letter to the editorA great many people inquired why I didn’t post anything yesterday and …. well …. okay, THREE people wanted to know why I did not post yesterday.  The answer is simple, I went to a pre-interview appointment on the Soft Porn Fantasy-camp, and it appears, I might have a shot at an enrollment in September.  (I had a doctor’s appointment and a pressing Co-Pay, that is the reality of it)

Continue reading

Jus Saying — Wednesday Hubris From The Oklahoma Panhandler

The guy in front of me orders, and then when finished looks at me, and flatly states to the girl, his name is "The Mouth From The South.” Now I did not actually know this person, and found this to be offensive. Instead of nailing him, I took it in stride, and proceeded to ignore him the rest of the evening. It seems to me that people are too quick with the name calling these days.

Enable distraction-free writing mode, and everything surrounding the editor will fade away when you start typing. Move your mouse out of the editor to reveal everything again.  Or you could move into a cave somewhere in The Sierra Nevada’s and eat granola bars until the drought is over.  Flush hard, Bakersfield needs the water.

Continue reading

Go Ahead Make My Day

imgresWell HE started it first!  It’s not my fault that he cannot outrun a lawn mower  They get that from YOU it could not have possibly come from my side of the family.

Here is your virtual greeting for the day … wait for it … Okay.  Now get the —- off my lawn.  If you cannot say something nice, then maybe it is time to be quiet.

Continue reading

Little Buddies …

best buddies

Something about summertime that stirs the imagination and invigorates the soul. Stealing off and skinny-dippin down at the Cimarron River, if mama ever knew, the lickin I would have received. Special days and times, now so precious to me.

Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter. Yellow jackets on the watermelon, honey-suckle in the air, Daddy turning on the sprinkler, letting us run thru it in our underwear. Falling asleep in my Grandpa’s lap, to the sound of his pocket watch ticking in his vest. Angel Food Cake on the counter and a silver fork in my hand.

Continue reading