Today, I had a blueberry, grown here on the property. Last month, I had a strawberry. Note the pointed use of the singular. We’re starting a limited production, and I expect the jam to be spectacular, albeit in limited quantity.
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The sun will set, soon. I just finished my cup of warm black coffee, prepared and then left to cool for a bit too long. No burn danger. No, I don’t usually have a caffeine pick-me-up, this late in the evening. The pending question is whether I’ll be awake long past my normal bedtime.
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Don’t take life too seriously. Another call, from elsewhere, offering to reduce my card balance to zero. I can’t pass up an offer like that, so I answered some simple questions. The usual ones: how much debt and which card.
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Right now, what I would really like to have is a “Magic 8-Ball”. A purpose built model. One that would help with the most important question I have faced, so far today.
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Life has cycles. In my case, it can be summed up in library purges. Allow me to reminisce.
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To anyone who proclaims that one shouldn’t “sweat the small stuff”, I want to disagree. So will the premier of Ontario, who managed to swallow a bee, on camera. A couple of days ago; at last report he is still alive, although the fate of the bee remains unknown. Moving right along.
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Typical afternoon banter, in the quiet time before supper.
She: So, do you want to go for a walk?
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This story is not really mine to tell. I heard it from someone who heard it from someone, and the details are vague. In simple terms, it involves a key.
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Just keeping track. We were out to a local restaurant for supper; proof that we do leave the security of the home from time to time. My meal was mediocre. A factor of not choosing carefully enough from the menu. As someone said, I should have opted for the seared scalloped rather than the mystery meat sandwich. My failiure to communicate.
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Today’s soundscape inchludes a large truck, on a country road. The need to slow down with what must be a heavy load includes the assistance of the truck motor the brake. The distance is short; a matter of seconds, really. Just after that, the unique sound of a dumptruck tailgate, clanging like a bell, to signal the empty status of the bin. And then the truck rolls away. No need to go to my window; I have almost the whole story. I just want to learn the “who” and the “why”, to complete my mental image.
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