Cometh Summer

This morning and for the first time in my life, I awoke with a blonde in my bed. I hope it’s true that blondes have more fun but she’s never been one to kiss and tell so I suppose I’ll never know.

The boys are doing well. Chris and Ashley had a yard sale at our house Saturday and both boys were in the sun most of the day. Sammy is as tan as a beach bum and mason is a shade darker than usual. Jaden is learning to sit alone and is always smiling. Sammy loves to play Batman and Mason likes to watch Thomas The Train on my PC but only if he sits on my lap. Sammy will be three years old in two weeks; where did time go? He is such a big boy now with a soul so gentle. Mason has to dismantle everything including his food. He has talent of a mechanic or engineer.

My eyes are still improving but still cannot stand much bright light.

Solstice is in three more days. I don’t look forward to shorter daylight but at least this year I have had plenty of porch time. My hide is tanned in places and has peeled twice already.

Only the pure in heart can make a good soup.

This birthday thing is out of control. From now on I will count my existence as scores of years. I am three-score and nine at present and I think that sounds much better than saying that I am sixty-nine years old. Sixty-nine sounds ancient but three-score and nine has a lighter note to it. Besides, saying it in scores instead of continually progressive years should make people stop and think a moment when they hear or read it. Stopping to think is good as long as you don’t do it while driving down the street. Verily, I will celebrate my next natal anniversary when I become four-score.

My heart doctor summoned me for a checkup which I was supposed to have attended just after my knee surgery last July. He tut-tutted at me and then told me what I already knew; my heart is doing fine for a man three-score and nine years of age. As soon as I left his office I went and ate a huge celebratory cheeseburger and french fries. If you are three-score and nine years old you should have learned over the decades that greasy burgers are good for ones mental health just as ice-cold beer is good for the kidneys.

Do you know me? Do you know that my favorite desert is blackberry dumplings which barely edges out banana pudding or brownies? Do you know my favorite meal is brown soup beans, mashed taters topped with peas, spinach greens, fried country ham with red-eye gravy over biscuits, green onions, and iced tea with a slice of lemon? I’ve been eating such fare for most of three-score and ten years. Heart-healthy grub and fine country cuisine.

Do you know that each evening after leaving the office I go to the kitchen, get a small or medium size tomato, grab the salt shaker and stand at the sink and feast? Now you know.

Title quote by Ludwig van Beethoven.

Tennessee

"This is the original version in original length and unaltered. Tennessee is one of Hans Zimmer's finest piece in his career in producing movie soundtracks."

Chewing cud

My eyes are at last clearing a little. I owe some of you folks email and I will get to them in a day or so … I hope.

I watched (as best as the eyes allowed) a few movies last week. I always like Morgan Freeman flicks so I watched The Magic of Belle Isle. It wasn’t a great movie but it was worth watching. I also watched a documentary about Edward Snowden and the content of the NSA  documents concerning domestic spying by our government. I also saw two of my favorite movies from the eighties: The Gods Must Be Crazy and The Blues Brothers.

We got the Escape repaired. It had bad wheel bearings. Hopefully I can soon get out on some weekends and make a few photos. I haven’t driven a car in nearly two years but I think it is time. The mountains call me and I damn sure need to find a bit of contentment in their shaded slopes.
We also got two medical bills paid off from Carolyn’s hospital stay back in 2009. We still like two more.

For me. growing old has been like a happy drunk stumbling around in the dark and suddenly finding myself up to my nose in a cesspit.

Where have all the soldiers gone ...

D-Day June 6 1944

 Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?

Lyrics by Pete Seeger

Summer begins

Evening conversation

My eyes are still messed up; will post a blog when ever possible.

Good bye, Mr Anderson

Eye drops

I feel better today than I have since before the pneumonia. I slept well last night with the help of a Xanax tablet and my eyes are allowing me to write this short blog post if nothing else. The weights on my knees are working but I don’t know how far they will go with straightening the leg. Anyway, I was able to walk better this morning and I can tell the leg feels stronger.

