Hump day

Half past another week. Three more days we'll never get back. It's all downhill from here, as the saying goes. Ain't that the truth? Well, at least my home wasn't built seventeen feet below sea level and now inundated by seawater with nowhere to go and no way to get there. There's always an upside to any given situation, I suppose. For those who find themselves in the aftermath of natural devastation, it's that they're still drawing breath no matter what things they may have lost. Easy to observe from high and dry, harder to put yourself in that place where everything's gone but what you've got on and you're trying to figure out where you're gonna live now, where you're gonna sleep tonight for that matter. Where to get a drink of clean water... Makes you thirsty just thinking about it, doesn't it?

I usually have some inane patter to drivel on about here but I think I'm too steeped in the evening news to banter casually tonight. Or I'm just too tired, shorted myself on my usual caffeine intake today by more'n half. Though I did manage to edit my 'About Me' box at left. Snappy, huh? I guess it's no sin to banter casually a little even though the world outside is a frightful mess. What if we all walked around moping over eco-disasters, political unrest and myriad human ills day after day...? We'd be a planet full of mopey-faces and the USS Enterprise would never bother traveling back in time to save itself because they'd be a future full of mopey-faced spacemen, moping around the galaxy...

Talk about steeped in the news, I'm just steeped in TV and goofball popular culture, is all. My wife hates that I can never be serious for long. Grocery shopping, make a banana nose and stick oranges up my shirt. Car breaks down, show a little leg to try and get a ride. Funerals... well, I don't make fun at funerals. Not much anyway. And not out loud.

What else is going on? Can't think of a thing...

Sunday driving... again...

So it was busy day at the wheel, driving, driving, driving. Out and about around 10 am, had some homespun toy makings to mail off including a pair of my little rubber gloves to a chap in Australia. Can you believe it only costs 80 cents to send a small padded envelope all the way around the world? I imagine the dingos looking up as the mail plane flies low overhead dropping the mail sack at some outback outpost. Ah, I'm sure it's more civilized than all that. Made a stop at the local convenience store for some edibles for the road. I've made a habit of patronizing one store in particular since they've begun offering the homemade snack cakes which are made by a fellow I've dealt with for vintage toys at Renninger's Flea Market for 10 or fifteen years. He calls it 'Home Sweet Home', good stuff.

Hit a few yard sales, stopped by Barry's Country Market, close to home, for a bucket of fried chicken and potatoes and Turkey Hill Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey for lunch and kept on the road through my boyhood stomping grounds, Smith Hollow back of Brogue, PA, passing the small bridge where, driving my cousin Ronnie's Monte Carlo, I almost drove into the creek while looking down at the gearshift to see where the next gear was located. Passed the spot where my Mom went to the one-room schoolhouse and later a black family sat my brother and I when we were small (I remember more than once coming in from the bright sunshine into the darkness of the house and being jolted by old John T. speaking from his chair in the corner. Couldn't make him out but for the whites of his eyes even after my eyes adjusted...), two former homes of one aunt (no, actually it was three, I tend to forget she lived at the third for a short time), one former residence of a 2nd aunt and uncle(an old farmhouse with a handful of outbuildings made a great playground as a young'un, of course, the landscape has changed completely now...), my grandparents' old house, my great-grandparents' old house where my family lived as well for a while when my parents were younger than I am now, Pret Gohn's little country store, shuttered and quiet like his home next door since he died last year. Or was it the year before?

Passed the place where one of Ronnie's girlfriends' sisters lived, she had the coolest gunmetal gray metallic Dodge Challenger when we were teens. The dairy farm where his best friend lived, still does, I'm guessing (It was party central for the gangof kids from Collinsville and Brogue. They always thought it a great joke to offer me the bong as it went around because I hung out with them, liked the same music, went to their beer parties and backroads drag races and so on but never took up the habit of smoking their stuff.). I was looking out for the Collinsville Fish & Game Club where Deep Sixx, my 1st garage band, made our 1st and only public appearance but I made a wrong turn down another back road before we got that far.

