Sunday, July 20, 2014

Hi.  Been a week. Well, almost.

I’d come close to running away and joining a fishing boat, or something. The vacation settled my mind. Now I think about running away to the desert.

But, I’m home again. Rested. Been to the grocers. I made a point of buying some horseradish for the baloney sandwiches. I have home grown tomatos now, and some home grown lettuce. So I bought the horseradish. Creamy horseradish.

Having had a sandwich with  the horseradish I’m not sure my eagerness was rewarded. In fact, it positively was not rewarded with a culinary treat. More like . . .

Anyhow. I think, remembering my friend that shineeed a dim light on my BBQ suace, I think I’ll save a bottle of this horseradish for the next time he comes over for a free meal and disses my sauce by hauliing out his own bottle of sauce. I think I will.

Although I must admit my sinus are clear and I’m breathing easily.

Umm. Dog refused a hunk of roast beef with the horseradish on it. That should have been my  first clue.

Bro tried, while I was up his way, to get me to stay for the Chi-land Nascar race today. No way, hay. If I want to get shot at I’ll go somewhere exciting, like the Middle East.

Any how My ex-renter’s wife says she’s lost forty –three pounds and is aiming at two hundred more. Her goal is to lose eighty pounds sthis year.

We stopped at the Sonic on the way home and had one of those Carmel Ice Creams for a snack.

I didn’t. They did. Renter and Wife. He has back troubles.

Whish reminds me. The tracctor parts still aren’t in. I’ll look silly as hell out in waist high grass spraying thistles sitting on a dixon.

Some one will be shooting at the odd looking coyote, for sure._


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

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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