Tuesday, April 30, 2013

So, It's like this..., and Joe.

I walk into the office and flip the switch to this computer and, nada...nothing. It's been a long few days.

Now you know.

I promise I'll be back soon. I've several nice articles at a hard boil and will soon spread them all over this screen.


A big thanks and welcome to my new friend and follower, Joe. I promise, my new friend, to always answer all your comments.

I'm not sure if you write a blog, if so, please let me know and I'd be happy to post a link. Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.


Friday, April 26, 2013

The Road Tinkhamtown

It's been many many years since I've read this story by the late Corey Ford. I've found a link and I'd thought I'd share this treasure with you.

Please, enjoy.

I've always found it to be a peaceful read, and I sincerely hope you find it the same.


Thursday, April 25, 2013


This evening I did a quick run to the market, grabbed a few things and marked each from my list. The very last item on my scrap of paper was liver pate. 

I searched and searched. Isle after isle. I threw in the towel and like a good boy moved towards the front of the store and raised my hand for help.

Finally, a young man walks over and asked if he could be of assistance. I asked where they'd hidden the pate. He mumbled. I said, "Excuse me?"

"What's 'dat?"

I explained. Then repeated my request to five other store employees and one manager after I gave each an education in liver pate.

How sad. The number one food market in the state and a regional manager asked what one ate with a liver paste. Said he'd never in his life heard of pate.

Then again, I'm fairly certain he voted for Obama.

I just ordered a case of Sell's at 


Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Tick, tick, tick

Trust me...


(Edit to add, for some odd reason Blogger will not allow me to reply to comments. Any ideas?)


Sunday, April 21, 2013

Good Morning

I'm very sorry for my absence. It hasn't been an easy week.

Our weather has been unsettled with rain and windy conditions. Perfect for a book and coffee but awful for business and yard work. I suppose I shall break down and hire a truck load of democrats and have them take on the job of my long neglected yard. I just haven't the time.

The mother in law has retreated. She arrived home safe and sound and reported she had a wonderful time and her care was graded as, adequate. She also informed Sweet Wife she'd miss my meals. I smiled.

During her stay she recruited my wife as tour guide on her hunt for a new home. Early yesterday the two ladies descended a series of concrete steps. Sweet Wife, ever attentive to her elderly mother's needs, took her hand as they descended the steps. In the process Sweet Wife forget her own safety and fell. She landed hard.

Later, after I arrived home I remarked it looked as if she'd gone three rounds with Floyd Patterson. My lovely wife had scrapes, bruises, and cuts. Unfortunately when she fell she landed on her bad shoulder and arm. Six weeks of physical therapy out the window. She's fine, just sore.


How, pray tell, do those very beautiful Fox ladies hold their legs in the crossed position for hours on end.


Last evening in the quiet I read. I'm an easy man to please. Give me a good book and either a hot cup of fresh coffee or tea and the satisfaction of my life is complete.

Late, she steps into the family room and said, "Bed time." I turned the music off and afterwards, in the dark, the book came back to haunt me. I adjusted my pillow and eased to my side and flipped the switch of my bedside light. I took my reading glasses and once again lost myself in words of a past age.

I read far into the morning. At some point she rolled over, moaned, then flipped her beautiful green eyes my way..."Is it that good?"

"Yes," I said.

Another gentle moan, "You're hopeless."

"True, but you love me in spite of it."

"Yes, but much less so if you don't turn off that light."

I complied.



Thanks and Welcome

To my two new friends, Woody and Ronnie Jay. Gentlemen, I promise to always reply to your comments. It sometimes takes me a few hours, even days, but count on it, I will answer.

Again, thank you and welcome.


Thursday, April 18, 2013

I Have

A blackberry patch, and the berries are ripe. Deep black juicy tiny bits of goodness which offers your tongue a baptism of juice when eaten fresh from the vine.

My patch is located at the rear of my shop and takes space along the fence and many of the berries are red with future goodness.

Isn't it strange where we find our little pleasures in life...

For instance the news has arrived that my best friend, my long time pal, blood brother in crime and travel and hobbies, Duke, has squeezed several gallons of fresh Florida citrus. There isn't a doubt in my mind his juice and my blackberries would offer a wonderful combination treat.

With this fact in mind rush forth and bug the heck out of him until he hand delivers at least two gallons of nectar.

I shall await results.


Wednesday, April 17, 2013

The Egg and I

Tomorrow morning I'd like to wake and find this pictured breakfast on my table.

It's been many years since I've had a perfectly cooked soft boiled egg with toast points.

It's only a dream you know...more than likely my breakfast will consist of a stale granola bar and a cup of coffee.

At least I can dream.


