Running down the days of Summer, and I notice the vacation, trips and visitations are ending. Folks are writing about what we did rather than what we’re doing. I was browsing and happened across this:
and a short while later found this:
Which may or may not mean something – like, it was simply time for me to discover the items. The link is to the site where the picture was taken. As you will with them.
The cops visited the near neighbor. Most of the very tall weed weeds are gone.
A small tale from the episode.
The afternoon of the day before the visit – the very day, in fact the cops were notified of the strange weeds growing in the yard, a motorcycle cruised into the village and quietly drifted the near neighbors haunts, and the near neighbor went missing for the day and that night. He returned very late the next day and the cops were waiting for him. The funny weed disappeared that night.
The motorcycle, however, was noted by the populous, and the remark was made that the Sheriff and his deputies ride as a gang and that cycle sure looked like the one belonging to . . ..
The near neighbor hasn’t a phone.
Hate the third week of the month for poker. The Doom Switch, you know. Or it could be I simply haven’t eaten enough beans.
I don’t know. But it works for me, even on-line. Eat beans and win. I know it will work live – which, I think, is why it is difficult to obtain a Chili-Burger at a Casino.
I’d speculate as to why that is, but don’t feel like doing the research.
I had one of those harmless fun things yesterday. Yesterday was grocery shopping, which I’d skipped this month until yesterday. As I shop only once a month I tend to notice the price increases, as each month I see the bill – and it never goes down.
That proclivity also has consequences in the bulk department. Well, not nearly as much as it used to, but they’ve started putting fewer items in more bags to ease the pain somewhat I think. Anyway, every check out time, the cashier calls the poor sods from the shelves inside the air conditioned building to sack my groceries and carry them out to the truck in the heat.
Yesterday, I got a forty something management type and I waited until he’d gotten everything sacked, had him help put all the bags on fingers and arms. He said he’d be glad to help, which was fine, but I sneaked in a credit card moment – I told him No, no need, guys his age didn’t do well in the heat, like it was outside.
The moment, of course, was the look on his face, alternating between relief he didn’t have to go out side and not quite knowing if he was being put on, and if the put on was serious or suppose to be funny.
I’m reduced to bad humor.
From the reaches,