I’ve had some good porch time the past two mornings. The worst distraction is that there is a patch of white clover blooms in front of the porch but I have yet to see a honey bee on any of them. When I was a lad, white clovers with their attending honey bees were a bane to this barefoot boy; it was normal to be stung on the feet several time each week. Alas, the bees are all but extinct from some places and it is saddening that we so much ignore our natural world.

The title is my favorite quote from the movie The Matrix.

Mid-May already

Feeling pretty good except for my blurry eyes and perpetually sore knees. I bought ten pounds (4.5 kg) of weights to place on my new knee while the leg is stretched between two chairs. Doctor wants me to have the knee crushed again but as long as soreness from fluid is there it won’t do much good because I cannot do the exercises properly.

Have you heard the old saying “he looks like he is knocking on death’s door”? I don’t think I have been knocking on his door but I do believe I have been slumming around his neighborhood too much recently.

The boys are growing. Jaden is at eighteen pounds (8.1 kg), Mason is thirty-four pounds (15.4 kg), and Sammy is thirty-five pounds (15.9 kg). Sammy’s hair has turned a dark copper color.

When a fifteen month old little boy (Mason) walks into a room full of unused but familiar laps and comes to me to pick him up and then puts his head against my chest and his arms around my neck, it makes me feel like I have been doing something right with my life.

A plague of locusts. That is about all that is left to hit California where Jeremy and Courtney are living. So far this year they have had earth quakes, drought, flash floods, wild fires, and searingly dry winds.

May flowers

Here is my annual tribute to the best love movie I’ve seen–The Notebook–and to the song writer Dave Loggins and to the performance by Three Dog Night.

I seem to have overcome this last bout of pneumonia and I say it is the worst one I’ve ever had and I’ve had many. It took a trip to emergency room to get me on the path to being rid of it, at least for awhile. I truly thank Alice, Jola, Sandy, Mark, and Maggie for your concern and get well vibes. You all are blessing in my life.

Sunday I got a bit of a surprise. An old friend I haven’t seen in many years called me and within a few hours he and another friend from back in the day were sitting with me at my house. It was Ken Moore and Mike Townsend. Our relationship goes back to the nineteen seventy-three. I was very happy to see them.

Still here

Beginning to feel better from pneumonia. Thank all of you for your care and concern. I will answer your inspiring comments as soon as possible.

Feeling putrid

Haven’t been blogging for awhile. Going to doctor tomorrow. Probably have my annual case of pneumonia.

Mice and crackers and shoes, Oh My!

"Unless it poops droppings as big as pool balls I ain't paying it no attention." These were my words to Carolyn when she awakened me in the middle of the night and said there is a mouse in the house. She heard it rattling papers in the trash can on my side of the bed. A few moments later she turned on her lamp and I felt the air of one of her shoes whizzing by my head. Clunk; thunk. I rolled over on my back and in a few minutes we again heard the trash can rattle. Woosh ! The other shoe barely missed my nose. Whap; bang.  This must have been all mousey could stand because after another hour long vigil by Carolyn he was no longer heard. The law has been laid down to me: No more eating a snack at bedtime. It was only a package of Lance peanut butter crackers but now I am denied even that small indulgence. She has banished my trashcan so henceforth I will  have to sneak my snack before she comes home from work each evening and hide the wrapper under my pillow until morning.

This morning my bride offhandedly asked me "where are these mice coming from?" I thought for a moment and told her "Hobos". Then I had to explain that science has found a new off-shoot of the regular house-mouse species that has begun catching rides on trains as they move about the land. I told her it wasn't uncommon these days to see a bunch of mice sitting on top of boxcars as they went rumbling down the tracks. The mice sleep at night inside the freight cars and ride all day in the sunshine. When they get hungry, they jump off the train and visit houses such as ours along the tracks and I told her that the mouse would soon miss his wayward life and go hitch on the next train that stopped at at the nearby siding, all just like human hobos once did.
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Well, it is April Fools day so what was I supposed to tell her; go buy a trap and kill the little critter?

