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Regualr readers will notice a major change under way in the sidebar.
I've deleted some local politics links, and added a collection of links to the Los Angeles Times, and its Blogs.
I will be updating the list for the OC Register as well.
I wanted an easy way to find these interesting sources of opinion, and news, not just to read, but in case I found something worth tossing in my 2 cents on. ;-D
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Reunions are interesting events.
Especially when you have not seen people for decades...
I thought I knew how I would react, but I was wrong...
( Latecommers: The adventure begins here.)
We finally come to the small town of Buchanan, established in 1811, right next to the James River.
This being Appalachia one sees 150+ year old buildings, and bridges, and more, including more Rebel Flags than I could count.
They take their history seriously in these parts, even refusing to destroy an old building just because it currently is not in use, and hasn't been for decades. ;-D
We finally arrive at my Aunts house, where she lives with her and my Uncles 2nd daughter, who has been almost totally blind due to being a premature baby whose eyes were exposed to raw oxygen when they should not have been, when she was put in an Oxygen tank at birth.
She has less than 10% vision in 1 eye, and none in the other, but that has never held her back.
Ok, folks, if you don't have one handy, go get a hanky, because I don't want you as unprepared as I was for what happened next.
My Aunt, like my Uncle and his 3rd wife, is in her 70's, and the 3 female cousins in their 50's.
As I wrote earlier the Aunt, and 2 of the cousins has not been a part of my life since I was 11 years old.
They were as eager to see me, as I was them, and just as unprepared.
My Aunt opened the door, and I stood staring at a face from my childhood, only with snow white hair, and the wrinkles of age.
I smiled, my most charming smile, and said..."Well, hello there, young lady!"
As her face lit up in a welcoming smile, my disable cousin came into view, and I saw another face from my childhood, and we embraced close, and hard, as I said hello.
Then I turned back to my Aunt to hug her, too, my heart leaping up into my throat, and as a voice from my childhood welcomed me into her home...I lost it completely, the tears welling in my eyes as my voice could barely contain the emotions I felt at that moment.
As I hugged my oldest cousin, and she asked me how I was doing, I could barely reply intelligably..."I'm not doing too good at the moment", and so she hugged me even tighter.
I met her husband, and oldest daughter, and found a chair to sit in in the living room.
Between the 4 of us there probably was more water flowing than along the nearby James River, whho knows. ;-D
I could have stayed there for hours, and the 3 1/2 hours we had together went by far too fast for my taste.
I had the chance to talk to my cousins and Aunt, filling them in on the last 37 years of my life, as we ate sandwiches, and dessert, and learning a little about them as well.
My cousin that is blind may be physically disabled, but her mind certainly is not, and I ended up talking with her the most.
She is sharp as a tack, smart as can be, quite the storyteller, poet, and even an activist for the cause of those who, like her, have visual impairments.
Her sense of humor comes from both sides of the family, and she is unafraid to express her opinions about issues important to her, and that interest her.
She told me amusing stories about my childhood, playing with her, that I don't remember, mostly because they occurred during, or before a time of great upheaval in my young life, and my memories, naturally, are filled by those events.
I took a couple of pictures, 1 happy guy, sitting between 4 beautiful women. ;-D
Finally, reluctantly, it was time to go, and we said our good-byes.
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So off we went down the road, past the small towns, and open fields, to visit long unseen relations...
( Latecommers: The adventure begins here.)
We pass properties with lakes on them, and even one with a small island in the middle, with an American Flag planted on it, on Highway 122.
The last picture, in Chapter 4, was taken along Highway 460, which is about as close to an actual freeway one will see this far from Roanoke, and we see homes a lot closer together for a while.
As we drive along, mile after mile, of 2 lane, hilly, winding roads, along the way to 460, and even later in the journey, we pass some of what I came to call mini-plantations.
Along every main road, and side road, are places like my Uncles, large, and small, and even huge, full-blown, plantations, with Cows, Horses, and other animals, and crops.
Instead of mobile homes there were single, and two-story, wooden or brick, homes, and everywhere the ever-present pockets of forest.
We came across the occasional 2 or 4-corner intersection with stoplights, and pockets of business spread out for a block, or two, in all directions, and the occasional roadside diner, solitary used car dealer, gas station, and motel (or, um, ree-sort!)
One isolated intersection had the stoplights hanging from what I can only describe as a "clothesline", strung out, diagonally, over the road, between 2 poles!
