Pitchers

My grandfather was not a large man. Nor was he particularly imposing. But he was strong. Strong of mind. Strong of speech. And especially, strong of character. Last time I saw him alive he was riding my sister's bicycle up and down our driveway in Florida, all wobbly and swervy and with the biggest grin you ever saw plastered on his face.

I would not veiw him at the funeral when he died. I was young, but I knew I always wanted to remember Grand Daddy riding the bike when I thought of him, not laid out to say goodbye.

Same sentiments hold true for Mr. John R. Cash, may he rest in peace.

Sailors, even retired ones, or maybe especially retired ones, love nautical stuff. It takes us back. Back to painted sunsets. Stolen kisses. Stupid t-shirts. I am, of course, no exception. I just kinda liked this one. Maybe it's how I feel a little bit right now.

I think I have to agree with this sentiment completely. And, just so you know, it spoke to me in part because of the next picture after it. I was looking and thinking, "That woman's head is square. And yet, I... can't... look... away."

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in this photo. I'd know who was cool, what music was hip, and who Helen was holding hands with last night when she was supposed to be calling Paul on the phone to discuss homework. Actually, Helen really needs to get her act together, or she's gonna get a reputation. Anyway, a fly, the wall, etc. That'd be keen.

When it comes to things that just make sense, this life's plan is at the top of the list. Obviously it has been given a lot of thought, and frankly, if it has a flaw, unless it is in the actual execution of the plan, I can't see it. I think I may adopt it as my own as I have been a little negligent in forming a workable life's plan of my own, unless "drift aimlessly" is considered a plan. Somebody get Hershey, PA on the phone for me, will ya?

Say it with me, "Ummmmm, Uma."

"Pigmeat Markham". Where have I heard that name before? Oh yeah, NOWHERE! What was the dude thinking?

This reminds me of self-defense training in the Navy. Don't attack us with ships or planes or missiles or guns. Ours are better than yours. No, really, they are. But should you attack us in our yard with a slingshot, whack us in the head with a stick as we exercise the dog (canine, not wife. And before you give me grief over that, sit outside the Navy Exchange for an hour and draw your own conclusions. We must spend wa-a-ay too much time at sea for our own good.), or just walk over and bitch-slap us you will bewilder us. We'll do one of two things: Just stare at you blankly or cry and run away. I am adept at either strategy because I rose pretty high in the ranks.

Heh, heh, heh. This is just cool.

Some say ol' Sponge Bob is gay. I don't think so, although I do believe if you got him drunk he'd follow you home.


"......Hey! When did you walk in? We... um.... I... OK, here's the deal. Wilting Lily here had something in his eye and I was just helping him try to get it out. Ha ha, that's it. Probably looks otherwise, I'm sure. But it's not. Nope. Sure ain't."

OK. That's it. Show's over folks. Go back to your yardwork or whatever. Bathe the kids. I'm really not sure what all it is you guys do. But go do it. I have shelves to buy. And mount. And then mount again... correctly.

Ow. Quit it. Ow. Quit it. Ow. Quit it. , out

Ramblin' Ed