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Echoes from the club meeting of the loafers
There are no leaves on your lawn.
I bought a leaf blower.
But your roof has leaves on it a foot deep.
They go there to hide from me.
Driving through Bruce’s drive
I have a wonderful neighbor named Bruce. Whenever I pass his driveway, thoughts occur to me. I had a flat tire in the church. No car was involved. A flat tire is a slang term for the result of someone stepping on my heel and causing my shoe to come off. It happened during a rush to eat at a potluck. I love potlucks – people and good food. This is euphoria with beans. At a table weighed down like an aircraft carrier, I said mercy. Bless the food and the hands that prepared it. I wish everyone the best and I wish Rice Krispie’s bars for me. “Did you get enough to eat?” asked a hostess. This is church lady talk for, “You have enough to eat.”
School anesthesia
Red Schoendienst was a great second baseman for the Cardinals, Braves, and Giants. In elementary school I wrote Schöndienst correctly (once). It wasn’t during a spelling bee. My teacher wasn’t impressed.
Whistle past the cemetery
I whistled past a cemetery as I was walking through a small town. It was an echo from the past. Was it a graveyard or a graveyard? Cemeteries and graveyards are places where we bury our dead. There were historical differences between cemeteries and cemeteries, the main difference being that cemeteries were traditionally run by a church and were located in the churchyard or on the grounds of a church. Cemeteries were generally not assigned to a church, but were managed by a board of directors and were separate from each church. Today the distinction between cemeteries and cemeteries no longer exists as it has been obliterated by common usage. I whistled past a cemetery. Until the 19th century, cemeteries were often laid out on the outskirts. Some people believed that the spirits of the dead came out at dusk to chase anyone who passed by. To avoid these ghostly encounters, travelers made loud noises like whistling as they passed the cemetery. Whistling past a cemetery is the title of a book and a song and means to be carefree or optimistic in a situation that does not warrant it. Hide the concern behind a calm demeanor. I whistled out of habit. When I was a boy, I whistled past many cemeteries. This time I practiced for Halloween.
My stomach growls in fond memories
Years ago the wonderful Village Inn called a meal Al Batt Platter. It should have been bologna with mustard on graham crackers, but it wasn’t. Unfortunately this lovely restaurant closed a few years ago after the owner retired. What a pity.
I have learned
If I can’t fix something with duct tape, I am not using enough duct tape.
Some days life is an accordion and I wear boxing gloves.
The man who blows his horn the loudest is in the thick of the fog.
If you say to most people, “One cent for your thoughts,” they are giving you two cents worth.
I don’t know what “normal” means.
When I see Ben Cartwright on an old “Bonanza” TV show, I sympathize with Lorne.
In local news
Bait Shop shows its real crawlers.
Listen to the opera while you get your hair cut at the Barbershopera.
The $ 1.50 store opens to those who like the nicer things.
Soap thieves make a clean escape.
Doctors scratch their heads when head lice break out.
Crematorium employee appointed senior citizen of Uri.
The Disa Pier on St. Olaf Lake is missing.
Hay fever tournament is nearing its sneezing final.
Public toilet suggested. “Build it and they will go,” said one proponent.
Nature notes
Fall colors popped and fell. In contrast to Maxwell House Coffee, whose slogan is “Good to the last drop”, a leaf is good after the last drop. The leaves are nice on the ground unless you hate raking them.
I saw a muskrat killed in traffic. The muskrat is commonly known as Ondatra zibethicus, and rightly so. Captain & Tennille sang “Biamratte, muskrat. Candlelight. Make the city. And do it right. It’s pretty pleasant in the evening. Muskrat Suzie, Muskrat Sam. Do the jitterbug in a muskrat land. And they wobble, Sam is so thin. “I have nothing to add to that.
My feeders were so busy that I expected to hear “Yackety Sax,” the song that was played during the chases on “The Benny Hill Show”. White-throated sparrows scratched the ground violently. I whistled on her behalf. Why not? As Monty Python’s Eric Idle sang, “If you’re chewing on the gristle of life, don’t grumble, give a pipe.”
Meeting adjourned
“Start each day with a positive thought and a grateful heart.” – Roy Bennett.
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