After picking up the cousin not seen since her, and her family visited Ca. a decade before, at the Little Apple Store, we lit out on Kelso Mill Rd., and the narrow, forested, backroads return with a vengeance, with farms, and other large plots spread out along the way.
This is a narrow journey into the backcountry. ;-D
Two-lane blacktops with barely enough room for a bicyclist to pedal along the side of the road!
Hilly, winding, narrow, often isolated, often surrounded by forest, and nothing but the sights, and sounds of nature in all its glory, the cyclist, or hiker, can lose him, or herself, in solitary reverie, as they take a leisurely journey of exploration far from the man-made noise, and congestion, of big city, or even suburban, life.
During my stay in Virginia I found myself practically drooling at the all the great cycling opportunities, and wishing I could have indulged myself.
Route 43 is a Virginia Scenic Byway, and connects with the famed Blue Ridge Parkway heading up to the Peak of Otter Mountains.
As we come to the Blue Ridge Parkway we approach the campground at Peaks of Otter Lake (Click on this and the following picture, to enlarge.) we encounter enough Deer to feed a, well, um, to take pretty pictures of, hee, hee!
In all we saw 10 deer, in 2 places, and they contentedly nibbled on grass as this awestruck tourist snapped away.
Yup, I got out of the car, and crept as close as I dared, then zoomed my camera in for the shots you see here.
Bambi, and friends, couldn't give a Thumper's Ass about me, and just continued with whatever they were doing. ;-D
It was amazing!
From here the Blue Ridge heads south across the state, or north, 28 miles, to Roanoke, and is a very popular scenic Bike Ride, from one end of the state to the other.
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After getting my first daylight look at the little corner of Virginia that my Uncle and Aunt live in, we returned home, and I went out to roam the property alone. ( Latecommers: The adventure begins here.)
I walked down my Uncle's private dirt road, and the first two pictures, in this post, show what it's like, and just how far from the main road he lives. It had rained, often hard, that morning, but had stopped by 5pm, however the temperature was in the 30's, and a brisk wind had been blowing for an hour, howling through the trees of the forest all around me.
I found an old wood post to set my camera up for one shot, using my small mini-tripod with its flexable legs tightly gripping the post.
My Uncle and Aunts have several Dogs, and Cats, and even a bird, and when I returned to the house I set about taking pictures.
Through out my journey I took pictures of not just the pets, but wild animals in their natural environment.
Nikita took on the responsibility of sharing those pics, and writing about them, and you can check out his report on the birds, and squirrel, outside the window, Lucky The Cockateal, and the Dogs who live in a pen, his report about the family Dogs who live indoors, including Samantha the Rottweiler, and meet the 4 family Cats, which he wrote about when he hosted the Carnival of the Cats.
What was special for me was reacquainting myself with Poco, the 8 yr. old Chihuahua, gray of face these days, but just as playful as I remembered him, and Samantha, the Rottie with the Heart of Gold, and the brains of, well, um, let's just say that this gal is SMART! (Yodeling, and playing dead, are just her most favorite tricks!) ;-D
Sam is actually the 2nd Rott that the family Cats have raised from birth, and while the cats are far too old to romp and play with these days, she loves them all the same.
In the past, people unfamiliar with the animals would freak out when they saw them chasing, and wrassling, around the house, and Sam never hurt a hair on the little kitties heads. ;-D
My Uncle says that when raised, and trained right, this breed is the best, and most loyal, that there is.
My bedroom during my stay, by the way, was shared with the little Dogs. ;-D
After the pictures we settled down to a hearty dinner of ribs, corn on the cob, bean, and macaroni salad, then settled down to watch TV for a few hours, before calling it a night.
Before heading to bed my Aunt has one more set of chores to do, though...
Take the 4 indoor Dogs out for one last, um, Constitutional. ;-D
It's 29 degrees, and the wind is howling through the forest...
It's a sound unlike any I've heard from the big winds in Southern California.
By watching the lake, day, or night, when it rains, you can actually detect the direction that the wind is blowing by the way the rain moves on the water, including if the drafts move in circles, and it is very cool to watch.
What is even cooler, at night, is what I witnessed on this one: A clear sky, after a day of rain...
A clear sky, without the interference of city lights, so clear you could see all the stars, and pick out the constelations.
To stand in this yard in the dark, the wind howling all around me, the baby bullfrogs chirping almost like birds around the lake, and staring up into the night sky at the Big, and Little, Dippers, and all the other stars, was a truly awesome experience that I will never forget.
