I'm Just Saying

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.

When I hosted my radio show a few years ago a favorite segment was to keep track of what the world’s population searched for most often on the internet that particular day.

Having determined by poll (my own, burrrrp) that once again, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups are the most popular and requested Halloween candy among children (and those who behave like children), I was forced to eat the trough of kale chips I’d purchased and turned my attention towards perusing this year’s most frightening costumes.

A few days ago Paul spied our neighbor’s fox sauntering through the orchard.

I refer to the animal as my neighbor’s as he has taken up residence on their property for quite some time, complete with, I am told, sunning himself on the roof of their barn.

He is exquisite: Robust, a coat like flame, bushy tail.

Just when all of us could use a belly laugh, the late Shay Bradley of Ireland, decided a year before his death to put the ‘fun’ in funeral.

It appears I’m entering that stage of life in which the standard norms that I, and others of my make and model were raised, no longer apply.