First thing, Happy Birthday, Sweet Judy Blue Eyes. You were the best that ever was and I was too young to see it. We are still in that uncharacteristic cold spell, so no nudie pictures from the beach for you. You get the exciting happenings around the house. That includes the repair of what I thought was a loose fan belt on the Taurus. The personality of that car is simple. It eats tires and has been worked on so often over the years, you watch for loose bolts. That was the problem, the entire generator assemble was loose because the mounting bracket wasn’t tight.
See Millie-Belle on the patio? Wallace is getting ready to fly back and he’s got that pet carrier for Millie-Belle. I didn’t know they made them in extra super large. I was going to be a smart aleck and offer Wallace the wheelbarrow but then I thought better of it. The airline might object. So you’ll know, the recipe for wieners and beans he got from his lady are slated for the cookbook. That publication is for favorite dishes, not gourmet meals.Which may also mean Jackie’s peanut butter and mayonnaise is a candidate. I’ve tried a few variations on my own Lumberjack Hash Browns with success. Chopped chicken, carrots type of thing. The secret ingredient remains a dusting of dill weed “for that garden-fresh flavor”. Just remember, it is a secret.
Sorry if these entries are shorter. The days are shorter, you see. And cooking takes time. I have a question for the ages. You know those aluminum frying pans? The question is, why, over time, does the handle get heavier than the pan? That is not so when the pan is new. Newton would reduce it to a formula with a correction factor for the part nobody will understand until Einstein arrives. And nobody will understand it afterward, either. (They will just write books on the topic that nobody on the Nobel committee dares to interpret.)
[Author's note 2016: I don't have any record of when I first read the memo, but the condition of frying pans loosing weight and tilting back on the handle is called "aluminemia". Har!]
I went to a coffee shop downtown. Where I used to live in such places when young, I’ve ceased reading (studying) in public and stay away. In this case, I was in the totally institutionalized Starbucks. Noting the New York Times sold for $5 per copy, I wonder when they’ll answer my business proposal. I am the one with the idea that will grab them 10% of a $19.1 billion dollar market, all for my quarter of a percent royalties. Everyone knows advertising revenues have taken a dive. I wrote directly the manager, a chap with a hyphenated surname. What’s the hold up over there?
Wallace was totally taken by the Xmas light display of the neighbor. I believe I have pictures of that from several years ago [before we lived in the area]. He’s French and really goes out, I’d guess 3,000 light bulbs. My camera won’t take night pictures but Wallace said he’d try tonight. Let me say something about that Xmas light thing. For some reason, big lights like that most exemplifies the married guy thing, at least to me.
When I was younger, I knew so many men who only had such things because they were living with a woman who took care of the basics. You know what I mean? These men still went out for the ostentation needed to attract women, but they could only afford it because they already had one. So you get the paradox of the guy hoping he’ll score with babes while his wife, who now looks like his mother, helps him put up the peacock feathers. This is probably not the case next door. I’m just saying it reminds of that scenario to a tee.
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