Even though I was ecstatic at one moment as you will earn in the next post, I was horrified in the next to discover that something that lives underground had eaten four or five of my new potatoes. I have no idea what but whatever it was, it cleaned out the interior of my potatoes right down to the skin. It looked like something left on my plate after an evening at the Golden Corral.
I normally only make announcements of this caliber when we buy a new car, write another book or are having another grandbaby. I don’t really expect that we will be doing any of those anytime soon so I have to grab my news where I can. In a strange, Stephen King sort of way, I suppose this could be considered a birth announcement of sorts so without further …….. (my mind just went blank. without further what? I know there’s a word that fits that cliche, but it escapes me for the moment.)
Drum Roll, Please.
My turnip crop is ready for harvest.
For the first time in many years, I planted a fall crop of beets and turnips after the squash plants all gave out. None of the beet seed sprouted and I suppose I should go get my 95 cents back from the plant farm but I hate to appear like a cheapskate.
Now the turnips, though, that’s another story. We got a plethora of turnip plants (turnip greens, anyone??) and I noticed yesterday while digging potatoes the familiar purple and white hue of turnips poking their little heads above ground. Alleluia.
I would like for this story to be our little secret. I am already having visions of thieves driving around in their turnip trucks looking for unprotected turnip crops.
You touch my crop, Buddy, and I’ll knock you right off that turnip truck.
I am starting work on my newspaper column for next week in which I will be writing about digging potatoes with a bad back. I would like to use a sentence describing the harvest that will read “Scampering around on my hands and knees like a white house intern.’ or words to that effect.
Should I say something like that in a family newspaper? Or would people still even understand the reference??
Susie and I are starting a new project today in her craft, paint and general getaway room. We are ripping up the old orange shag carpet(circa 1979) and then I (circa 1940) plan to install a wood laminate floor.
Whenever we start something like this, Susie always fixes my favorite breakfast of eggs, grits and toast to get me in the mood to work. This morning, I sat down to the eggs, toast and something that resembled grits. They were a bit runnier, were yellow rather than white and lacked the consistency of a good mess of grits.
“What did you do to these grits?” I asked?
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to salt them.”
“No, not that. They’re yellow.”
“I accidentally put too much butter in them.”
“But you never put butter in my grits.”
“Okay”, she sighed. “I bought yellow grits this time. I thought we could use a change.”
“I never heard of yellow grits.”
“They’re something new. I hear a lot of people are buying them. Apparently folks really like them.”
I stirred the grits around into a pile like I normally do but they wouldn’t stick together. The stuff just oozed back into the crevasses of my eggs like magma from a volcano.
“There’s something wrong with these grits.” I told Susie.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Can’t you be a little adventuresome now and then? Just eat the damn things before they get cold. I’ll buy some old fashioned grits tomorrow.”
I could sense she was becoming agitated and an agitated Susie is best kept calm.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll ea…..”
TO BE CONTINUED.
A story on Yahoo news was headlined ‘271 people throw pies at each other – break world record.’
Only 271?? I would have thought it to be much higher. This was in New York, after all, where you can get more people than that to watch the Conan O’Brien show.
I only make note of this because Yahoo is one of the electronic places where people turn to get their news nowadays, the end result likely being the end of the print media as we know it.
However, if this represents what our electronic news gathering institutions have to offer, we are in trouble.
No mention was made of the type of pie filling.
This is premiere week for the commercial television season. Our tv has been bombarded for the past month with ads for the new shows. We don’t subscribe to cable or satellite tv so when we find the time for television entertainment, it has to come from ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox or PBS.
Last night, I watched Courtney Cox, one of the old ‘Friends’ girls, in a show called…., called……., um.. er.. ah, I guess I forget what the name was. It could have been called ‘The Biggest Loser’ had that name not already been taken.
The premise of the show revolves around Ms. Cox being a recent divorcee who is desperate to get laid. It borders on soft porn (I say that like I know what soft porn is. I don’t. Honest. But if I did, I think this show would qualify.)
