Thursday, July 16, 2015

“Significant resources” . . but we’re not giving more information. Thus speaks the FBI. Four marines dead, one gunman dead, so said the Governor..

Okay. At least they called it domestic terror investigation.

Had just returned from Independence chasing a new mouse. My Microsoft mouse died. I was going to do a little soldering on the MS, but there wasn’t an easy way into it.

(Actually, I want to see the inside the darned thing, whether I can make it whole again or no. I’ve been curious about the inside those things for some time. )’’

Where was I – Oh. Yeah. When I returned the TV (which I’d left on) was yelling at me there’d been a shooting in Tenn. An arm full of packages, a missing wallet, a joyous dog and the TV yelling news?

Not to mention the temp just went north of ninety-six again today. This is the time of year the Bermuda grass does its best work. Stuff needs lopping every three or four days. The calves like it however. The fescue  tends to dislike warm weather and dry’s up. The calves the begin eating the Bermuda. That’ll carry them through October.

Pity the poor yuk with a front lawn of Bermuda, however. He’ll be mowing in the hot.

(Now, I counted these things) I went into a drug store for shaving cream. They had thirty six different brands (at least different brand names). I haven’t purchased shaving products in twenty five years.

You want to guess how confused I was? Go ahead, take a guess. I was so confused that I didn’t find the hair products. Didn’t.

And was afraid to look for deodorant Oh. And don’t get me started on the various razors and stuff.

Jesus, Lord.


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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