From there it was a long, winding road through the back country of southern York County- Woodbine, Fawn Grove,Stewartstown (whose venerable community building was the site of my 2nd band, Mean Streak's, 1st and last public outing), Shrewsbury and New Freedom, home to Jeff Hostetter's Stringed Instrument Repair where my long-lost pre-production Eddie Van Halen style black-and-yellow Charvel guitar was all fixed up like new. As close to new as possible anyway for a guitar that met with some serious misadventure and was split into two pieces and only one of those connected to the neck. On top of the glue and clamp job to put the body back together it took a coupla new frets, filling some divots and paint touch ups on the body, steaming out some nasty dings on the neck and then assembling the whole megilla again. I wanted to ask Jeff if perchance he'd gotten any 'Before' and 'After' pictures to maybe post on his website but I was too excited and more or less just grinned like an idiot looking at myself in the smooth, glossy finish while I wrote him a check.

Two antique store stops, one clothing consignment shop for the girls' buying pleasure, another music store stop, WalMart for an Rx refill for the little woman, Borders where the boy had a book special ordered waiting and, finally, back home where I dragged the Crate out to the tool shed and plugged up the Charvel for the first time in, like, six, seven years. I thought I might have a hard time with it because it's a slightly wider neck and the two guitars I've been playing lately have standard, rather narrow necks but it was actually a pretty easy transition, my little left paw always liked its unfinished neck and big frets, plus it's just a goooood sounding guitar when it's turned up. Not so great for mellow stuff but for power chords and squealing lead parts... it's a winnah! Finally gave it a rest when it got dark and I thought I'd best quit before the neighbors complained and the cops showed up. Now it's here on a guitar stand, boy, is it weird to see it sitting there. A good feeling, but weird. I pretty much feel like I'll never be a 'musician' just a dilletante but even so, I'll tell you, I still think it's an amazing thing, fingers on strings making sounds outta nothing, outta thin air as it were. Ceaselessly fascinating. I remember I literally ate and slept with this guitar when I first got it. In fact, I have maybe six pictures of myself with it from way back when and in three of them I've fallen asleep with it strapped on. Nutty, I know...

Anyway, that was my day in a nutshell.

What I meant to say was...

...I reached under the car seat she was sitting on... not her seat. Oh, brudder!

Although a year or so later at Millersville I stopped to give a ride to another girl I was mooning over- I know, I had a different crush every six months there for a while -and was just moving my books and stuff to make room for her when she slipped in the seat. I often thought afterward, 'Hey, that's a pretty sly trick...', though I really didn't intend for it to happen. Really, I didn't! I guess I should warn my own daughter to watch out for things like that... Even though she's prohibited from dating until at least 21, maybe 27, we'll see...

How did I get on this subject anyway?!?

What rhymes with 'jacket'?

Placket? Whack it? Hoo boy! Since I mentioned it, I confirmed my change-of-season mania, fever, madness, whatever ya wanna call it for outerwear by starting early this year. A stop at the local thrift store on the way home this after yielded first a cool faded denim blue corduroy 'big shirt' I'll call it. Not a coat or a jacket by design but certainly a practical function as heavy as it is. Man, I can hardly wait for the temps to drop to about 50, 55 one fine day, hoo hah! And a nice foresty green pullover fleece thing with blue nylon accents and one of those hand warmer pocket things in front. Zipper neck, very cozy, great for early morning surveys of the neighborhood on crisp autumn mornings. Daggone, this is exciting stuff! I guess the whole change of season thing is more of the inspiration than anything for the love of jackets and coats. Back to school, of course. Trees changing. First snowfall. Things like that. I remember once taking out a girl I had crushed on for quite some time, it was very autumnal at the time, we went to see The Terminator and then stopped by her high school football game so her girlfriends could check out the long-haired college guy. Funny. But I remember the breezy night and my Rocky Horror t-shirt, a big brown corduroy suit coat and the brown and white striped scarf I sported with it, good thing the coat was warm because my jeans were 'holy' and not good for keeping out drafts. Aaaahh, 80s rock star fashion. I also recall feeling under her seat at a red light for a certain cassette I wanted to play for her- all very innocent, honestly - taking my foot off the brake for a second and tapping the car in front of us. Doh! Very smoooth, dude... It was once and done though, I was too wild looking for her parents' liking and a coupla years later she married a nice church-going guy I had worked with at the wood shop. He and I had actually doubled up with a coupla girls we met one night and... well...ah... that's another story entirely...