The show pushed the envelope and jumped the shark when Ms. Cox’s 14 year old tv son caught her performing an act on a young man she had picked up in a bar. The act can’t be described on this family friendly web log but at breakfast the following morning, her tv son took a banana away from her, stating that she was no longer allowed to eat them.
I turned it off at that point. I doubt that Ross, Rachael, Chandler and Joey could watch it either. I’m not sure about Phoebe.
I don’t consider myself a prude but if this show is all the networks have to offer, maybe they should just show reruns of ‘Wipeout’.
I’m assuming that Ms. Cox needs the money. I can’t imagine any other reason why she would do a show such as that.
If you missed the show and want to form your own opinion, better watch it soon. I doubt that it will be around long.
When the story about the 18 year old South African girl possibly being a boy, hit the news, I thought it was funny in a sad sort of way.Now I actually feel bad for this young person. It appears as if he/she was being used by the South African Sports federation to further their own agenda.
I wish Tater and the boys were still around so we could have an intelligent discussion about this.
This morning, I arose early, unable to sleep because of my penchant for waking up at 2:00 am and trying to solve all the world’s problems in the middle of the night.
I poured my morning coffe, added my 1/4 teasoon of sugar (Got to watch the blood sugar count) and got in the refrigerator for my dash of cream. (Actually, it’s 1 percent milk but I like to pretend). I noticed when I poured it into the coffee that the coffee did not change color, an unusual circumstance. When I looked at the milk carton, there was a picture of a big orange on the side of it.
Dear Ann, my question is this. Is this the onset of Alzheimers or was I still in a stupor from lack of sleep? If it would help any in determining the answer, I did not drink that cup. I considered it but orange juice in a cup of coffee looks like a big oil slick.
This is another example of why this country will not be here in 50 years. This story on bank debit card fees is frightening. I can’t add anything to this article but I’m going to make sure all of my loved ones are aware of it.
Loogootee, Indiana’s old Union Bank (long since gobbled up) of fifty years ago looks better all the time.
A few days ago, I started a project that I have been putting off for some time. Our Blacktop driveway has needed a sealcoating job for probably two years and I just dreaded doing it. It’s hard work but even if I had the money, I wouldn’t hire someone to do it. Sealcoating is the kind of job that you read about in the newspapers when the gypsies take advantage of old people and just spray on jello water or something else of that nature.
If I had a small city driveway, I wouldn’t have been dreading it but out here in the country, it takes a large driveway surface when you’re 600 feet off of the road.
I obviously don’t treat the gravel part but I do have to the place where I turn our RV around.
The umbrellas were set up by Riley Marie, who was so impressed with the new looking driveway, she thought we should have a picnic on it.
It took me about 15 hours to do the job along with 65 gallons of the sealcoating. It was much easier this time. Apparently the stuff has improved since the last time I did it about 7 years ago.
Like a lot of things, the sealcoat is manufactured in 4 or 5 versions; there’s the one year warranty, the 3 year, the 5, 8 and the 10. Each increment adds about five dollars to the cost of a five gallon bucket. I decided to go with the 10 year even though I might be wasting my money. I will be almost 80 years old when the driveway needs to be treated again. The damn thing may last longer than I do.
These were the clothes I wore to do the job. They’re now hanging in the barn while I decide what to do with them. The jeans are from my pre-heart surgery days so they don’t fit anymore. THEY’RE TOO BIG. I spent half my time pulling them up so I could walk without tripping over them. I also wanted to make sure the neighbors didn’t mistake me for Kanye West or some other hip-hop fool.
The shoes, interestingly enough are not very old. I bought them in Texas and started wearing them about the time my leg started hurting which ultimately led to the heart surgery later that year. I have always suspected the whole thing was the fault of the shoes. I’m glad they’re gone.
The little cat scratching post in the picture belonged to our cat, Winston, who was run over by some fast driving idiot, using up all nine of his lives. Susie bought it for him at a yard sale and I don’t think he ever got to use it. Life can be unfair at times.