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WHERE'S GEORGE? is the fun, fascinating, and educational website where people can keep track of those globetrotting gents named George, Andrew, Abe and Ulysses and the rest of their Currency Commrades.
You have just bought a burger and fries at some fast food joint, bought a lotto ticket, or paid some street corner floozy for a midni, um, forget that last, you get my drift, I'm sure.
Have you ever wondered where those bills have been, or where they will go next?
Well, George seems to have spent a day or 2 playing the slots, and the cards at Pechanga Casino, in Temecula, Ca. ;-D
My 2nd hit of the month! (Read about the 1st, here.)
I got this particular dollar bill on Saturday morning, in Santa Ana, and spent it the next morning, in Orange.
3 days later the bill has traveled into Riverside County, for a Gambling Weekend, then headed over to Los Angeles County, where it was reported in from Glendora, yesterday morning:
I got this bill as change from buying dinner for my friend and I at Pechanga while he was busy playing poker. Those tacos were pretty good. Poker wasn't so good!
Technically the bill travelled only 26 miles, from the where it was registered by me, to where it was next reported, but obviously it traveled considerably farther inbetween. ;-D
For anyone who wonders just how many folks are doing this in Orange County, here are some stats to chew on:
Orange County is the 4th busiest county in the state behind Los Angeles, Santa Clara, and San Diego.
TOTAL BILLS ENTERED = 890,803
UNIQUE BILLS = 887,571
TOTAL HITS = 187,324
NUMBER OF BILLS ENTERED IN THE COUNTY THAT HAVE BEEN HIT = 85,171
Of the 58 counties in the state, the 3 with the least interested in Georging citizenry are:
TRINITY = 1,901 TOTAL BILLS (1,866 UNIQUE) (Bills entered in that county that have been hit = 238)
SIERRA = 787 TOTAL BILLS (778 UNIQUE) (Bills entered in that county that have been hit = 86)
ALPINE = 565 TOTAL BILLS (560 UNIQUE) (Bills entered in that county that have been hit = 61)
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So...after galavanting across the country, and through the woods, to grandma's my Uncle's house (The adventure begins here.), I went to bed at 4am...
And slept for 7 hours!
March 8th, 2008
As I ate a hearty breakfast, and as we got ready for the day, just out side the window, where the bird bath and feeder pole was, were 3 birds, a male Red Cardinal on the pole and, in the bath the tan red-beaked female cardinal, and a red-headed Woodpecker.
My Uncle took me outside, in a light rain, for a tour of his 5 acre property.
14 years ago a couple bought 5 acres of forested farmland, with a stream running through it.
The retired Air Force Colonel cleared the land, put up a few buildings, opened up the land around the stream, dammed up one end, except for an exit stream, and the resulting lake became populated with big, and small-mouth Bass, Catfish, Perch, Stripers, Crappies and, when my Uncle bought the place, Carp, of which there are now six, three of which are three feet long, and look like submarines.
My Uncle bought the place 3 years ago, and brought a 3 bedroom, 3 bath, mobile home on to the property for their home.
The nearest neighbors are up a hill, a quarter mile away.
In the summer my Uncle uses a John Deere lawn tracter to mow his lawn.
He has a shed with a workshop, and a small covered picnic area.
The property is fenced by barbed wire, and the woods. (Click on Thumb Nails to enlarge!)
Electricity is supplied by Appalachian Power, and he has a 14 year old, 350 ft. deep, water well, and a septic tank system.
Water is pumped out of the well, by electric pump, thru a line into the mobile home.
From 2 to 5pm my Uncle took me on a tour of the surrounding towns and hamlets.
The paved road near my Uncle's home leads to what for all intents and purposes is a dead end, where the responsibility of the State, for upkeep, ends, and a dirt road leads to even smaller, private, roads to homes, including one that is surrounded by junk of every description including abandoned cars, trucks, and a school bus, all obscured by trees.
If I still had any illusions about not being in California anymore, those where quickly dispelled. ;-D
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My vacation was finally under way, and I'd made it all the way across the country, to the City of Brotherly Love, in one piece.
Meanwhile...Nikita was settling in to life without me for 12 days. ;-D
It takes me 10 minutes to get off the plane, another 10 to locate the shuttle, and about 10 more for it to get me to Terminal F through a decent rain.
