I'm Just Saying

Not having children, I missed that whole, “Just wait till you have kids!” of which my mother warned when I was a mouthy teenager.

Pizza in the oven?” I asked, coming in from the barn.

“Yep.” said Paul.

“Great,” I replied, peeling off my work gloves. “I just need to shower, but everywhere I look I see more cat hair, so I’m going to vacuum first.”

“OK,” said Paul. “I’ll scoop out the litter box while you do that.”

When I hosted my radio show for several years oftentimes listeners would send me emails of what they considered to be funny anecdotes or noteworthy news items for me to read on-air. Some were indeed funny, some outrageously offensive, some simply uninteresting.

This is the time of year owing to its absence of mosquitoes and deer flies that Paul and I embark into the woods behind our house in order to clean up and bush hog the bridle path that meanders along a lovely half-mile loop.

Kindness is often described as ‘love in action,” and when we look around we can see evidence of that in meals being delivered to shut-ins, volunteering at an animal shelter, giving a donation to benefit a local charity…

My girlfriend, Sharon, proclaimed via ‘Messenger’ to the rest of us salivaters as we awaited the result of her latest culinary creation, that she was pretty sure the ‘Fireball’ Pumpkin Pie she was baking would prevent her from ever going back to ‘Libby’s.’

And she had the nerve to be sipping a cordial of Amaretto just to rub it in.

One of the things intrinsically southern are roadside stands. In our neighborhood, we count down the days each summer until the Hyder’s begin harvesting and selling their peaches.

I write this at 30,000 feet, ‘lucky’ enough to have grabbed a seat on a  last minute flight to Tampa to go look at another stupid horse.