Summer twilight

Isn't it funny how as summer winds down the days seem to just roll by like a wagon ride downhill? No, wait, that's every day, all year long, after you pass the bloom of youth, I guess. Reminds me of those Calvin and Hobbes cartoons where he careened carelessly along, whizzing by trees and over rocks, mindless of the omnipresent possibility of bloody upset and dire misadventure.

Kids are starting back to school already, in a day or two anyway. Temps are moderating somewhat, especially at night. York Fair coming up in a week or two, still have HersheyPark tickets from work to make use of before they close up for the season. I wonder if they still have the creek full of those giant goldfish? And Skee-Ball? My Dad used to roll Skee-Ball all afternoon. I don't remember what kinda prizes they gave out back then. I know I was always begging change to try out the arcade vending machines, you know, those sepia-toned picture cards of movie stars and stuff? I have a handful of them in my Bonanza collection now; Little Joe, Hoss and Ben, Chuck Connors. They were probably color by the time I came along though. One of the machines had custom car pictures and I just knew there had to be a Batmobile card in there somewhere. But I never got one. Last time we went, a few years back now, we caught the music revue including a cool Elvis show. If I ever went karaoke, it'd have to be Elvis. And I'd have to have a few beers. All the better to curl mah lip, li'l momma...

Been a short summer it seems. Good thing as hot as it got in spots. Anyway, I'm always ready for the change in wardrobe the change in seasons brings. Somewhere along the way I developed a real love of coats. Coats, jackets, windbreakers, big hooded overwear, stuff like that. I've always got a goodly selection and hate to part with any when I get a new one. Go figure. Before you know it it'll be coat-wearing season and blankets piled high at night because of the cold outside and not because the AC is cranked up, forming ice on the windowsills.

Last year my spouse took a turn removing the air conditioner from the upstairs window with comical results. I guess she expected the appliance to balance itself when she threw open the window because it fell headlong to the ground in a big, metallic hurry. Or at least it fell as far as my front lawn guitar chair, conveniently placed aganst the house versus its usual place under the tree, smashing its plastic frame into several pieces. Needless to say, I got a new guitar chair this summer. AC still works okay. She says it was like a scene from a movie or something, screamed out loud watching it slip from the sill and when she stuck her head out the open window to see the result of its drop laughed out loud. Brought the kids running thinking she was having a mental break of one sort or another. Of course, they had a good guffaw as well when Mommy, doubled over laughing, could only point out the window...

Well, I think I've had enough electromagnetic exposure for one night. Now I'll go turn on the television... Say goodnight, Sheryl. "Good night, Sheryl."

 

Lancaster report

Short and sweet the little day trip to the Red Rose City, stopped at our usual breakfast place on the way, George's Restaurant and Pizza Castle in Mountville, found Lancaster's farmer's market closed but we did browse the downtown Art Shop and a coupla artsy gewgaw purveyors including Strawberry & Co., Zanzibar and POP!, a weird little punk/retro fashion boutique. I always make a stop at the pawn shop for guitars but they had nothing exciting in stock. One stop I now realize we forsook was Stan's Record Bar, drats. There are a coupla galleries and one little shop with some windup robots and a cool selection of cards and stuff along the same street. Oh well, save those for next trip. The best part, of course, was watching the people on the street, in their cars, hurrying who knows where. Interesting how people you'll never meet remind of people you've known or famous faces. I often think I'd like to have a camera handy in public and just shoot strangers right and left, take 'em home and make an album of interesting faces. There was a hot dog vendor on the square who we did not patronize having recently broken fast and the newspaper company has a little courtyard open to the general public with a swell waterfall and fountain, neato. We went in and watched and listened to the water for a few minutes and resisted the urge to stamp about in the invitingly cool and frothy pool.

Hahaha, this Semisonic song, Never You Mind, has a Star Trek reference from the episode 'Spock's Brain'. Missed that on previous listening. Coupla co-workers were anxious to let me know a newspaper article last week announced the upcoming availability of a cell phone modeled after the Trek communicators. I always said I'd go cellular when they were like a communicator with the cool flip-up lid and sound FX a la the original show. Of course, I had to comment that I really want a real phaser next. There's a short list of people I'd just like to stun real good. Just once...