It was 815pm...
After I get a fellow traveler, who was bound for Florida, to take a picture of me in front of the newsstand, I get distracted by an Information Booth.
I asked the attendants if they had any free info books, or maps, of interest to a bicyclist, and came away with a few choice items.
Next on my agenda was the famouse Philly Cheesesteak I'd often heard about.
I spotted one on the menu of Jet Rock Bar Bar and Grill, and headed straight for it. ;-D
A guy in line told me it wouldn't be "like downtown", but hey, this was as close as I was gonna get, so I ordered one with fries, and bottled water.
It was then that I made a discovery.
Philadelphians, at least the African-American ones anyway, talk funny. ;-D
The 2 guys doing the cooking, and the lady who was cashier, had this accent that I was sure was Jamaican, or something, and was quite delightful to the ears.
When I asked where the accent was from one of the guys piped up, with a big grin, "West, Philly, born and bred!"
It was then that I noticed the same accent coming over the PA System, too...fascinating!
Before eating I learned that my flight to Roanoke was going to be a half hour late, so I didn't have to scarf down dinner in 20 minutes after all.
By 950pm there was still no word on whether my connector flight has even left Elmyra, New York.
I briefly entertained the notion of walking to Roanoke, then came to my senses.
Must have been the tasty cheesesteak sandwich. ;-D
I had tried calling my Uncle, but he was not at home.
Around 1015pm we get word that the plane is...still in Elmyra, a 45 minute flight to Philly.
An attendant I talked to said traffic "has been heavy all evening due to the rain."
A check of the Departure TV says the flight was due to leave Philly at 1040Pm, then 1130pm.
The plane finally arrived...at 1130pm, just as the rain has finally stopped.
We board the plane, and the attendant said we "have a really good head wind that means a 90 min. flight, as opposed to 2 hours."
We head on out at midnight.
Our plane is a shuttle with real, honest to God, propellers!
As we fly above the clouds I see large patches of fuzzy bright areas where cities are, and later, as we approach Roanoke, and clouds appear to have cleared a bit, I can see bright city lights dotting the landscape.
It turned out to be a 2 hour flight afterall. ;-D
Seeing my Uncle Paul and Aunt Eileen, for the first time in 3 years, I give them huge hugs.
I meet Bowen, the husband of my Cousin Elizabeth, who is 2r years older than her, and is our driver.
As we drive the 30 miles to the home of my Uncle, in Wirtz, in Franklin County, VA., the "Moonshine Capitol of the World!"(At least the rednecks call it that!), the highway went from the familiar freeway, to the familiar streets, then 2-lane highway, to gravel, to private dirt road.
At first, we travel through the city of Roanoke, then through several tiny towns, some with familiar businesses, such as Walmart, El Torito, Subway, Quiznos, McDonalds, IHOP, Lowes, Burger King, CVS, and more then, when we head deeper into the countryside, the road dips, and winds its way through thick forests, patches of fog hanging low to the ground like little clouds, which they actually are.
I couldn't wait to see it all in the light of day, but in the meantime it was 4am, and I needed a nap. ;-D
It was a looong nap...but I eventually awoke for Chapter 3. ;-D
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Last March I took an extended vacation.
I spent a few days visiting relatives in Virginia, and a week in Washington DC.
It was my first trip to both places and, while I've already written a little about the adventure here, and on my BikeBlog, this series will be my attempt to finally tell the whole story.
To paraphrase author James C. Davis: "My hardest task will be leaving out. Writing a travelogue is like packing a suitcase, you can't find space for everything." Maybe not, but I can damn well try! (Most photos will be clickable Thumb-nails of larger images)
March 7, 2008 - 2am:
All the planning and packing of late Feb., and early March, came down to this:
After getting 2 hrs. sleep, filling Nikita's food and water bowls, and hugging him good-bye...I walked out the door.
30 minutes, and a 1mile walk later, I walked to where I caught my 1st of 2 busses for the morning.
It was a dark, and cool, night, but not too cool at 49 degrees, traffic was light, and I was the only person around on foot in that small corner of Santa Ana, CA..
Oh, and guess what? I forgot to shave!! ;-D
On the bus a young Hispanic couple, on their way home from a night on the town, looked at me kind of funny, and the woman asked me if I was on a road trip.
I said no, and she, only half-joking, said she thought I was on the run. ;-D
My reply to that observation? "I am! From work!"
