I'd be singin' in the rain.....

if I could sing....

There’s just something about a rainy morning that makes you want’a yawnnnn...‘n stay in bed ‘n say t’heck with going to school....or work...or, well...whatever....
It’s not quite the same waking up to a rainy morning, feeling all lazy ‘n snug ‘n slightly guilty for not getting up when you’re one of those old retired people ‘n you c’n pretty much sleep in whenever you feel like it....
The joke that almost ever’ newly retired person makes at least a few times is that every day is a weekend now....that ‘n the bad thing about being retired is that now you don’t get the holidays off....
Still, it’s hard to beat a lazy, rainy morning when the most pressing reason to go outside is becuz little dogs want t’go outside no matter the weather....well, old dogs not so much but, the young one still views the world as a place of great ‘n wondrful adventure with chickens ‘n squirrels....’course, if you’re a retired person with young grandchildren, they’re much the same as young dogs ‘cept they don’t run quite as fast....walking in the rain on a Saturday morning with a child gives you the chance to re-see the world as a great ‘n wonderful adventure with puddles of rainwater to jump in...
I’m not sure anything in the world is quite as satisfying as jumping up ‘n down in a puddle of rainwater....
Y’know, sometimes you just gotta wait until evening to find out how nice the day has been....

Those Autumn leaves......

Here t’is late Friday nite....well, late for a septugenarian anyway ‘n for da boyz...
Rusty’s no biggie... he just stretches out ‘n goes to sleep wherever but Willie....after awhile Willie gets impatient with us ‘n goes off t’bed on his own...independent little cuss sometimes...
We had stuffed bell peppers for dinner...’n I’m still eating them...well, still tasting them is what I really mean....we don’t have them often ‘cuz I kind’a curl my lip at their suggestion but Millyrose likes stuff like that ‘n since my appetite has sort’a gone away for awhile ‘n Millyrose gets frustrated in her attempts to find a meal that interests me, I find it’s in my best interests if I just shrug ‘n say okay to whatever she suggests....altho’ she’ll prob’ly disagree with that....on the other hand, I could point out that we’ve had several different types of soup lately ‘n I ain’t a soup person most of the time....I mean, I’m okay with soup beans ‘n cornbread....I’d like ‘em better if I could eat a chunk of raw onion with ‘em but raw onion doesn’t agree with me anymore...
I like fried potatoes with my soup beans ‘n cornbread....not that sweet yellow mush that passes for cornbread at places like Marie Callendars but white cornbread with a crust made in an iron skillet ‘n served with lots of butter.....beans ‘n taters ‘n cornbread, all washed down with a big glass of milk...if I was a real, old-fashioned Kentucky hillbilly, I’d have said a glass of cold buttermilk but I never could do that buttermilk thing....Mom ‘n Dad could, and did...but they were authentic and I came of age in the ‘fifties...
Anyways the weather is cooling now, the rain is coming...it’s Autumn, the leaves are changing ‘n it’s time for soup beans ‘n cornbread... Kentucky cornbread made with white cornmeal ‘n buttermilk ‘n baked in a cast-iron skillet.....

A somewhat congenial spot....

O what a beautiful morning....albeit a bit chilly....’n my heater is on...when the heat comes on ‘n we’re still in October it ain’t a good sign....bodes ill for the gas bill which thank Gawd for green apples ‘n little favors, only has t’be paid during the winter months ...well, generally November thru February ‘n maybe a few days in March...
As I get older I find more ‘n more that I’m a fair-weather kind’a guy...I think that Fair Oaks should be like Camelot where the law stated that the ‘weather must be perfect all the year’...’course, it’s prob’ly unreasonable to expect that in a place like Fair Oaks which is only a reasonably congenial spot where we somewhat arbitrarily change the time which is upcoming sooner rather than later when we routinely conform to the bi-annual insanity where we Spring forward ‘n Fall back which means that we have to turn our clocks back an hour which is confusing to people ‘n little dogs....the chickens, of course, have no respect for the peccadillos of mere people..they have their own time clocks....
A lot of people who ‘simply rave about’ the fearless, feral fowl of Fair Oaks seem to have learned their chicken lore from cartoons ‘n believe that roosters only crow to wake up the sun brake for chickens when they come driving thru the village... You see a lot of people stopping to allow the chickens to cross the road....well, California has a law giving pedestrians the right of way ‘n I s’poze a lot of people think it applies to chickens as well...some of the motorists get a little impatient at the meandering chickens ‘n will toot their horns at them...they never really lay on the horn, y’understand, that’d be rude...they do the polite little tap-tap which the chickens ignore.....if they really laid on their horn, the chickens ‘ud ignore that as well....I’ll tell you what the chickens don’t ignore however....if you don’t stop for them, if you don’t even slow down for ‘em.....they won’t ignore you...they ‘ll get out of the way....’n if they make a mistake ‘n don’t move, after they come into contact with the car bumper ‘n the impact sends ‘em rolling along the pavement, they’ll cuss you out something awful....since I don’t really speak chicken, I never know exactly what it is they’re saying, but as an old southern boy, I know when I’m being cussed out......

