile, then use reasonable discourse and slam his butt in the mud.

Much like our friend DaddyBear.

That is all.

Oh, forgot, spread the word.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

Our wind chimes are in full song. Our weather has turned with pregnant gray skies filled with dark clouds and the wind has increased and it's slightly cooler.This new weather is a very welcome change.

I mentioned, just a few minutes ago, on Rev. Paul's blog that we have azaleas in bloom which signifies our weather is far too warm for the season. My truck is now painted a sickly green from pine pollen. Young women bandy about in bikinis.

Okay, it isn't all bad.

*****

As I've mentioned in past pieces I seldom attend church with my lovely wife. I've know for a very long time she's felt abandoned on the pew. A few days ago a young minister came into the shop and we had a cup of coffee and as is the way of some clergy he asked if I attended worship services. He didn't flinch at my response.

I refrained, as he was a customer, from asking him to mind his own business; besides he seemed like a nice man. Soon enough he asked the same question of my family. I excused myself and jerked another cup of coffee returned and took a seat alongside and explained my situation. Guess you could say I felt guilty. So be it.

Since he was young and eager I related to him as I have to you, dear reader, and we chatted for several minutes. Long story short I went to church this morning.

She'd left the house for 'Sunday School.' I hadn't yet resolved to a plan of action. I had a coffee, read my morning paper and soon, in my minds eye, pictured my lonely wife pewed in sorrow. I sighed, rose and hit the shower. I selected a wool tie (with a waterfowl pattern if you really need to know) grabbed one of my camelhair sport coats and sent her a text. It read, 'be there soon.'

I parked under an oak and stepped from my truck and slipped a small carry piece on my belt and walked toward the church. Up the steps and there she stood, all smiles. She'd waited. She took my hand and lead me towards the middle of the church. It's a big church. I glanced back at the rear row. I felt vulnerable.

The candles neither flickered nor dimmed.

When the congregation stood for hymns she sang like a angel. Her visage glowed. She was happy and we held hands.

Then, the power failed.

There was a momentary stunned silence before the group in unison continued the song. Afterwards, in the dim light of the stained windows, Sweet Wife turned to me with a look...

I said, "I warned you."

Stephen