Bits & Pieces

Allow me, please, a moment to again shake the dog bone. Only because I've had several emails from good friends and followers with questions about the purchase of silver.

I mentioned to one good friend that perhaps they should also include fractional shares of silver bars among their stash of one ounce coins and rounds. If you have a nice little pouch of fractional silver pieces such as - tenths, thirds, quarters, half and other odd gram weights, it is possible the odd eight point eighth piece of silver might turn the table in your favor at the local market.

As an example below we have a one third troy ounce silver bar. The reverse has a skull and cross bones. As always please excuse my very poor photography. 

Above, I've given you a hint as to where you might purchase such tiny pieces of silver. My knife is placed as scale. This piece arrived in the morning mail. The cute little booger actually weighs a fraction over its stamped weight and indeed tested pure. I only test my first purchase when dealing with a new business. The test acid will leave a flaw in the piece.

I also strongly suggest, if you make a habit of precious metals investments, and take physical possession of the metals, the purchase of scales. Since I'm very old fashioned I still use balance scales. Mine are old...I guess those new fangled digital things would suffice.

I know it's darn hard to tell from this picture but my one third piece actually weighed a bit heavy...I liked the little mint erred to my credit.

Sorry about the blurred picture.

Above, ten grams of silver. Hint to Atlantis Mint. Please be careful and make sure its stamped .999, not .925 which is sterling. If it is indeed sterling, make sure the price is adjusted lower.

I keep my little scale in my satchel. It also comes in handy for jewelry.

Above, folded.

As you can see its not much bigger than my knife.

I enjoy the trade of silver for goods and services. Just yesterday I sold a low grade revolver for several ounces of silver. The gentleman paid with American Silver Eagles. He walked out with a smile and I loved that soft tink when the pieces were dropped into my leather pouch. 

I should make a point about price. I try and keep my purchases within just a few dollars of spot. Many though, collect these tiny pieces as art, and think nothing about paying far more than the current market price. You decide.


The shop was busy yesterday. I was distracted and just this side of aggravated when my cell phone beeped. An email. I grabbed the sucker and quickly glanced at the email.

Here is what I found.....


I really hope you get this fast. I could not inform anyone about our trip, because it was impromptu. we had to be in Philippines for Tour..  The program was successful, but our journey has turned sour. we misplaced our wallet and cell phone on our way back to the hotel we lodge in after we went for sight seeing. The wallet contained all the valuables we had. Now, our passport is in custody of the hotel management pending when we make payment.

I am sorry if i am inconveniencing you, but i have only very few people to run to now. i will be indeed very grateful if i can get a short term loan   from you(2,550). this will enable me sort our hotel bills and get my sorry self back home. I will really appreciate whatever you can afford in assisting me with. I promise to refund it in full as soon as soon as I return. let me know if you can be of any assistance. Please, let me know soonest. Thanks so much.
This email was supposedly sent by my cousin. Let's call her, Glynda. The two of us, as they say, grew up together. There isn't a gnats difference in our age. She's about a month younger or older, I forget, the point is we were very close. I loved and still love her very much indeed.
Since I was so very busy, like I've said, I didn't read the text very carefully. I thought, damn, she's in trouble. Anyway, I went about my business as sad thoughts floated about my mind. 
I know Manilla, lived there for six months. Its full of thieves and pick pockets, easy to believe she was in serious trouble. But, something bothered me about the letter. I again removed my phone and this time read it carefully. Scam. Just to make sure I sent her a quick text and asked if she and her husband were home. She phoned back within seconds.

Seems her computer was hacked. The hackers had cleaned out her contact list. She'd received hundreds of phone calls. Then she said, "Don't respond."

Too late.

I'd sent a reply that said, "Contact the U.S. Embassy." Me, felt like an idiot. Changed my email password.

Oh well.


Time for coffee, later.


Tuesday, April 16, 2013


After I opened the shop this morning I jerked a cup of coffee sat and put ink to paper and paid my mid-month accounts. Fox was on the overhead screen with the constant chatter of the Boston Fireball party.

Gave me time to think about our response. Then it occurred to me His Highness will probably jet to the middle east and deeply bow and beg the camel riders for forgiveness and promise to never, ever again have liberals run through the streets of Boston while dressed in short pants.

All jokes aside...may God bless those families with lost loved ones and the injured. This is senseless.


Monday, April 15, 2013

Brief One

I'll not pound this puppy into the ground, but silver and gold are down. A wise man or woman might take this chance to dollar cost average the metals as the price drops.

Just my two cents.


Sunday, April 14, 2013

The Rain, and a Book

Soft guitar and piano music issue from my stereo, and its accompanied by the sound of hard rain. As the old timers used to say, it rains cats and dogs.