McCoy: "Blast it, Jim! You can't just go around stunnin' folks right and left" Kirk: "Who's the Captain here, Bones? You? Or me?" Spock: "Logical, Captain. Flawlessly logical." Kirk: "All right then. Let 'em have it!

Field Trippin'

Howdy ho, neighbor! I've got the day off, doing some mechanical stuff at the plant so there's no power throughout the facility, breaks my heart! So I'm loadin' up the truck and goin' to Beverly... Hills, that is... Well, no, not really. Just over to Lancaster Town PA, cross the river. They've got a nice little downtown scene goin', coffee shops, art galleries, not sure if the Central Market is runnin' today but I'm gonna find out, by cracky! There's even a junk shop or two where y'never know what you're gonna find, records, guitars, etc., etc. Holds the promise of leisure and warm strollin' sidewalk joy all day. Wahooo! Let's go!

S-a-t-u-r-d-a-y... Night!

Big deal. It used to be but no more. Talk about your settled-in homebodies, look in the dictionary and my picture is there. Anyway, it was another lousy week at work, proving, as if I didn't know it before, you can't trust anybody you've known less than seventeen years. Even then, you better keep an eye on 'em... Not to worry, I'll have my optimist goggles on again in a few weeks, a month at the outside and then some other worldly-wise bastid will have the opportunity to take their shot at me while they're smiling in my face. No problem.

I think it's just a conglomeration of circumstances making me somewhat... not morose exactly but definitely on the disaffected side of the street. Work is crappier than usual, wife and kids home early from the shore- not a bad thing at all, in and of itself -except it's because of a death in the family which caused some serious tension between the three girls. Seems there's always a crisis looming, breaking or healing over in a family with enough mental health issues to keep a battery of psychiatrists busy as the proverbial one-legged man. And that tension isn't left at the doorstep of our humble abode, by any means. It walks right in, kicks its shoes off and gets comfortable. I hear him upstairs rooting in the fridge for leftovers right now, I think!

So I spent the day working on the storage shed. Wow, what a nightmare. It gets cleaned and organized once, twice a year and still manages to becomes a tangled, lopsided, impenetrable mass of tools, bikes, bins, balls, unused small appliances, things we might use, things we'll never use, unfamiliar things that thought there was a party goin' on and came to stay from who knows where.

Anyway, I got a good start on it: dragged everything that wasn't nailed down into the driveway, got a former pantry cabinet in place to store some car stuff, organized the overhead shelves into discernible departments: craft goods, camping gear, luggage and my toy collection overflow. Yes, that's right, I'm 44, old enough to know better and still have more toys- playthings, not grown-up boy toys -than I can comfortably keep in my house. Sad and strange, isn't it? Also got the spaghetti leading to the power strip figured out so I finally fired up the phonograph that's been gathering dust out there for a year or more. I did a little yard-sale-ing the other weekend and got four Ventures albums and have been itching to give them a listen. It's interesting, the liner notes on one says the guitar players were relative novices when they first hit it big, they'd only been playing for a few years. Amazing. I wonder if they still play shows? I'd go see 'em.

It finally got to where the outer perimeter was all nice and straightened up and I realized everything that had to come back in; mowers, empty storage bins, assorted snow toys, a rolling cart with fax machine we got free at another yard sale and never tried out and some old videos, more stacking plastic chairs than we've had guests in the last five years, a single wooden folding chair my wife insists we keep because... well, I don't know why really, unless it has something to do with its mate which she asks about every so often and, I swear, I have never seen, was more than gonna fill the remaining floor space and I was gettting more than a little tired and bored so I more or less just dragged it all back in the middle and will have another spell of organization another day. It'll give me a chance to drag out the eight or ten Bonanza albums I have on a shelf and give them a spin! There's one where Hoss, Dan Blocker, narrates American folk stories and John Mitchum( actor- he was the fat detective who couldn't get over the fence in Dirty Harry -also brother to Robert Mitchum and, of course, folk singer) sings the songs about said characters and places.

And, hey, I feel better already! A little tippy-tap and a pleasant Bonanza reverie and the cares of the day seem to faaaade awaaayyy...