In spite of all we hear America is a great place, with wonderful people, and this journey will be my chronicle of my experiences in select parts of this Beacon of Democracy.
I brought along Davis's book, The Human Story: Our History, From the Stoneage to Today, to keep me company on my journey.
On this first bus, across from me, was a homeless black man, needle scars on his hands, sound asleep. All that he owns in the world are in a large beat up suitcase, and 2 dirty duffle bags.
The four all night bus lines in Orange County are famous for their use by the occasional homeless person as temporary, safe, places to sleep for acouple of hours each night.
The bus takes less than an hour to reach Long Beach, and I cross the street to wait for my bus to LAX.
The bus stops, on the corners of 1st and Long Beach Blvd., have really nice benches so a person can wait 30 minutes for his or her bus in comfort...Except that most of the time, at night anyway, the homeless sleep on them.
This morning was no different, except that they were all awake, and their various belongings took up space on the benches.
6 Black men, of various ages, and one, very drunk, young white guy with a bottle in his hand, were standing around talking, and all seemed to know each other by name.
The white guy was saying, "I don't know about you guys, but I think this Barack guy actually has a chance."
Quick, someone call CNN! This guy may know something the rest of us should know! ;-D
It turns out that there was an earlier bus going my way so I left Good Morning, Long Beach behind.
Since the light on the bus was too low to read by I observed the passing scene outside the window.
As the world began to awaken, and head to work, a few Blacks, and Hispanics, get on and off the bus as it travels through Lomita, Torrance, Redondo Beach, Hermosa Beach, and LA,as it headed to the airport transit center.
Passing through mostly business districts, and traveling a good portion of Pacific Coast Highway, the ride takes 80 minutes.
It's 5am, and I get on the free shuttle to the Terminal, and by this time you, dear reader are no doubt wondering what in the hell I'm doing there 6 hours before my flight, right?
The last time I was on a plane was the wekend before Sept. 11, 2001, and so, with all the new rules I figured I wasn't going to let a late bus keep me from getting to the airport the recommended 2 to 3 hours ahead of time. ;-D
On the shutle I chatted with a family on its way to Alabama, and one young member seemed to know a little about the White House tour so that was cool.
At 530am in the morning I had the Men's Room, in the International Terminal Baggage Claim Area, all to myself!! ;-D
While there are Boarding Pass Kiosks and self check-in stations, I opted for the familiar, and and went to full service with a smile.
Well, ok, they smile most of the time, I suppose, but my attendant didn't, thoughshe did seem in a good mood.
It was at least an hour too early to leave my bag so the lady said to return.
My check-in luggage was 20 lbs., well under the 50 lb. limit so I didn't have to shell out $50.
I settled down to read my book for a while, and also obseve the passing scene.
By 6am it's daylight and the check-in areas are just beginning to get busy.
Young people, older people, families, of all nationalities, pass by, carrying luggage o all shapes and sizes, heading who knows where.
At 7am I got my baggage checked in, and went through security.
It was an interesting experience.
When i left my luggage I had to wait while it was scanned since it was locked, and might might need to be opened.
It didn't, and so it was on to Step 2: Going through the scanner to reach the boarding areas.
Out of my pocket came my pens, 2 camera batteries, and a change purse, and these, plus my keys, wallet, book, camera bag, notepad, shoes, pants, shirt, all this went into a bucket which, along with my carry-on luggage, went through the scanner.
Continue reading "A Mad Macedonian Loose in VA. and DC: The Adventure Begins" »
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Wandering around Poe War, the Writer's Resource website, I came across an amusing article, by John Hewitt, from a year ago:
Has anyone ever told you that you couldn’t write your way out of a wet paper sack?
It really isn’t that difficult.
The important thing remember that this is not a job for a computer. You are much better off using a pen or a pencil.
You should press down very hard when you write. That will be helpful because, as you remember, the paper sack is wet.
You can use that moisture to your advantage. Wet paper sacks tear more easily than dry paper sacks. Keep that in mind at all times.
The key to writing your way out of the wet paper sack is to write in such a way that the wet paper begins to tear.
Once you’ve torn a hole in the wet paper sack, you’re halfway out of it.
Okaaayyy... ;-D
I know, I know, who has paper sacks around the house, unless they shop exclusively at Trader Joe's, right? ;-D
Read the whole thing, here:
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As a warm-up to my Cataract Surgery, in February 2006, I let a doctor probe my Ass the month before. ;-D
Life here at The Branch Maceyugoserbulgarigreekadonian Compound has never been boring. ;-D
Like the surgery I believe that sharing my experiece with readers is important, and valuable, and so let's get the show on the road.
