Monday, March 14, 2016

I made two mistakes this morning – besides getting up, of course.

I turned on the telly and they insist on talking politics; and I skipped breakfast before browsing the images of Bing. One of the first pictures I came across was”

Classic_Irish_food-567x400.png

It was Classic Irish Food with Irish Coffee.

I now drool on my key board and run food items through the onboard computer.

We spent yesterday cleaning the fence rows of small trees and stubble from last years cuttings. I still need to get the front wheels of the Dixon mower fixed. That’ll be a trip for this afternoon. New bearings.

Pastor has acquired a tiller so I’m relieved of that chore. He’s also fenced the community garden plot (which is what I’ve been tilling) for some reason. Probably to keep the kids from destroying the plants. A Democratic way of thinking, I think. Rather than tell the kids it isn’t correct, fence the sucker so the kids face obstacles to destructive behavior.

I don’t need to go there this morning.

The little white dogs have found new homes. It seems the folks have finally gotten a belly full of midnight barking and interrupted traffic. That does not, I suppose, do a darn thing for the villages five puppy mills.

I guess, as depressed as the are iis, any industry is necessary. I keep thinking, however, of the dog fighting culture that use to exist and the chicken fighting village  up the road, that finally got served notice of cease and desist.

Strange place this  village I choose to live in.

_______

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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