Ho Hum

   Another slow night at the ranch. I took the highway home tonight and opened up the Saturn a little. The last major garage repair was a timing chain replacement and it seemed to lose a good deal of oomph after that. So the mechanic said they could either do a 'piston wash' to get out the carbon deposits that almost surely are impacting the engine's workings at this late date or I could do a little more highway driving with it and see if that cleaned things out at all. And I don't care much for highway driving, although I've gotten more accustomed to it what with all the driving back and forth to the shore the past few years, and, besides, I have a great direct route home via a set of mostly back roads and a little thoroughfare we fondly refer to as the 'Stony Brook bypass', so I slacked off on the other route after less than a week.

    At any rate, since I'm living life as a bachelor this week, in spirit if not in fact, and disinclined to cook and clean up after myself, I killed the proverbial two birds with one stone and took the highway across the river, blowing out carbons to beat the band, to a little place in Columbia PA that absolutely makes the best cheesesteaks in the Commonwealth. Ordered up a large so I'd have half for lunch tomorrow, some jalapeno poppers- see, I'm eating my vegetables like a good boy. Deep-fried... cheese-filled... uh, breaded... vegetables... -and a Coke. Which, I thought to myself even as I opened the cooler door, proves the power of advertising as I've more or less given up Coke in favor of iced tea, trading a punch for a kick, I know, but I heard a neat ad about a costumed mascot saved from a fate worse than death by- what else?- a Coca-Cola in the nick of time. And so I had to have one too, so cold and refreshing. Well, not really refreshing, you know how it gives you that sugary tooth film... but it was cold. For about two minutes. Then it got kinda... well, mostly lukewarm.

   Spent the better part of the evening skimming eBay for guitars- I need more, two of the three in the house now have broken strings and I've been too steenking lazy to change them out. If I break a string on the last one I have to buy another guitar for sure! -and other wonderful non-essentials. Found a copy of Queens of The Stone Age Songs For The Deaf for cheap so I'll check that out. I only know one song from it so it'll be a surprise, surprise, surprise. A pleasant one, too, I'm hopeful. IM'd for a while with an old pal I hardly ever see in person any more. We jabbered like idiots about the idiots we work with and how working for a living stinks on ice even though he hasn't actually worked for a coupla years now, I guess. He might stop over on Friday to goof around, he likes to debug my computer every now and then. Then I'll make him sit and listen to me play some heavy metal licks and we'll maybe watch a movie or something. Sounds romantic, doesn't it? It's not, so just stop that!

   And I guess that's it. I'm still trying to think of literary puns for that Mexican restaurant menu. I think the problem is that I just don't know that many Spanish words or Mexican dishes or great book titles, for that matter.

  Got just a teensy little stretch of yard to mow but it'll wait until tomorrow night. >yawn<  And that's really it.

Ho hum, indeed.

Return To Reality

Cool, sounds like a heavy metal album title, doesn't it? Evokes Black Sabbath's Masters of Reality, too close maybe.

Anyway, I'm happy to report OC MD is still on the map. As of 8 pm last night anyway. I hate to leave that late because it's a four hour drive, give or take, and my eyeglass Rx still needs renewing so driving in the dark is no picnic. Driving isn't really a problem but reading the road signs sure is! But it was a pretty smooth trip, no snafus or holdups, no rain, one pit stop at the halfway point at McDonald's and two or three radio station changes and it was back to hometown York PA. Still, couldn't drop off and ended up watching the telly until almost 2 am. Didn't really impact my workday as I expected it would.

Nice weather for the weekend, 80s, breezy and sunny. Excellent. I got in the water Saturday which always delights the rest of the family. They like to take turns swimming around pinching me under the water and then surface yelling "Shark! Shark!" Hilarious the first hundred times. After that, not so much. Saw a pod of dolphins swimming by out beyond the surf, always intriguing. Went eating comidas de Mexicano Saturday night, place called Tequila Mockingbird. Get it? I said the menu should feature some other literary puns i.e., 'For Whom The Taco Bell Tolls'. But that was the only one I could come up with and nobody else would play along, the slackers. Besides, they'd most likely get a 'cease and desist' letter from PepsiCo if they went with that first suggestion and who needs that?

