Thursday, December 29, 2011

Two more days until – well, until the calendar switches year dates. Which reminds me, I have to go to the Insurance Office and pick up  a couple of calendars. The one in the kitchen from this year is still showing March.

I haven’t had cause to change the month yet. It wouldn’t really be March if it hadn’t been Housekeeper and I were having a discussion about something. Can’t really remember about what, my being screwed up about Easter or somewhat. I believe I won the discussion however.

Thank God for the internet and all that electronic stuff. Housekeeper bought a new cell phone soon after (which she has since replaced. She had to, she dropped it in the lake fishing. Said the phone worked, but the picture screen didn’t. Don’t ask, I didn’t, and I still don’t know how she fished the phone out of the water. She said she’d been in the canoe. So I assumed deep water.)

Anyhow, the Insurance Company calendar and then I’ll hang it over the one currently showing March. I have a whole stack of old calendars I’ll file away one of these days for someone to ooh and ahh over in years to come.

Why, I have calendars from ten, fifteen years ago from business that have burnt down. They’re the good one’s by the way. They have cowboy jokes on them, not like some of the Insurance one’s with the cutise barns and cottages – although I will admit the two calendars I have where the Insurance Lady surfed the web and had the calendars made are pretty nice and tasteful. Just I didn’t use those much either. Probably one of those ‘nothing’ happened years, those years.

Speaking of burning; the siren the other night, the day before Christmas? Yeah. It was a fire. The guys showed up and put it out – well, they thought they had. After they’d left the fire started up again and finished the private dwelling off.

The owners said they’d been in the house, sleeping, when the fire occurred. Most of the Christmas presents were in the car at the time, or at other places hiding them from the getters before Christmas.

Asking them if there was anything they needed yielded the negative answer. It seems they had another house in another village. They’d just been sleeping at the burned out one because they were doing some maintenance work and decided to stay to finish the work next day.

photoshare Clouds in Turnoil Wheat Ridge CO MikePic

FOX News is busy spreading the breast feeding tweet of Kasey Kahne. Poor sod. Even tweets aren’t private anymore – if ever.

Personally speaking, breast feeding isn’t all that bothersome. Actually, I’m retarded, I suppose. It’s kind of enjoyable, umm, at first. But I do admit that burping stuff is smelly work and un-pleasant watching the goo slide down the back of someone’s shoulder, or splat on the floor if the kid is laid across the knees.

Especially when I’m eating in Sub Way at Wally world or something.


From the reaches,

Ten Mile

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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