Take me out to the ball game

Once more it is near time for America’s game to begin a new season. I don’t much care anymore about baseball but there was a time when I was as passionate as the next kid about the game and all the major league stars. It was 1955 and our school principal was also an avid fan, so much so that he allowed us to quit class and go to the auditorium and watch the game on a TV which he had placed near the front of the stage. The room wasn’t huge but I hope you can imagine a flickering black and white screen no bigger than a dinner tray and tiny speakers baring as loudly as possible. I hope you can also smell fresh popped popcorn; the principal borrowed a backup popcorn maker from the local movie theater and each of us received a small bag of the treat. The game was during the World Series between the New York Yankees and the Brooklyn Dodgers, one of several “subway” series they had back in the day. I don’t remember who won the game or on which home field it was played on, but I know we true fans were in ecstasy. A lot of the kids were there just to skip classes for the afternoon. Many of us did not have television sets at home and would linger watching the game until after all the school buses ran and we ended up walking home, some of them for many miles. It was worth the trek as we discussed the game amongst ourselves  on the way. It didn’t pay to stay until the very end of the game, however. If we did, we were recruited to clean up all the spilled popcorn from the seats and floor of the auditorium. Did I mention girls? No girls attended the game viewing; not one because they were not welcome. They were all allowed to gather in the gymnasium and discuss whatever it is that grade school girls talk about and they did have popcorn if they wanted it. It was a man’s world in that era and I can only imagine what would happen if something like that was attempted these enlightened days. I suppose the refrain lyrics for this video song are still played and sung at every major league game during the season.

Wintry blues

Abandoned but not forgotten

Snow this morning and more expected tonight. I am sick of winter.

Both the Lady Vols and the men’s basketball squads are doing ok so far. They both are in the round of sixteen. The men have a chance to advance farther but the women are not playing well.

Sammy and Mason were here Sunday. They both have colds and were a bit ill tempered but we got along good. Mason is saying a few words; he is only fourteen months old. His little legs are so fat that when he walks, he waddles like a bow-legged penguin.

The lost airliner was apparently beamed up by illegal space aliens. Fox news is likely working on a way to tie Obama to responsibility for the tragedy.

Nearly all of out daffodils are blooming for the first time since we moved here.

An Idle Mind

I am neither happy nor sad that hate monger and pastor Fred Phelps of Westboro Baptist Church has died but I am glad he is no longer an American.

I’ve been watching (finally) Baseball by Ken Burns. I’ve watched some of his documentaries including The Civil War, Jazz, The War and others and I have learned much about America and its people. Our true history lies in the things we do and either succeed at or fail and not in the words of great men. If Burns never received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, he surely is past due.

It is trying to be springtime but air temperatures are still chilly; it has not officially reached the 70°F (21.1°C) mark so far this year. “They” are saying we will have snow next week. Doesn’t surprise me because our deepest snows have usually been in March and April. Fortunately they melt fairly quickly.

The front door to springtime is a photographer’s best friend. ~Terri Guillemets

" ... as virginal as the first daffodil of spring"

March daffodils

The photo was made yesterday in evening sun. First time I have used the big Pentax in nearly a year. Felt good to hold it. Little hands have surely been at it as the power switch was turned on, the batteries were dead, and every dial and switch on it was changed. I’ll need a new hiding place for it. Here are the same daffodils from last February 15.

The U.S. Congress; that august body has been wandering in the wilderness for decades, worshiping Gods of Mammon, and always just beneath the radar of blame.

Pretty weather here in the hills but the air is cool. Seems like nature is once again making us wait until the last moment for glorious spring.

It doesn’t bother me that I am but the second most interesting man in the world. This guy claims to be the most, most interesting.

My view from the far left

I wonder if anyone has asked the N.S.A. if they know where the lost plane is? If they don’t know, Google probably does.

