Today Daughter C and I hooked up the trailer and took the generator, which has a stopped float, and the 4-wheeler, which has a messed up carburetor, to our local small engine repair shop. Daughter C played with the goats at the shop. The little kids are cute as the dickens. This one had been bottle fed. He’s
Mr. Big Food found her. I’ve been so preoccupied with tailgate s*^t that I forgot to mention this. Mr. Big Food radioed me that he’d found the white hound in the Southwest Pasture and I drove down and then walked down and walked her back to the truck. She was in a sorry state, poor
I am not one to criticize local custom but, c’mon, man. Six inches is not enough. It has been so hot for so long that the cold water coming out of the “city” water pipes is warm enough to take a bath in on a cool Autumn day. The folks in charge really should think
“This means you can make The Friends of The Library Book Sale held every first Monday of the Month unless the first Monday is a holiday in which case it’s held the second Monday of the Month which is the case in September 2016. But your flight out isn’t until … scrolling down… 6:30pm so
“Marica?” “Oh, hey, Missy! What’s up?” “Ruff?” “Not much, Marica. Just thinkin’.” “ruff.” “Thinkin’ about what, Missy?” “ruff?” “Not much, Marica.” “Ruff.” (Visited 12 times, 1 visits today)
“Pardon me, Marica. Do you have a minute?” “ruff?” “Of course I do Missy! What’s up?” “Well, as you know, while you have been off reading about the Geeks, I have been… .” “ruuuffff!” “GReeks, Missy, not geeks. Rocky, don’t poke fun.” “Oh my! But of course. I did know that. Slip of the tongue–
From the Introduction: The most valuable lesson to be learned by American youth from the history of the mother country is the worth of liberty, civil and religious. And now, back to Friday. Wait. What? “I want it! I want it! Can I have it? Can I? Can I? I want to learn!! GIMME GIMME
“Okay, hey, Missy.” “Marica! I would like to tell a story. I’m sure I could do my story justice. I am well versed in the English Language. It would be a story about a little dog named Bebe and my friend Gilbert, and my dear Friend Rocky and me– I mean myself– and ” “Missy….
“Yes, Marica. What can I do for you?” “Well, it’s not what you can do for me, it’s what I’ve done for you.” “ruff?” “I’ll get to you in a few minutes, Rocky. Look at this, Missy! I bought you a book yesterday.” “Oh my! Oh my heavens, Marica!” “Ruff.” “IT’S POETRY!!!! Oh thank you,
“The chair yields the floor to Missy.” “RrrUFFff!” “I know you love Robert’s Rules, Boy. Life was better when folks yielded to Robert’s Rules.” “RUFF.” “If I may, I would like to insert into the web-log record my Dear Friend’s and my impressions of Oxford, Mississippi.” “Please do. You have the floor.” “First, a question.
We’re just one big Redneck family! Welcome, Tiger! (Visited 12 times, 1 visits today)
“Yes, Missy.” “What is happening? You seem to be preparing to disrupt our well-loved routine. I see that there’s a small bag of those tasty nibbles– on top of which you scrape your breakfast leftovers– over there by the door. My Dear Friend and I are not stupid, Marica. We know when change is coming.”
Missy: My Dear Friend, why are you so short with that sweet little Bebe thing? Rocky: Ruff? Gil: Sister’s right, Man. You do get a bit testy with Bebe. Rocky: Ruff? Me: Oh, guys! Give Uncle Rocky a break! At least he’s not snarling at Bebe any more. Missy: Truer words were never spoken, Marica.
I’ll cut to the end of the chase. Bebe was found. But that was not before we called the girls who live up front (and who have an ATV they like to drive around) and enlisted their help, stopped in at Mrs. S’s to alert her, called the vet, and left this note for the
I do not wish to burden you with too much personal information, so suffice it to say that when I can plant lettuce all afternoon garbed in little more than two pairs of socks, long johns, jeans, and a tank top… The real measure of Spring springing is, of course, what’s happening on Mr. Big Food’s grill:
“Yes, Missy! What’s up?” “I am getting sort of old, Marica… “ “RUFF!” “OH NO YOU’RE NOT!” “I am. I am almost plus or minus five years old now.” “Oh my God, Missy. I sure do love you but you really have to stop fighting me on this one. When you say, ‘Plus or minus,’
“What?” “Ruff??” “Did you smell that? It was delightful! Oh my! The smell of female deer… this time of year… .” “Um. Missy, my socks are wet after having chased after you at 8:30 pm on December 1. I’m disinclined to wax poetic with you about the deer.” “Rrrruuuuufff!!” “I know. She is so silly
“Pardon me, Marica. Do you have a moment?” “For you, always, Missy.” “RUFF!” “And of course for you, too, Rocky! What up, Chief?” “ruffff.” “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself, boy. What’s up, Missy?” “I wonder– not because I particularly care, but just because I wonder– is that feline warm and safe enough? I see on
“Pardon me, Marica. But do you have the time to do me a solid?” “Sure. … What?!?” “Ruff?!?” “What?” “What are you talking about, Missy?” “I asked it you could find the time to do me a solid. It’s a yes or no question– and not really all that important in the grand scheme of
“Well, yeah. That’s probably true.” “Ruff??” “Probably true? Probably true?” “RUFF!!” “Good Lord! Marica!!! [Insert Missy facepaw] What in the world does it mean to be ‘probably true?’ I expected better of you, Marica.” “Ruff. .” “Sorry, Missy. I could usher you through probably true but I probably wouldn’t get it right.” “Ruff?????” “Not to