Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Housekeepers day.

She is settling into her age now and becoming a respectable Frau. Not to demean either Frau or respectability, you understand, but she is losing her “I”,  mine , and someone else’s attitude. She has even said “We”, us, and ours once or twice when speaking of her hubby.

It is a refreshing change. They’ve been together thirty years now.

We got to talking music and high school (way back when type of stuff) and she slipped in the remark that she almost got killed on the highway yesterday.

Seems a Semi came around a bend on her side the road. She got whoa’d up and stopped before barreling off into the barr ditch.  She said that the trucker rocked the SUV with the wind of his passing.

Glad that little other than fright happened.

She also said that she’d had trouble with the group folks in Sedan, where she works on Tuesdays, again. She was of a mind to beginning to carry her pistol in the vehicle.

Worlds changing.

I ran across an article concerning the Annual Turkey Trot in Wichita in todays paper. We’re scheduled to get a duzzy of a storm this week. Some of the forecasters are calling for freezing rain in our area.

We don’t really need icy anything. Anyway, the Turkey Trot writer started of this way:

The Ironman: Frozen turkeys

Wellington Daily News
– ‎1 hour ago‎

All week I was hearing from the weather whiners! Wichita’s Turkey Trot race was coming up and all anyone, at least anyone who runs it, could talk about was how cold it was going to be.

Lordy, folks. We’re Kansans. About all we complain about, really, is when a tornado rips up the pasture and the crops – and then we only complain if it doesn’t hit us.

We hate to miss a good fuss, you see.


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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