Otherwise a nice, relaxing day or two including some quality cable TV viewing- mostly just surfing the hundred channels with nothing on -strumming the guitar quietly on the porch, nursing a handful of Beck's Lights, nice green bottles, crisp, almost snappy flavor and low, low carbs to boot. I heard a funny radio ad the other week that touted beer as 'liquid bread'. Very funny! And true, hahaha. I don't generally pay too much attention to that sort of thing- and it shows -but my brudder-in-law, Terry the doctor, has taken up a more or less healthy lifestyle and it's his current beverage of choice. When he's not mixing up serious vodka drinks or uncorking some esoteric vintage wine, that is. Not my speed but the little woman and udder-brudder-in-law, Bob, join in with enthusiasm.

As usual, took the lead in crafting the daily breakfast buffet, always great fun. Though Sunday morning I definitely miscalculatedthe kids' appetites; they decimated the bowls of eggs, potatoes, corned beef hash and the first loaf and a half of Italian bread masquerading as Fench toast. Wow. It was scary, really. Usually they're in a hurry to snarf only as much as they're forced to eat and get back to the video games or head out to the beach. This time it was like the whole eight of 'em were replaced by lifelike doppelgangers inhabited by living stomachs from another planet.

That was my weekend. Oh, and my fourteen year old niece took me out in game of touch football on the street. I mean, way out. I caught the ball and >BAM!< next thing I knew I was rolling on the pavement! Got a nice road rash elbow and a bruised hip to show for it, cool. Enough sportsmanlike conduct for me, I retired to the porch and had another beer... I could go on but the juice keeps going off with the thunderstorms passing through so... zzzzz...

Shore enuff

I figured I better make a note tonight as I'm off to the seaside for the weekend, wheeee! Likely leaving directly after work tomorrow to try and beat rush hour Friday traffic outta town but I'll be back in time for a new work week, wheeee-ugh! Still I'll be footloose and fancy-free again next week as the wife and kids are staying on for the week with the extended family.

This, in fact, is the situation for which the exclamation 'Bittersweet!' was coined. I'll miss them, 'bitter', sure, but it's cool to get a little time to be responsible to none but myself- 'sweet!'. Which means I can swing by the music stores on the way home every day. Sit alone in the yard in the evening and watch the world go by. Have a burger for breakfast and another for dinner if I please. I plan on getting a new gas bottle for the grill and doing up some stuff one night, what's the phrase?... au courant, au naturel... al fresco, that's it. We got a good start on the summer grilling but the bottle ran out more than a month ago and we haven't done any since, it's been mostly too stinking hot and sticky to think about cooking at all, let alone cooking under the brain-frying sun. But I'll make the effort, if for no other reason than to bring a steak to work for lunch one day. I have a co-worker whose greatest concern each day is what everybody's having for lunch. It's the highlight of his day, I'm sure. And when somebody brings a steak he unloads all the 'We know who's making the big bucks now!' on 'em. Hey, you gotta help people out with little gestures like that now and again.

Which I had the opportunity to do on the way home tonight. Guy ran out of gas his little truck right in front of me at one of the busiest instersections known to man. One of those rural four-way free-for-alls, no signal light to tell people what to do, that is absolutely maddening when you get more than two cars lined up. I admit I was a little annoyed that he kept waving poeple through the intersection ahead of him until I saw he'd turned on his flashers and he and his seatmate were looking about anxiously. So I parked and helped his buddy push him out of traffic and then drove him over the hill for a draught of petrol in the gallon Rain-X bottle I had stashed in the trunk. And brought each of us a bottled water because it was swelteringly hot out there in the afternoon sun. Drove away quite anonymously with a jaunty wave. I thought, 'This must be how the LoneRanger feels when he helps the rancher out of a jam and rides off into the sunset. Cool.' Not only that, the Saturn is silver to boot! Get it? Silver, hahahaha. Hi-yo, Silver!! Hahahaha...

Except the Ranger never tooted his own horn in a weblog, I guess. Which reminds me of the following(which is okay for me to present because I am part Susquehannock Indian, after all):

The Lone Ranger and Tonto head into town to rest up from the dusty trail. They're off duty so they go into a saloon to have a beer. Soon a cowboy walks in and asks, 'Who belongs to that big, white stallion out there?' The Ranger replies, 'That's my horse.' 'Well, he's lookin' a little overheated, mister. You better tend to him.', says the cowboy.

