Sunday, July 14, 2013


When I was child the late evening meal was supper. Dinner was what we ate at high noon. Either way, it's time for me to get to work on tonight's meal.

The stove awaits, see 'ya later.



As is my habit I walked into the kitchen this morning and built a pot of coffee. As the pot brewed my life's blood, I threw a couple of English muffins into the toaster, and then slipped on my comfortable old house shoes and walked outside to search for the morning paper.

It's a nice morning. Very damp after three inches of rain. I stood a moment and listened as the birds sang, no breeze. Warm. I eased down the driveway. No newspaper. Even the neighbors yards appear much for nicking their copy.

I suppose Zimmerman's verdict threw the printers for a late night loop. When my copy arrives, and it will, I have plans for the front page. I shall cut, paste and post it on the front window of my shop. Should prove interesting.


She's on her way to church. Last evening she asked if, after church, we might take in a movie. I said, "Sure."

In fact, I hate theaters. Still it's what she wants. I'm sure as soon as we're settled some pack of democritters will whip out their cells and make the place unbearable. I've come close, several times, to fist fights in crowded dark movies over some boogers inability to keep his mouth shut. Then, one night, I indeed came out of my seat and reached and jerked one oily haired dude from his chair. I then explained, as nicely as possible, if he didn't remove himself from the room, exactly how I'd remove his teeth instead. Shamefully, back then, I wasn't a very nice person.

Sweet Wife wasn't happy with my loss of self-control. I apologized. She didn't accept. This was early in our marriage and I'm sure she had second thoughts about the man she'd married. She's since changed my outlook and patience.

Afterwards it was years before she again agreed to attend the theater with me. Nowadays we have Netflix. The service is convenient and my family room is quiet. I can actually follow the dialog, and I've had few problems with greasy foul mouthed critters. Even the cat is well behaved.

So, it seems this afternoon we'll check the listings and give it another try. Maybe I can convince her to attend the new zombie movie with that Hollywood fruitcake Brad Pitt.

Hey, just remembered...I'm now eligible for a senior citizen discount. Hope they serve good popcorn.


1006, the newspaper flopped against my front door. Didn't even bother to ring my doorbell.

Bet the driver voted for Obama.


Couple of days back a fella rang the shops bell and asked if I wanted to buy a shotgun. I though, one shouldn't be afraid to ask stupid questions, it's how we learn.

Anyway, as is their habit, he came inside with a bundle wrapped in bed sheets. As he removed the covers, "This here is a fine shotgun. High class." A black stock was revealed. "I'm telling 'ya man this here shotgun be worth nine hundred dollars."

Me, "Really."

"Yeah, man. this here is one fine shotgun. It'll shot bullets all day long, man. I bet you could ask more than nine hundred. All I wants is eight."

I laughed and took the firearm from his hands, slapped the bolt back and a shell ejected. Rolled across the floor. "Ah, man, I didn't know it had a bullet in it."

It was a Benelli Nova, pump, twelve gauge. Nothing special and to tell you the truth I don't really care for 'em.

"I'll give you two hundred. Period."

He took the cash and walked. I did give back his 'bullet.'

Then again, I'm considerate like that.