A quiet, rainy Sunday morn....

It’s a rainy, quiet Sunday morning ‘n by all rights, I should be sleeping...which is what I was doing ‘n I was doing a pretty good job of it too until Willie started walking all over me....Willie starts by nudging....just a little bit at first...but he’s impatient (young, y’know) ‘n if I don’t respond to a nudge, why he just starts walking on me ‘n when he gets up close t’my face, he begins pushing with his front paws....it’s a little surprising how much weight he can generate considering that he only weighs about 17 or so pounds....anyway I’ve learned from experience that he’s not one to give up....when I finally managed to sit up, I found Rusty sitting beside the bed staring at me...I guess he’s learned that if he wants t’go out, he should just tell Willie ‘n let him do the work of getting me to my feet.....
So there’s a steady drip, drip, drip from the porch roof but the short path to the side yard leads me into a maelstrom..well, maybe not a maelstrom but away from the house, the wind is blowing...feels so good when you first get out of bed to walk outside ‘n have the wind blow cold raindrops down your neck....ain’t quite like taking a cold shower, more like a faint mem’ry of a cold shower but just as effective when it comes to waking a body up....ah well, a little coffee, a piece of toast ...’n the Sacramento Bee which recently sent me a notice that they were going to start charging extra for their Holiday Editions...”Hellfire!” As my old Dad use’ta say, I don’t think it’s worth the regular price they’re charging now but that’s pretty much the ‘liberal’ point of view on how business works anyway....provide less, charge more ‘n blame the public for not understanding the message......
I’m just sayin’.....

Weather notes.....

Just out walkin’ in the rain....me’n Rusty ‘n Willie...we didn’t even get t’the halfway point in our little stroll when the raindrops got fatter ‘n wetter...Rusty didn’t mind turning tail ‘n coming home but Willie saw no need for it at all..’course, Willie is young ‘n the raindrops don’t bother him much....
me ‘n Rusty being older ‘n California raindrops being on the chilly side decided us in a hurry howsomever ‘n in a hurryup caucus ‘n me with the deciding vote, we headed home where for the first time in months, the furnace kicked on....I guess our long summer is finally over...it was a pretty good one as summers go...better than most, as a matter of fact....Summer here in nothern California tend t’be on the warmish side, hovering in the 90’s a good bit of the time ‘n with a number of days going over the century mark....this year was an exceptional year in that regard...we only had a few days in the triple digits ‘n managed to maintain our welcome ‘n highly valued ‘Delta Breeze’....a lot of norCal don’t get the Delta breeze ‘n that’s a fact....south of Stockton don’t get it ‘n nighttime temps down there tend t’stay in the uncomfortable zone ‘n ‘way up in norCal, they don’t get it at all...ever....why one nite, a long, long time ago, I was in Red Bluff, sitting in a saloon at 1:30 in the A.M. trying to cool off with a low-alcoholic beverage ‘n passing the time with some of the local residents... the outside temperature was 113 degrees ‘n the locals were comparing it to remembered heat waves of days gone by...As I stated, this was in days gone by ‘n most taverns ‘n such weren’t air-conditioned back then....what they had was big ceiling fans that eddied ‘round ‘n ‘round to give the illusion that somewhere there might be, must be a cooling breeze....
Anyways, it appears today that our long ‘n somewhat languid summer is over ‘n we’re faced with another Sacramento winter...
Last winter, we had lots of rain ‘n lots of snow on the Sierra....(by the way, sierra is plural meaning mountain ranges, as in more than one mountain...I only state the obvious herein becuz so many teevee announcers keep referring to the sierras)
Lots of snow in the mountains is good becuz ever’body down here in the valley uses lots of water in the long hot summers.
plus, we got to send a whole big bunch of our water down to the folks in La La Land to keep ‘em from coming up here....not that I’m prejudiced or anything against those southern Californio’s...like Juan Williams, I don’t hold with bigotry ‘n racism ‘n I believe everyone should stand equal before the law....it’s just that the thought of southern Californians coming here en masse, so to speak, makes me nervous.....
I’m just sayin......