The combination of the music and rain is good for the soul and offers a gentle caress to tangled nerves. Now, if only I could concentrate on my book. This is a perfect day for the written word and a good cup of fresh hot coffee, almost.

I'll read a few lines and then the chatter of my lovely wife and my MIL intrude.

I've just slapped my book down in frustration. A man needs to know when he's whipped and display a white flag. So, I'll write a bit and read your blogs instead.

Standby, I shall visit soon.


From Wirecutter

Sally forth and read.

And, pay attention.

H/T, to my friend, Wirecutter.


Yeah, Baby

I'm in love...

These lovely ladies are 'old pour' silver bars. They sell for a hefty premium over the spot price of silver. Excellent investments. As an example, and I'm sure you are aware of this little bit of knowledge, if the bar holds five troy ounces of silver multiply the weight by spot...then add several hundred or thousand dollars for the premium. I own a five ounce bar currently at bid for six hundred bucks. Crazy, I know, but collectors love this stuff. 

Above, a very rare Klondike bar.....really. Yes, the ice cream's namesake.

I really like the (above) old Silver Towne bars. I own a few.

Excuse me while I caress my girls.

(If you'd like to try your hand check Ebay....just don't faint at the prices.)


Saturday, April 13, 2013


Not only am I very tired but also a bit tipsy. I've had four hard ciders since I arrived home. It's been a long hard day, my feet hurt and then I went and made a nice meal for the wife and her mother.

Believe it or not, my mother in law liked the meal.

Now I'm in shock, tipsy (Hence the cider.) and tired.

See you tomorrow.

(Edit...forgot. I grabbed a nice batch of fresh smoked Herring for breakfast. Ya'll come join me in the morning.)


Friday, April 12, 2013


Florida is windy, it is important to remember this fact.

Each and every morning when I arrive at my place of business, I step from my truck and begin my routine by cleaning my parking lot of wind blown trash. I have a nice collection of plastic market shopping bags. Daily I routinely bend to pluck plastic soda bottles and little brown sacks which contain glass bottles and aluminum beer cans.

I refer to these items, the trash, as 'democrat tracks.'

A fella once asked me why I call this roadside eyesore, democrat tracks. I explained if one were to follow the trail of trash it would, inevitably, lead one back to its source, and more than likely, the author of this discarded junk would be a democrat.

I further explained my business is located across the street from a city park. I watch this park. Within the park you will find democrats. I observe these democrats discard their trash on the ground...not within the large green trashcans placed about ten feet or so through out the park. Then the Florida wind gently takes this pile of rubble and sends it directly across the street to my business where tomorrow morning I will again walk about and gather their mess.

I hate it.

And just think - we're not allowed to shoot the sorry SOB's on sight.


Thursday, April 11, 2013

A Kiss

Early this morning I was just seconds from departure when, for some odd reason, I turned and walked back to the kitchen dining room. I bent and gave the mother-in-law a kiss. I stood and gave her smile as she remained speechless. 

I then turned and gathered my satchel and bag of lunch, gathered my keys and returned to the front door when I heard her say, "Well, thank you, Dear."

You must keep them on their toes, off guard.

Besides, I'm in a good mood.


Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Have You Seen

My old soup thermos I asked Sweet Wife when I arrived home.

"No," she answered.

For some odd reason, today, I had a hankering for soup. During business hours I seldom if ever leave the shop which makes it very difficult for me to satisfy my cravings for certain food groups. Hence, I pack a lunch. Today, I wanted soup. This soup monkey rode my back for hours.

Then I remembered I had an old Aladdin soup thermos somewhere at home. I haven't used it in over thirty years (More like forty, truth be known.) and had long forgotten its hiding place.

I'm still on the hunt.

Really, no kidding, have you seen it?


Home Invasion

Yes, I'm still alive. I've extended my business hours, for obvious reasons. My house has been converted into a tax office for my MIL. It's a long story...and I'm too tired to relate the details. Suffice it to say, my life has been turned inside out.

When sufficient time has passed I'll relate all the gory minutia.

(Next door a very nice house is for sale. Yesterday she mentioned she might walk over and write a check for its purchase. I fainted.)


Sunday, April 7, 2013

On the Road

Her plans shift second by second, but as it stands, we should be on the road to Georgia within an hour, or two, or three. To refresh your memory we have agreed to move my wife's mother into our home.

Seems the MIL has issues with her taxes and is reluctant to leave until her accountant (By phone and fax.) toes the line and agrees with her numbers.

I've sent word her cell will receive and send just fine in other states. We even have a branch of the United States Post Office.

This will be a long, long day.


