The Train Watcher

Today is my brother’s birthday.  I love my brother.  He’s funny, and smart, and caring.  He’s goofy too.  He likes to watch trains up close.  “Not too close, I tell him!”

He and I write Country Songs together.  So, today in honor of his birthday, I went down to the Seven Mile Bridge, watched trains, and wrote a Country Western Song.

Here goes.

“It think we’re related and that’s not so bad,
At times it makes me happy, and at other times glad…
We do things the same way; we don’t have tattoos,
Never eat sugar and we won’t drink the booze…
Yep, we might be kin, because it fits to a tee.
Holy Smokes….we’re from the same OVARY!”

Skipping rocks….

Wow, do I ever love to skip rocks.  It is just one of my favorite things to do in the whole world.  As I let that baby fly, I always hope, of all hopes, that I don’t hit some poor unwitting fish, just swimming along minding its own business; or worse yet, a beautiful butterfly, fluttering harmlessly through the air……

It always reminds me of the Bible Quote (and there are LOTS of those!)

But that ONE Bible Quote, in particular, that says “Let he who has never sinned cast the first stone.”

I guess I better quit skipping rocks before I hit something.

Minus one day.

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day so I never have to live without you.”  –   A. A. Milne


You can shove your %$#@!!&% camera up your….

You know you’ve gone too far when, even your dog, flips you the paw.

Oh, it happened today.  Take a look……

Here’s the deal.  I picked Miss Maxine up from getting her hair cut this morning.  The groomer, despite my previous warnings and remonstrances, decide to put a BOW in Max’s hair.  Horror of horrors, this much I can tell you…  Well, into the car we ducked.  I am hearing about it from the very moment we leave to groomer’s!  Adamantly.

The drive home was nightmarish and nearly insufferable, at best.

“Max,” I protested.  “You look so damn cute baby girl.”

“Screw you Polly.”

“Oh, c’mon Max,  it isn’t that bad.  Lassie was a boy, for crying out loud,” I continued.

“Piss off Kronenberger.  We are no longer friends.  Just get me home.  And I mean step on it.  AND, wipe that stinking grin off your face, before I wipe it for you.”

Well, we get in the back door, and of course, my first inclination is to grab my camera, before the situation goes totally south.  Not my smartest move.   I can’t really talk about what happened after I snapped the photo you see above.  It is too fresh in my mind, and much too horrifying to recount at this early stage in my recovery.

But, pictured below, is the last photo I took before losing consciousness.  The last thing I heard was:

“Just what do you think you are?  The &^$%##@ Paparazzi???”  (Fade to black……)

A long, long time….

“Till the Cows Come Home”….. The phrase essentially means “for a long but indefinite time.”

It’s exact origin is unknown,  but cows are notoriously languid creatures and make their way home at their own unhurried pace. That’s certainly the imagery behind ’till the cows come home’ – Hence the most popular use:  I’ll love you till the cows come home.

Happy Anniversary Eddy and Mark. As you can see, the cows are out standing in their field.  (What a coincidence.  You both are outstanding in your fields!!!)  But needless to say, they haven’t come home.  May you share eachother’s love for a long, long time!

Who’s on deck?

Since the commonality of the mailbox in the United States, which began in the middle of the 19th century, there have been 158.7 million rural mailboxes beaten to a pulp with a ball bat.  Many mailbox assualts go unreported in remote areas.  Don’t let your box be the next.  Join Americans for Mailbox Rights.  A letter is a terrible thing to waste.

(The history of it all……….In 1863, with the creation of Free City Delivery, U.S. postal carriers began delivering mail to home addresses. During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, mailmen knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. Efficiency experts estimated that each mailman lost 1.5 hours each day just waiting for patrons to come to the door.   Slowly, homeowners and businesses began to install mail slots (letterboxes) to receive mail when they were either not at home or unable to answer the door.)

The postman rings twice.

apple pie, hopes…

Looking up to the sky, from the ground, in Charleston, SC.  This morning.

Looking down, from the plane, onto heaven-only-knows what sky.  This afternoon.

Looking up to the sky, from the ground, in Camden, OH.  This evening.

“My witness is the empty sky. “ – Jack Kerouac

I followed Jesus on Meeting….

I did.   I went for a walk this evening, and who did I see, but Jesus.   I put the tail on him tonight.  Some might say I followed him.

About an hour later, I was on my way back home.  I got the creepy feeling that someone was following me.   I was alone on the street, but there were footprints behind me.  They weren’t in the sand.  Just there on the sidewalk.

Maybe I should have gone to St. Michael’s this morning?  What’s it all mean?