Sometimes, someone really is after you.....

”Paranoia strikes deep,
Into your life it will creep,
It starts when you’re always afraid,
You step out of line,
the man come and take you away.”
S. Stills


Millyrose is ticked off...No, more than ticked off....Pissed!...not quite furious but seriously pissed.....NPR wuz her fav’rite radio station, she turned it on the minnit she started the car....well, at least as long as I wasn’t with her...but in the kitchen, I didn’t have any say about it at all...the radio in the kitchen is set to NPR ‘n when I, on occasion, change the station, I get a really dirty look ‘n had to change it back immediately, if not sooner....
And now, she is seriously pissed because they fired Juan Williams for saying that he wuz a little paranoid about Muslims on a plane....well, hellfire as my old dad use’ta say, most Americans, at least those who fly, are a little paranoid about Muslims on a plane...same as we get paranoid when someone leaves a backpack in a public place...WHICH if you saw the nooze yestiday with the famed Galleria Mall burning....a backpack was the culprit....
See, the werido who ackshully started the fire had a backpack that someone tho’t contained a bomb....so, when the Fire Dept got to the Mall location where there was only a small, easily containable fire, they were restrained(?) for fear of the possible bomb....ain’t teevee, folks....no impossibly handsome actor rushing to save the day...
nosirreebob....so the conflagation conflaged ‘n we had a real fire with lots of Firemen, SWAT teams, snooze-nooze heliochoppers ‘n millions of dollars in damage with millions of dollars in lost income to come from all the lost jobs....Is it any wonder that Americans are just a little bit paranoid what with Muslim Terrorists, homegrown Muslim Terrorists, good old boy American Terrorists, ELF Terrorists ‘n the ever-present plain old whacked out Wonderland druggies...We got a right to be paranoid....

Leftovers.....

I asked Millyrose what she had in mind for dinner t’nite....it was just a casual kind of question cuz if she didn’t have anything special planned, I wuz gonna suggest pizza....She whirled to face me ‘n barked out, “We’re having chili. It’s on the stove.”
I tho’t she was daring me to object to what wuz ackshully leftovers cuz she knows I don’t much care for leftovers...
Taken aback, I c’d only stare for a moment, then mainly cuz I’m too durn old t’fight ‘n too lazy t’run, I busted out laughing...’n the more I laughed...well, heck...the more I laughed...until I was crying ‘n my stomach ached ‘n Millyrose was laughing also but she didn’t know why we were laughing ‘n the more she asked me, why the harder I laughed....which come to think on it, ain’t that durn funny anyway.....
So, we had leftover chili for dinner...’n some crackers...I put butter on my crackers when I have chili...it’s a habit I picked up many years ago from a buddy I had back then by the name of Larry Harkins...well, his name was Paul Laurence Harkins ‘n he wuz from Bakersfield, California...before I met him, I’d never had butter on crackers, had never even tho’t of it....Heck! I didn’t even butter my bread back then....well, except for toast...I buttered my toast but that wuz about all...didn’t eat a lot of butter back then...
We were in Okinawa ‘n the cooks at the chow hall where we ate always toasted the bread becuz the bread wuz always stale...
I never buttered my bread but I always buttered my toast so I began to butter my toast that I had for ev’ry meal....One day we had chili ‘n Larry Harkins buttered his crackers...I tho’t that was funny ‘n said sumthing about it...he said he’d always buttered his crackers ‘n didn’t know anyone who didn’t ‘n tho’t it was a little werid that I didn’t butter mine....well, t’make a long story even longer, I began to butter my crackers.....that was ‘way back in ‘57 ‘n I’m still doing it...He wuz the guy that introduced me to tortillas also....I had never tasted a tortilla, didn’t even know what they were but his Mother made really good tortillas...

What was it Rodney King said?.....