Friday, April 5, 2013

If You Want to Make God Smile,

It was close to 0300 when I climbed from bed. My sleep had been fitful and I had a taste, like sand, in my mouth and my shoulders ached. Standard procedure. Her side of the bed was empty. I threw on my robe and explored the house.

Our house is fairly large and there are many places to hide. I was worried for her. I checked the usual places and finally walked to the other side of the house and down the east wing. At the very end of the hall at the door of what we refer to as the antique room issued forth a soft toned voice.

I stood and listened. More clearly than her was the music of rain and our windchimes. For just a second I felt guilty I'd forced our old cat to spend the night outdoors. Finally, I placed my hand on the door and pushed.

I peeked inside and she was curled on the bed. The only light issued from a small night light I keep in all rooms of our house. She sensed rather than heard me and turned, flipped her long hair away from her face and her tears became visible. She smiled and held out the cell phone and mouthed the word, mother.

I made the sign of the cross.

I turned to leave, walked back to our family room and took a seat to wait the outcome. I lowered my head and listened to the rain and the owls. Some little something way back in the recesses of my mind told me to get ready.

She walked into the room, wet faced.

She tilts her pretty face at me, smiles gently, then said, "She's old, Honey. She has no family left around her and I need her. (And here she firms her shoulders, looks away and with determination continued.) So this Sunday, after church, I'm driving to Georgia and bringing my mother home to live with us."

The house is silent. In three hours I need to dress in order to take on another day of labor and I don't feel good and I quickly mentally inventory my stash of sleep medications. Far off, thunder.

I had to try. "Didn't you consider my thoughts"

"Please, Sweetheart. I need her, and she'd old and sick and lonely."

My wife's siblings are far flung, different states. We do not, as they say, get along. I'm former military, an outdoorsman, shooter. Even though the Lord and I have an understanding, I'm not extremely religious. I do believe in my Lord and Savior but her brothers and sister, as a standing rule, keep the Bible tucked under their arms as they follow their daily routines. They shun weapons. Her brothers, well, prance. They can't even bait a hook for goodness sake. We argue.

With this in mind, if we have her mother in residence, I could envision our home as the newest Motel 6. Not gonna happen.

Our prior plans were to drive north, later this month, and collect her mother for a trip to Atlanta  The old girl has surgery scheduled at Emory, a routine procedure on her eye, and I was fine with the plans. But this, to move her into my home for the rest of the month (And, probably afterwards.) doesn't set well with me. I like my routine, my peace.

So we both sat and listened to the rain. Her stoic  Me, quick little glances her's the tears don't 'ya know, the tears. Here's a woman, the love of my life, that has had to deal with the loss of her only son and both of her grandchildren. A woman as sweet as the world to others that sat by my bedside as the doctors whispered in her ear I had about four hours to live. (I made liars of them, by the way.) Those tears melted my heart.

If you want to make God smile, whisper to him your plans.


Thursday, April 4, 2013

Bits & Pieces

Sometimes I hate Blogger. I've been absent for the last three days due to Blogger's refusal to allow me to sign into my account. The good people that administrate Blogger normally do a fine job but for some unknown reason, of late, they've fallen on their collective butts.

I suppose its just as well, I haven't had much to say, other than we have rain.


To all the good people that have left comments on my recent post...I shall answer soon.

This morning I unlocked my shop to find one of my lights, when I hit the switch, refused to spark. So I will fix the darn critter as soon as I finish writing this worthless post. And, I've noticed the toilet in the shops head constantly feeds water to the sewer system...pennies down the drain. I just left word with my plumber. The shutoff valve refuses to budge. Ever snap one off....yeap, me too.

As soon as these minor chores are completed I'll be back to leave replies. I promise.


Sweet Wife has physical therapy three times a week. She came home last evening in tears. According to her, therapy hurts, which hurts me. It rips my soul to see any loved one in pain, much less her. I iced her down and cooed and soothed as best I could and then had her take to the couch and covered her in a blanket. I hate it. Her pain.

One can't shoot pain, nor beat it with one's fist. I'm powerless over it. I mentioned to her if possible I'd take her pain as mine own. She just smiled. The pain laughed.

One of these days the pain will blink, then I'll give it good a old fashioned butt whipping.


Like Ireland in July we've a nice steady cool rain. No complaints here, we need it. I need to hire a small boy scout troop and have them clean my yard. I must have six tons of leaves in the yard and another four in the gutters. Pine cones up the ole wazoo.

I glanced at my deck this morning to find it covered in oak leaves too. There are not enough hours in the day.

Unlike you good folks north of the Mason-Dixon, our leaves descend during Spring. Catkins like you've never seen cover my driveway and the pollen is awful. Normally my truck is silver. Now, its taken on a green tone.


Hey, silver is down. Jump.

Please excuse me it's time for me to make a living.