three hours of primordial, hot and sweaty, stripped down to the bare kernel of our being, togetherness.

We’re not going to starve this winter, thanks to my good friend, Larry Clements, who grows sweet corn by the bushel. Susie and I spent 3 hours last wednesday morning ‘putting up’ 10 dozen ears of corn.  That explains the title of this entry. If you were expecting to read about something else, you’re out of luck.

I call this composition ‘Naked Corn.’ I was going to call it ‘No husk at dusk’  or maybe ‘dusk and no husk’ but since I took the picture at ten o’clock in the morning, it didn’t seem right to do that.

It was a hot day but we worked outside in the shade and had the husks off before the temperature got really miserable. The corn was wonderful. It was a late batch so it had a few worms but we cut most of those out.

Susie also had this idea to speed things up. She had me put a 3 and 1/2 inch nail in a two by four and a cob skewered onto this apparatus held the cob quiet while I cut off the kernels.

We ended up with 95 bagged and individually frozen, cups of corn.  Make that 94 because yesterday I found my granddaughter, Riley Marie, walking around with a bag of frozen corn, eating kernels like they were M and M’s.

Okay, so I’m not what’s his name.

I’m having a Senior moment here. I know he runs around with Babe the blue ox, but his name has completely slipped my mind.

Daniel Boone, maybe?? No, that’s not right.

Any way, I don’t think any of his lumberjack titles are in jeopardy.

You will notice I still have all my appendages, count ‘em  and that damn dead pine tree is gone.   

Cue the twilight zone music.

We ran into a horrendous rain storm on our way home from Maine a couple of weeks ago. I was following the taillights of a late model Monte Carlo Chevrolet hoping that he could see where we were going but he seemed to be as lost as we were. All of a sudden, this really weird cloud started spinning slowly in front of us. It wasn’t a tornado but I thought maybe it could turn into one. The cloud was massive, had a tinge of green to it and appeared to be hanging just above the highway.  I started looking for places to pull over but didn’t see anything so I stayed on the tail of the Monte Carlo.  When I looked at it’s taillights, it wasn’t a Monte Carlo anymore. It had changed to a 53′ Bel-Air chevy.

“Take a picture. Take a picture.” I yelled at Susie and she fumbled at the camera bag. By the time she snapped the photo, the car had morphed again into a twenties model chevy (or maybe ford). 

By the time we passed through the cloud, the car had disappeared. I half expected to emerge from the other side as a virile, flat stomached 18 year old. No such luck, I didn’t even have to look in the rear view mirror to check. My ample lap and points further south bore witness to the fact that I was still a man approaching my three score and 10.    

 I do think we somehow gotten sucked up into some kind of  time warp that only worked on automobiles but I’m not telling anybody that. They might think I’m off my rocker.

The end of another chapter…

My newspaper column for this week.   It’s not even remotely funny. 

I was really worried that she might turn out to be a Mime. No more.

It now appears as if our granddaughter, Riley Marie may have some talents in the stacking arena. How much do professional stackers make, anyway? 

She learned this trick from her Great Aunt Julie in California, who has been stacking things for some years now.

Riley Marie collected these cups on our recent trip to Maine where she would gather up every drink container in every hotel as asoon as we stopped for the night. I had to have my evening pick-me-up drink in the lid of Susie’s hair spray can.  It wasn’t bad but I had to pry my moustache away from my upper lip.

Looks like she has the last laugh.

A new story on the interment of Leona Helmsley.

I doubt that the devil even wants her. 

“No. No, big guy. That’s all right. You go ahead and take her up there.”

 Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!

Win one for the gipper????? Not exactly.

The things you find in the Sports section…..

A story in the Indy Star Sports section (right next to the Michael Vick dog strangling story) tells the heart rending story of a high school football player who was shot 3 times during a drive by shoot out.

Even though there were a plethora of witnesses, it was unclear whether the lineman was the drive by shooter or was shot by someone on the front porch. No matter. His teammates are going to “rally around each other” while coping with this event, according to their coach. 

During a hospital visit, Earl (the shootee who is expected to recover and perhaps go on to Division 1-aa football) exhorted his coach to “make sure you beat Chatard.”

How’s  that for school spirit?   I expect the movie version should be in theatres by next year.

I expect the Harley Hotel folks are celebrating.

I remember back in the last century when Leona  uttered her ‘little people’ remark. Now I wonder how she would have felt knowing that her obituary (and her legacy) is to be known as the queen of mean.)  

A monumental day…..

Since my diabetes diagnosis a few weeks ago, I have been trying to shape up some so I don’t have to take medicine to control my sugar. I also went to a dietician to see if I could find out what diabetics should eat. Watching your carbs is part of the answer. This is the same thing that the Weightwatcher people tell their customers. (I think)

 Another part of the answer is moderation in everything you eat. I’m going back tomorrow night to find out more. 

When I first started this, I had this sad feeling when I thought that I would never again be able to eat beef and noodles and the notion that my fried chicken days are over was almost to much for me to bear. I am beginning to realize that a lot of the eating experience is in my head. 

When I see a future of moderation in what I put on my plate,  I’m not sure I can do that but when I realize I have done it for the past 15 days and it really didn’t bother me, it’s not so bad.  

I’m not explaining myself very well. trying to quit stuffing myself is a lot like quitting the cigarette habit.

I had withdrawal symptoms that bothered me but the biggest problem was dealing with contemplating a future without cigarettes. Even in the middle of July, I couldn’t imagine a thanksgiving dinner without a cigarette afterward. It’s been thirty years ago this month that I stopped smoking so I know giving up bad habits is possible.

Anyway,  back to the monumental part, this morning when I stepped on our new, frigging made in China , bathroom scales, I weighed under 2 hundred pounds for the first time in a long time.  I had to clean my toenails, cut my hair, get stark nekkid and throw up my breakfast to do it but none the less, its a milestone. What with the increased humidity and all, I’m sure this afternoons weight is more but hey, I’ll take it where I can get it.  

It also has some positive results, my blood sugar reading is down in the acceptable range and my blood pressure reading also came in with numbers that would make my doctor jump for joy. (Well, maybe nothing that extreme,  but he might say attaboy.)   

Incidentally, please don’t get any mental pictures of the stark nekkid remark and also I was just kidding about the throwing up part.

Who is this woman and is “star” an adjective or her first name?

And what is it she does??  I see her picture in all the checkout lanes and now she’s in my damn newspaper. I can’t even turn to Dagwood or Funky Winkerbean without having to get by her.