Here’s the deal....Celebrating diversity is okay....marching to the beat of a different drummer...Hey! Not a problem...but when you’re marching toward an objective, it’s best if ever’body marching together listens to the same drummer, marches to the same beat ‘n pretty much stays in step with each other....that is, of course, if you have a unified objective....if you don’t, then you can walk any way you please, listen to whatever music plays inside your own head ‘n mill around in a circle until ever’body gets dizzy ‘n falls down.....
During World War II, Americans marched in lockstep (not entirely, of course, for we are after all Americans ‘n everything good ‘n bad that implies)...we all heard the same drummer ‘n diversity was not only not celebrated, it was put away for the duration....’n the country prospered as it had never prospered before...we went into the war a fledgling power on the world stage, we came out of the war a screaming eagle, dominating the world landscape...
‘n all eyes turned toward the USA...we were the idol of the world, the envy of everyone, a Rock Star among countries....
Everyone wanted to be American ‘n have what Americans had, ‘n they flocked here in their tens of thousands, their millions, to live the American dream....
But when they got here, they found it was hard to give up their own identity....their own rhythms, their own music, their culture, that indefinable thing that made them unique, their nationalism...
That inner core that made them Italian or Greek or British or whateverish...so the USA, already a nation of immigrants, a celebrated melting pot of diverseity, welded together by war into the mighty mongrel that was the baddest dog on the block found themselves searching for a new identity.
And the immigrants that had proudly identified themselves as Americans became Irish-Americans ‘n Italo-Americans ‘n so on ‘n so forth ‘n we began to celebrate our diversity, our differences, ‘n forgetting that it was a common goal that had forged us, a nation of immigrants from every corner of the world, into Americans.
We’re all Americans, of course, no matter our differences. We’re white ‘n black ‘n every color inbetween. We’re Christian ‘n Jewish, Muslim ‘n Hindi. We’re theists ‘n atheists ‘n deists. Hell, we’re even scientists, which is becoming more ‘n more a western religion. But, still, at least for the time being, we’re all Americans......
T.S. Eliot said,“I grow old, I shall wear my trousers rolled..”
‘n me, well in my dotage, I ponder many things, ships ‘n seas ‘n sealing wax...’n what the morrow may bring ‘n who let the dogs out ‘n who wrote the book of love.....
I’m just sayin’.....

Gettin' old...the series, I guess.....

Well, the rock pile is getting smaller ‘n smaller....4 or 5 barrows a day is taking a toll....’n taking a toll on me as well (not really, I just like to whine now ‘n then)...
I haven’t been in the pool for what seems like f’rever but only since they did the number on my eye...’nother week ought’a do it tho’....prob’ly be a change in the weather then, maybe a little rain ‘n overcast skies to take the joy out of doing laps....not that it’s a p’ticklar joyus thing t’do anyway...just beats the stationary bicycle ‘n treadmill...well, at least for me cuz I just plain don’t like exercise....don’t seem to mind swimming all that much tho’ to be truthful, it can get boring as hell...I just stick my head underwater ‘n pretend I’m somewhere else, glance at my watch now ‘n then ‘n when enuff time has elapsed, I come back from wherever my mind has taken me ‘n get out of the pool...then, if the fates are kind ‘n there’s a bit of sun, I go stretch out long enuff to dry off ‘n get a bit of vitamin D ‘n that’s the extent (pretty much) of my daily exercise program...
I can’t really classify my walking the dogs a couple times a day as exercise cuz we go at their pace ‘n that means slow so they can smell ever’thing that may be new on their route....
Willie makes up for it as best as he can by running from side to side, chasing chickens ‘n leaves altho Gawd alone knows what he’d do if he ever caught one of those birds....he did get a tailfeather once ‘n bored the whole household to death by talking about it incessantly until something else occupied his tiny mind ‘n he forgot about it....
Y’know, people think dogs are dumb ‘n maybe don’t rationalize the way folks do, but as far as mem'ry goes, I’ve noticed that they seem to have a better knack for it than most of my old friends.....
It was Mark Twain who said that when he was young, he had an excellent memory, so good in fact, that he could remember things than never happened. After he got old, his memory worsened to the point that he was unable to remember anything except the stuff that never happened....Talking to my peers (septugenarians ever’one) I’ve come to the conclusion fictitious mem’ry improves drastically with age while factual mem’ries fall by the wayside....

All part of God's plan, I'm told.....

