Ahhh, spring segues into summer. On the “morning 40,” the smells of car exhaust, honey suckle and 3-day-old road kill mingle in the air. And although a couple of weeks late this year, the local strawberries are in. I was out in the patch for a second time today, and asked the lady in the row next to me to take my picture.
As I look at that first photo, it’s funny, but I see a kid with an old man’s face, but believe me, it’s a happy face. The second shot is, well, just one of those freaks of nature. The guy in the weigh-in tent said that berries like this are caused by the way the bee pollinates the flower. I guess you could say, “he had a hand in it.” The berries have all been turned into jam, so once again there’ll be something sweet to enjoy all through the winter.
Just a bit of follow-up on that “hairy” story in the last post. The Princess read the post (she never sees them before they’re published) and said that I got it wrong. She claims she was not using a “dipilitater,” which is a thing for removing the pills that show-up on a sweater as it ages, but was using an “epilator,” which is for hair removal. My opinion, she’s just saying that now, so that she doesn’t get any grief from you all, who are naturally concerned about me. I’m pretty sure it was the dipilitater.
This news came in too late for the last post, but someone’s been shootin our squirrels!
Do you believe that? One of the incidents took place right in my neighborhood. As if crossing the street wasn’t hard enough for the little varmints, now they have to duck gun fire too. Sheesh! Like them, I like playing in the street (1), but I believe I’m going to give up wearing any clothing with fur on it for a while. No sense taking any more chances than I already do.
Our local county and city police hold a once-a-year “shred-a-thon.” They limit the amount that any one person can bring to 5 file boxes, I suppose so that no businesses show up to do their shredding. We took in two paper, grocery sacks full ourselves. After the event the county reported that over 14 tons of paper had been shredded, and for some reason they wanted us to know that it was all destined to become toilet paper. Seems appropriate to me that my sensitive information should go full circle and end up providing service to my sensitive hinder.
Oooo, this just in, I had another whacky dream last night. I was in class to take a test. It was a geography test, and don’t ask me why, but my current MD was the teacher. I hadn’t studied for the test (naturally) and it feels this morning as if I spent half of last night staring at the test paper and wondering how to answer the questions. I ended up with my head eventually drooping to the desk top as I fell asleep. I awakened to an empty class room in darkness, except for a sliver of light coming in through the window where a cat sat on the window sill looking out. Looking over at the cat I said, “Turn the lights on,” and he responded, “I don’t turn lights on.” I thought, isn’t that typical; you can’t get a cat to do anything!
Gene and I got the old boy running again last week. I did give it a brief run out out to the street, so it does have enough power now to get in and out of the garage. It doesn’t seem to be running smoothly yet, so there may be some more adjustment necessary. We also added some radiator stop leak to the coolant, and so far the coolant has been staying put. I’m crossing my fingers that we’ve solved that problem, because I’d hate to have to pull the radiator again and take it into the shop.
Finally, remember that post I did a few months ago entitled, Why Aren’t We All Italian? Based on absolutely nothing, I espoused the opinion that Italians had more hair than people of other nationalities, and on that flimsy basis proceeded to other pronouncements. Well, I’ve decided to actually research this issue, and in one of the most flagrant boondoggles of all time I will be writing off (as tax a deductible expense of this blog) a two-week cycling trip in southern Italy. When The Princess (best wife on the planet) approved this trip, she did not realize that in order to do proper research I’ll need to see a lot of naked Italians. I leave Sunday flying through Rome down to Bari on the Adriatic coast. I’ll then be cycling across “the boot” to the opposite coast. This trip could be done a lot faster, but you know…the research….
I’m certain I’ll bring back a few interesting stories from Italy and, of course, the results of my research. Thanks for reading and “a dopo!”(2)
(1) While doing “the morning 40” on the bike, I’ve had a few notable encounters with squirrels. One of them ran right through the spokes of my front wheel, while the other didn’t fare so well. He zigged when he should have zagged, and I ran him right over.
(2) No, this does not mean “you’re a dope.” According to my handy Italian phrase book it means very casually, “See ya later.”