Seems like CNN News very much wants the missing plane to be the result of terrorism. I watched about thirty minutes of their coverage last evening and became a bit nauseous as the anchor kept leading his panel back to the hijacking theme when they strayed from the subject a bit.

Speaking of NSA (National Security Agency), I think it hellishly funny that the Senate of the U.S. thinks they are being spied on by the agency. Hearings into the abomination are under way in D.C. It’s about time the worm turned; Congress has always ok’d the spying by “intelligence” agencies on the lives of we everyday public as a security priority but when they may be targets themselves, they scream “foul” and needlessly spend tons of money to find out the “facts”. The facts are that each screamer is probably guilty of some nefarious deed which the public should know about but they have kept covered under their top secret security umbrella. Phooey!

Why do we need a Homeland Security and a Defense Department? Why not allow Homeland Security to take care of homeland security and rename Department of Defense back to its moniker of War Department which it carried until 1949? After all, it is best at making war, especially in and on small countries who have a lot of oil and few soldiers.

Let’s kiss and make up with Cuba.

Behold

)

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Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love! ~Sitting Bull

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The little spring peckerwood is back! He visited a couple of times last month but this morning he was in full and glorious happiness, drumming on the side of our house. Daffodils are in full bloom and the temperature is supposed to be 72F (22C) today. Time to think about serious porch occupying. Of course it is early spring and they are calling for snow flurries tomorrow night and temperatures well below freezing for a day or two. Such be early spring. Hope the temps moderate before the gigantic Ides of March celebration which never happens.

I hope Sandy and her family were able to withstand the sizable earthquake which occurred just off the California shore from where they live.

My Lady Vols won the conference championship in three straight come from behind victories. I hope they can get a number one seeding in the Big Dance; that way they won’t have to face too many teams better than they before the Final Four. They really aren’t as good as they are ranked to be. The men’s team is also playing well but there is doubt as to whether they can get into the NCAA tournament.

Imagine: This modern tech-heavy world has lost without a trace an entire jet airliner!

Almost spring

Still winter brown but some spring green is showing

Been winter-ish for a day or two but is supposed to be very spring-like next week. I am surely ready.

Lady Vols play LSU in the SEC tournament this evening. Vols aren’t as good as I thought they would be this year but even if they were great they could not come close to beating Mark’s Ucon Huskies.

I’ve been rereading some of my stories I wrote back in the 90′s and I still like them.Wish I still had the ability to type out the words like I did then. I tried dictation software but my voice has become so raspy that it has trouble understanding me and I have to do more editing than I would have with straight keyboard input. I don’t like talking to infernal machines nohow.

Dark of the moon is at the end of this month so be sure to plant your taters at that time. Eyes up.

I saw a good movie on Netflix last week. Stand Up Guys should be seen by anyone getting along in years. Christopher Walken has been my favorite bad guy ever since I saw him in the James Bond movie A View to a Kill.

Seems like Russia is going to annex Crimean Peninsula and maybe much more of Ukraine and the West is  vainly shaking their collective fists full of dollars and euros.

Chocolate as a fruit

Johnson City's best kept secret

I recall Seaver’s bakery ‘fried pies’ from when I was a small boy. On Fridays when Paul’s Rolling Store came around, Mom would buy either a half dozen donuts or a few of these pies. After Paul left to go to the next house, Mom and I would sit in the living room listening to the radio and eating our treat along with a grape or orange soda. The packaging in the photo is still basically the same as it was sixty years ago. Back then, the pies were fruit filled but chocolate and one or two other fillings were added to the product line. Not long after I was married, we rented a house just up the street from the bakery which is still in business today. It was a good place to live if you like baking scents, which I strongly loved. They were generally known as fried pies but they were actually baked. My favorites are cherry, pineapple, blueberry, and chocolate. Those moments alone with my grandmother, sharing fresh baked treats and our favorite soda flavors will be in my best memories as long as I have recollections. Photo made with HTC phone camera.