This was my first Colonoscopy, and I was intent on having as much fun with the experience as I could.
In December 2005...
I wondered, to some friends:
LiveBlogging a Colonoscopy....Is it possible, and has anyone done it?
You'll *love* the colonoscopy. I had one last year.
You get to take a nice nappy while they take a peek.
Not to worry!
I hope you're joking about butt blogging.
Pulleeze be joking.
Well, it turns out someone beat me to it. ;-DSeveral someones!Take your time, and read them in order, because the BEST truely does come in the END. ;-DJames Wolcott, a writer for Vanity Fair, and a Blogger, recently had one and wrote about it.
The Demerol drip is divine...
... worth the price of admission. As the room began to float and time melted around the edges, I regretted even more keenly never having visited an opium den. Me and the hookah would have made a helluva team. But there is no point in mourning what might have been...
It’s sort of like jury duty for your butt.
His description of the Run ( heh, heh )- up to the big event had me laughing, and making plans for what reading material I'll need to have on hand. ;-D
Too much information is never enough.
I love Web Searches! You can turn up the darndest things!
Like an entire Blog devoted to Colonoscopies!
There are only 4 entries, from last Spring, butt the info is still of interest:
Phil Shapiro, of I Love Colonoscopies, has a post about preperation, and, having endured 15 of these procedures, he has a motto:
"I _love_ colonoscopies. They're one of my hobbies!"
And now for a little humor:
Mike Durrett, of the Humor Boy Blog, has 2 posts:
The 1st is about his Colonoscopy experience: Mikey's Colonoscopy Corner.
The 2nd is "The Top 12 Joys during a Colonoscopy Examination":
12. The pre-show cleansing -- known at my house as "The Bottomless Spit."
11. There's nothing to hit the fan.
10. Anal probe makes you eligible for guest appearance on "South Park."
9. Crack navigation provides little chance of colliding with iceberg.
8. Zany rectal air hose makes you feel you can fly over Macy's parade.
7. Any loose change found is yours!
6. Sedatives hallucination transforms doctor into Jim Henson and you're a Muppet.
The Top 5 are here.
Information on Colonoscopy that I found: Colonoscopy.com
Be there or be square!
Order tickets, now!
Early purchasers guarateed to recieve Special Autographed Photo of the Grand Entrance!
Hee, hee, I'd better quit while I'm Behind! ;-D
LIVE BLOGGING THE DAY BEFORE A COLONOSCOPY
In the beginning God said... "Let him down Dulcolax, and drink NULYTELY!
I'm having a Colonoscopy, butt that's OK.
I'm drinking a noxious cherry brew, and
Sitting on the Throne all the live long day!
TP to the right of me!
TP to the left of me!
My Butt torn assunder!
My Throat has tasted the glory
of the wonderous Nulytely,
It is evacuating the colon where
my last solid meal is stored!
Sit right back and you will read a tale,
A tale of a lot of Dumps...
Okay, okay, I'll stop!
I was running out of ideas, anyway. ;-D
As friend Jaspar reminded me...
By tomorrow night, this will all be ... behind ... me. ;-D
And so, the adventure began...
It was 930 am, and I'd just had breakfast...
If you could call it that! ;-D
I am under strict instructions:
Only a Clear Liquid Diet from wake-up to Midnight, then NOTHING until after the fun, and frolick, of Thursday ( Boy, have I got plans for THAT Happy Evening! )
So it's CLEAR Chicken Broth, and Diet Coke for the duration. ;-D
Starting at 10am, after taking 4 Dulcolax Tabs, I will be drinking a glass of Nulytely, every 15-30 minutes for 2-4 hours, until the whole gallon jug is gone ( but not forgotten! ).
I weigh 191 lbs. at the moment, but wonder how that will change over the course of the day.
While I'll have FOX NEWS on the TV, of necessity, I'll be needing something to read all day.
My choice?
The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History by Thomas E. Woods, Jr.
Why?
Well , the Author obviously thinks the Left is full of Shit.
And the Left thinks HE'S full of Shit for writing this book.
And... I'M full of Shit, so...
I'm gonna spend the day symbolically DUMPING on BOTH their houses! ;-D
As you can see...I was on a roll. ;-D
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