Strolling ‘round the village in the waning days of summer ‘n it ain’t quite mid-October yet....Me 'n Rusty 'n Willie go two to three times a day, strolling 'round 'n about the Village, seeing what we can see, chasing leaves 'n chickens 'n peafowl....it's a treat to watch the neighborhood Peahen...she pals around with a lot of chickens, all different sizes 'n colors 'n she's the biggest of the lot..
she's got a clarion call that sounds like an airhorn 'n despite her size, she flies better, higher 'n more often than any of the chicken who only take flight, it seems, as a last resort to evade Willie.....
We got lots of fat chickens ‘n squirrels despite the nightly visitations of the denizens of the riverbank, the critters who wander the dark streets ‘n yards of the Village...
They leave signs, y’know....mostly little piles of scat here ‘n there, chicken feathers ‘n the occasional cleaned bone....I’m very cautious when I take my dogs out at nite now...well, Willie always has to go on a leash ‘cuz he ain’t got a lick o’sense but Rusty listens, stays in the boundaries of the yard, is pretty trustworthy as dogs go, but in the middle of the night, when he gets me up to let him go outside, I’m never sure if it’s ‘cause he’s old ‘n has to pee or if he’s heard a critter nosing around ‘n feels it’s his duty t’go investigate...
Rusty ‘n Willie are not the largest little dogs but I don’t think a coyote would go after them if I was on the scene but I wouldn’t want either one of ‘em to get bitten...’n I don’t worry too much about raccoons ‘n possums but we’ve been thru the skunk thing once already ‘n don’t want to do it again...

Here is an excerpt from chapter VII, “A Mad Tea-party,” from Alice in Wonderland:

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.

“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “Why, you might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as ‘I eat what I see’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that ‘I like what I get’ is the same thing as ‘I get what I like’!”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, which seemed to be talking in his sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe’!”

I saw Joy Bexar on ‘The View’ saying that Christine O’Donnel is stupid for not believing in evolution. Well, Ms. Bexar should borrow a dictionary from....well, almost anyone, ‘n look up the word ‘theory’....
Creation, by our own existence (not to mention everything else) is fundamental proof that it is not a theory, but a fact...(how that creation came about is arguable but existence is not)...’n evolution, no matter how credible, is a theory...‘n not fact...I’m just sayin’...

The Insomniac: Tales from the darkside....

Four in the A.M......
T’ain’t bad enuff, we got roosters crowing at all hours of the day ‘n nite....’n last nite some critter came a-roaming ‘n upset all the dogs...we also got us a Peahen...
Peafowl are birds native to India ‘n Sri Lanka. They do not migrate which means, I s’poze, that we’re stuck with her until she dies, gets killed ‘n eaten by one of our nighttime critters or until one of my neighbors gets so tired of her airhorn voice calling in the night that she gets murdered...her voice is so irritating that some might call it justifiable homicide...
She hangs out with the chickens all day ‘n roosts with ‘em at night..she flies considerably better than the chickens ‘n takes flight at the slightest provocation...
One of my greatest fears is that some one will find her a mate ‘n she’ll begin breeding like the durn chickens....still, I haven’t seen any Peahen eggs (dunno if I could bring m’self to eat one or not...don’t like the wild chicken eggs, too strong for me now that I’m a septugenarian)....
We have a great diversity in our feral fowl here in Ol Fair Oaks....people drop off exotic chickens all the time ‘n chickens, of course, being chickens ‘n not birds of a feather breed somewhat indiscriminately, the result being some really colorful progeny.....
A lot of the tourists that come thru our little village here spend a lot of time oohing ‘n ahhing over our colorful fowl ‘n they share the mistaken belief that the birds are somehow ‘protected by law’.....
A number of people (a lot of dotty old g’parents) bring little children to admire ‘n feed these feral fowl...they take fotos ‘n encourage little children to ‘pet’ the pretty bird...we’ve been very fortunate so far, only a few people have been attacked by the ‘pretty birds’ and none of ‘em seriously hurt....I still recall the disbelief on one mans face however, as he sputtered, “that damn bird attacked me!”
And the fireman who got so upset that he called Animal Control only t’be told that the birds are wild ‘n nothing they can do...ah well, the trials ‘n tribulations of living in Eden.....what’re ya gonna do?

In continuium.....

And it seems the Poodle-Dogger 'n Willie weren't the only dogs that were wakeful last nite...almost all my neighbors, well at least those who are owned by dogs of various 'n sundry hues, were awakened at or about the same time by their faithful companions who evidently all wanted a look at the moon...or whatever it was that was prowling the neighborhood in the wee, small hours...
possibly a coyote, or raccoon, or Gawd alone knows what was wandering around in the night...ah well, I'm just sayin'.....

An insomniac's call to glory....