Sure enough, Silver's looking sweaty and panting like anything so the Ranger draws him a drink from the water trough. But the horse is still a little peaked looking. The Lone Ranger thinks for a moment, then has a bright idea. 'Say, Tonto. How about we take turns running circles around Silver? If we run fast enough, it'll create a nice breeze and it'll cool him down faster.' 'Hmmm, good idea', says Tonto. 'I take first turn, Kemo-sabe.' 'Good man, Tonto.' And the Ranger goes back inside to finish his beer.

Soon a cowboy walks in and asks, 'Who belongs to that big, white stallion out there?' The Ranger replies, 'That's my horse. What's the matter now?!?' 'Well, mister,' says the cowboy, 'You left your injun runnin'.

"Hahaha, isn't that funny, Silver?"  "The name's Ed. That's Mister Ed to you. And where's Wilbur?"

Twos-day

So I cut the grass tonight, actually got ahead of it a little so there are no big clumps of grass thrown hither and yon afterward. Looks pretty good, still have to trim tomorrow night and clean some edges here and there. Down back there are four little, well, not so little anymore, apple trees. I don't know what kind, they're little green apples is all I know. We've never trimmed or treated them so we don't pick the fruit or eat them or anything, they just end up as mower fodder and yellowjacket bait. I thought tonight, don't ask me why it hasn't occurred to me before, as I was dragging the mower back and forth under them, 'All these little apples going to waste. Maybe the horses down the street would like them!' So I took a handful and went to ask the owner- without a doubt the tannest white man I have ever, ever seen. He is so dark, his skin is like a dark leather color and looks thick, sort of reminded me of bacon -who was out doing some lawn maintenance himself. He saw me coming and started shaking his head, said they don't like people offering the horses anything over the fence because then they get the idea everything that comes over the fence is food including little people fingers, leading to potential injury, the horse not being the daintiest eater or most careful biter of foodstuffs in the animal kingdom, and lawsuits and so forth. I'm glad I asked instead of simply assuming it would be right neighborly to feed the pretty horses.

There's a stable/riding school just down the road from us. Every so often they bring a trail group over the hill and right down the street. I'd like to ask one time if I wear my Hoss getup can I maybe get a picture. I've been on a horse twice in my life, once to sit for a picture on my Aunt Marvella's horse, General, and once for a short ride on her pony, Freddie. I might have been ten and could not get him to follow the rein for anything, he knew he was in charge and stopped to scratch himself on a post, dragging my scrawny lower leg with his itchy haunch, back and forth, until Marvella rescued me from his self-serving ministrations.

What's the deal with the picture in the bio box, I wonder?

Does it just not show up for me? Can anybody see it? Or is it just a red X...? It's over on my Yahoo! album, maybe AOL spits those out! I dunno...

zzzz... wow, it's tomorrow already. Tuesday, Martes. Isn't the ...what's the word for 'word origin', uh... derivation, etymology, that's it. Not to be confused with 'entymology', the study of insects. Of 'martes', the Sp. for Tuesday, I wonder? How about 'Tuesday' for that matter?!?

Oh, brother, Jimmy, bassist for my recently departed garage band, stopped by my workplace with a tape copy from the finished CD of the recording we did the other week. Jim, I love ya man!, but, ouch! Ouchie! OUCH! For the love of...! Stop, Stop, STOP!!! For as cool as it all sounded in the headphones, it's a mess on tape. If there were one song that came off without a serious screwup... but they all have their gaffes and worse. I don't know, I think maybe we were all a little terrified of making it good for the recording and tried too hard. Or something.

Maybe the CD sounds better, maybe just the cassette quality... is... poor. >shudder< But, hey, it was fun! That's what counts. If it's not quite music, well, that just means I need a few more (dozen) years practice. And some kinda miracle that makes my fingers work better! Like a leather jacket and a Motorhead T-shirt...

I think I'll go back to playing bluegrass now... quietly... by myself... in the basement. Bring on the banjos! And the brown jug. If that don't make it sound good, nothin' will! "Hoo-doggie!", said Jed Clampett.

'Nuff already. Too late. Head nods. Sleep calls. Lethe beckons. Hahaha. Lethe... Sandman. Monsters under the bed, Calvin. zzzzzz....