S’PRIZE ...S’PRIZE....Here t’is 3 o’clock in the A.M. ‘n I find m’self awake ‘n staring at the face of the ‘puter....I was asleep ‘n if it wudn’t what ya might call a ‘sound’ sleep, it was still a pleasant enuff sleep ‘n I was dreaming....what it was that I was dreaming, I don’t recall but it seems as tho’ it might’a been pleasant....
Rusty, the Poodle-Dogger, wasn’t asleep... he was wakeful....not only was he wakeful, he wanted me t’be wakeful....of course, I wanted t’be helpful as I’m most generally anxious t’please one of my faithful companions so I arose from my bed ‘n took the darned aforementioned faithful companion outside for a look at the moon...
‘n then, back to bed where I almost immediately began to doze off...at which time, the Poodle-Dogger began to fret ‘n complain ‘n when I failed to respond quickly enuff to satisfy that durn P-Dogger ego of his, he woke up Millyrose who then, in turn, got up to show him the moon...but it simply weren’t enuff...nosirreebob...he wanted me to get up again but I was determined to go back to sleep so I refused to budge...so, he woke up Willie ‘n evidently asked him to wake me which Willie did by attempting to walk the length of me...so I got out’a bed again ‘n took both of ‘em outside to look at the moon again (it was still in the same place, at least from my perspective) ‘n then back to bed....at least for Millyrose, Rusty P-Dogger ‘n Willie....
Me....well, that’s why I’m sitting here in front of this ‘puter spewing this nonsensical prose for all those insomniac ponderers whoever they might be that are able to sleep thru the night without pity for those of us that are fool enuff t’be owned by old dogs....

Gettin' old ain't etc,etc..another verse...

Gotta say (‘n certainly not becuz I want to)..went to the DMV t’day....not totally unprepared, of course, just.....well, guess y’hadda be me...
Now as you may know...or maybe not...I’ve had some eye issues...nuthin’ out’a the ordinary for a septuagenarian (talk about your fifty dollar words)...I had a cataract removed ‘n the biggest problem I’ve had with it is that now the right lens in my glasses is out of kilter...I can’t quite see well enough to read w/out the glasses but with my present specs, the right eye is blurry....’n the left eye, I have an astigmatism which means that without the corrective lens, everything is blurry...’n I won’t get my eyes checked again until the end of this month.....but, I was s’pozed to get my license renewed on or before my birthday last month but I had to have eye surgery so I put it off...making a long ‘n dull story short(er) I durn near failed my eye exam at the DMV, just barely squeaking by...but I did get by....THEN I went to stand in line for a new picture (didn’t look too awful bad from the middle of my face upward but the lower portion looked like a jowly Michael Douglas on a really bad day...’n then I went ‘n missed 3 really easy questions out of 18...at home, I took a 50 question quiz ‘n only missed 4 ‘n thought I corrected them but missed one of the same ones t’day...(SHAME SHAME)...in the long run, I managed to squeak by but it was a humiliating experience....
The Buddha said, “All things will be made clear in the fullness of time.”...but, I don’t think he ever had to stand in a DMV line...
I’m just sayin’.......

Promethus unbound....

As you may or maybe not know, Promethus was the dude in Ancient Mythology (is there any other kind?) who had to push a rock uphill ever’ damned day forever....Now what they don’t talk about is the unsung guy who worked the nightshift ‘n had to move that damned rock back down the mountain so’s Promethus could start pushing it back up the next morning...
What I’m getting at here is that there is a pile of gravel here on top of Crestline (why d’ya think they named in Crestline anyway) that I’m barrowing down the hill ev’ry day...
‘Course, I’m not trying to take it all at once, just 3 or 4 barrowsful a day ‘n there ain’t no one replenishing the pile...it’s growing ever smaller day by day....when I was younger, I would have taken it all away in one swell foop (or fell swoop) which might have resulted in one long day but I’d’ve had it done ‘n forgot about by now...but that was once upon a time ‘n now I take a much more philosophical approach, ie; gives me sum’thing to look forward to which may or may not be a sad commentary on my life or maybe just a commentary on my sad life or “Whatever suits you just tickles me plumb to death” Marion ‘Howdy’ Lewis....

A positive tho't couldn't hurt...could it?

Here t’is Sunday eve ‘n I find m’self wand’ring ‘round ‘n about Tumbledown Manse, bored with television, bored even with computer Solitaire....I’ve washed the dishes, a complicated thing these days consisting of placing all the necessary items inside the dishwasher, adding a block of soap ‘n turning the darn thing on ‘n getting out of it’s way so it can do the job it’s s’pozed t’do....ditto for the washing machine...I c’d run the darned old vacuum cleaner 'n wake the dogs, I guess, but that seems like a totally wussie way to end the day....da boyz are pretty much ignoring me, Willie sprawled in the middle of the floor like a little black ‘n white throw rug ‘n Rusty lying beside Millyrose’s chair, lifting his head occasionally to give me a quizzical look...”I ain’t sleepy ‘n there ain’t no place I’m goin’ to”.....random tho’t’s in a random mind....the only thing that’s unusual about it is that normally this happens to me in the wee, small hours when I c'n blame all the wacky thoughts on insomnia....just makes a body think....’n wonder....or ponder....
Thinking is one of those things that’re almost always positive....but sometimes a body c’n over-think ‘n find hisself full of doubt about his position...on the other hand, if George Custer had given his problem just a little more thought, he might have chosen discretion as the better part of valor...’course, hindsight is a wonderful thing but you gotta stay alive to appreciate it.....

Insomnia tho'ts....

I’m old enough now to know that I can’t speak for women so when I generalize about something, it’s pretty much from a guys point of view....’n I was just thinking that there are three kinds of men...the ones that learn by reading....the few who learn by watching someone else ‘n the rest of the herd that just have to pee on the electric fence ‘n find out for themselves.....
Now I wonder about lots of things in the middle of the night ‘n I was just wondering about this thing called ‘science’....I know a couple people who think of themselves as ‘scientists’ and I don’t have any quarrel with their believing that. I call myself a writer ‘n there’s a whole lot of people who’d disagree with that..
Of course, I know some people who think of themselves as Christians and I, likewise, don’t have any quarrel with that. I once was acquainted with a man who thought of himself as a ‘Black Muslim’ and yet again, I didn’t have any problem with that.
Now, my friend, the Black Muslim (who shall remain nameless) did not like ‘White People’....indeed, he professed to me that he hated White People...I pointed out that I was a ‘White Person’ and I didn’t hate him, that I barely knew him and since he didn’t know me, it was somewhat irrational of him to hate me.
He thought about it for a moment or two, no more, and allowed as how I might have a point and that he didn’t really hate me, he just hated ‘White People’ in general.
So I told him a story about attending a ‘Yankee Go Home’ rally in Naha, Okinawa...about how a friend of mine and myself shouted “Yankee, go home!” as loud as everyone else at the rally. And then I told him about the party I attended after the rally.
It was a pretty high-tone party with politicians and business people and my friend and I were only there because of my association with the military newspaper which wasn’t really good enough to warrant an invitation but I kind of, just sort of exaggerated my position. Just a little bit...
My buddy was a half-breed Oklahoma born son of a ‘sooner’ family and me, just a ‘good ol boy’ from the hills of eastern Kentucky and we were having a good time. Well, y’know, free drinks ‘n snacks.....
But the ongoing conversations were all of an anti-American sentiment and after a bit, even with the free food and drink, we two country boys began to get a little peeved ‘n began to take the remarks personal...
Now, truth be told ‘n I always strive to be truthful (more or less)...my buddy just wanted to leave... “cut a chogie”
as we use’ta say in our pidgin Japanese...
Hark wasn’t gonna say anything, he was just gonna leave.....but I’m sort of a big mouth ‘n don’t always know when to keep my mouth shut ‘n besides I’d had just a sip or two or thereabouts, so I got on my high horse ‘n told my host that I was insulted ‘n that I’d have no more of his free booze....
Japan, like the American south of my youth, puts a high priority on politeness....’n like the American southener who doesn’t always mean it when he says, “Y’all hurry back now!”... my Japanese host viewed my huffiness as a loss of face to him personally ‘n he began to apologize profusely for having offended us, telling us that he had not meant that they didn’t like us personally, it was the American government that they didn’t like.....well, Hark ‘n I got over our huffiness ‘n stuck around to lap up some more of that free sake....’course, we never ever got invited again but then we never really expected to.....
Anyway, the Black Muslim and I became friends. We had both grown up on the Ohio River...he in Cleveland ‘n me in South Shore ‘n as Ohio River boys, we had a lot of likes ‘n dislikes in common....I don’t think I ever changed his mind about White People in general but I changed his mind about me....
I’m just sayin’.....

Round toit's....

Boy Howdy....guess I just ain’t used to the bachelor life anymore...’course, I’ve been married so long that actual bachelor life is one of those primordial memories, y’know, so long ago that it takes a DNA specialist to dig it out...
Anyways, me ‘n da boyz are gettin’ by tho’ Rusty still jumps at ev’ry noise ‘n runs to the door looking for Millyrose....ever’ so often I have to let him out so’s he c’n run ‘round the car t’make sure she ain’t there...
I been pushing a few barrels of ‘free’ gravel down the street ‘n dumping it in out in the south forty...well, an old overgrown pathway on the east side of Tumbledown Manse...’n it sets my shoulder to aching, ‘specially at nite, so when I couldn’t sleep last nite, I took a couple advil ‘n a sleeping pill (left over from the chemo) ‘n finally drifted off ‘bout 3:30 or so in the AM...’n didn’t get up until tennish (anyone) this morning, whereupon I made some sourdough biscuits, fresh coffee, fed da boyz, took the sad SacBee ‘n a jar of blackberry jelly out on the veranda of Tumbledown Manse ‘n enjoyed a leisurely breakfast...life is hard! Well, somewhere the sun is shining ‘n somewhere children shout ‘n even tho’ there may be no joy in Mudville...
etcetera, etcetera...t’is a pleasant day here in Ol Fair Oaks.....

Ah God, it's just one birthday after another....

Along the line of ‘gettin’ old ain’t for wusses’ I was just thinkin’ the the older I get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for.....I was waiting in line this afternoon to pick up some prescriptions for Millyrose ‘cause she ain’t here...she’s down in SoCal with sister Francisca enjoying the rain ‘n cool weather of Big Bear....a cottage on the lake, she said....That’s alright with me, I try never to go to SoCal...I prefer my doses of southern California in old movies..
Now that I think on it, seems like a lot of my favorite places only exist in old movies....
Like San Francisco....one of the most beautiful cities in the world, at least up thru the ‘fifties....in the ‘sixties, the golden age of hippiedom, the City by the bay became a mecca for every lost soul that couldn’t find any other place to belong.....it was still a magical place, Baghdad by the Bay, with the San Francisco Chronicle that had possibly the greatest selection of columnists ever assembled on one newspaper.....Herb Caen was the ‘town crier’ ‘n whatsisname on the radio, on KSFO....Don Sherwood, was addictive which was true of a lot of things in SF in those halcyon daze....’n of course, the San Francisco Giants plus the exciting, irreverent Oakland A’s with Charlie Findlay...what a combo.....
But I digress.....Millyrose is in Big Bear ‘n I’ve been having difficulty explaining that to the Poodle-Dogger....he keeps running to the door with ev’ry noise...I let him out, he runs around the car ‘n comes back looking puzzled....Willie, on the other hand, seems almost blase about the whole thing...when it gets on toward this time of evening, Willie gets blase about most things...he looks like a little black ‘n white rug in the middle of the floor.....I keep telling him that I’m going to have him freeze-dried so’s I c’n just move him from spot to spot but he ignores me...The voices in my head may not be real but sometimes you just gotta ponder them...I’m just sayin’......

Proving yet again that old age ain't for wusses.....

I just noticed that I haven’t blogged anything since the 20th of September...
dunno why...well, maybe a little...the 21st was my B’day but I don’t think that had a lot t’do with it....I’ve been doing a little yard work but since I’m not supposed to bend over or lift more’n 25 lbs, that couldn’t’ve been the reason either...I’ve been reading a lot of other peoples stuff...a lot of pictures posted by Joe Hannah of South Shore, Ky...I don’t know Joe...he’s younger than me...I knew his dad, he was older’n me but I knew him....anyway Joe has been posting a lot of old pics of the area back there... interesting stuff for me, not so much for anyone else tho’....he posted a picture of Fullerton ‘n South Portsmouth the way it looks t’day...I made a comment that some may call it progress but to me, it was just change ‘n change is inevitable, except maybe from a vending machine....I dunno, I’m just sayin’.....
Anyways, here in Ol Fair Oaks, we’re having some really great weather...not so great elsewhere....floods, droughts, fires...I guess it depends on what side of the global warming debate you’re on...if you find yourself involved in an argument about that p’ticklar subject, lemme remind you what my grandfather had to say...grandpa had a reputation for wisdom based on the fact that he thought it was better to let people think he was dumb rather than talking ‘n proving it....anyways, grandpa always said not to argue with an idiot ‘cuz he’d just drag you down to his level ‘n then beat you with experience....