Boots and utes yesterday and probably today.
I got the majority of the acreage done yesterday but now comes the weed whacker part. We'll see what happens today. Maybe a little chain saw madness.
Last night a guy was walking his dog and he grinned at me. "Hey, tough guy," he said.
I grinned and said, "Hey there, Pard."
I met him a few weeks back and it was kind of funny. I saw him walk by and he made me smile.
The guy was huge, and was wearing some sort of Harley biker vest and had pretty close to sleeves as far as tattoos went, yet he was wearing baggy shorts and flip-flops and was walking the sissiest looking dog I have ever seen. The dog looked like it belonged on the lap of a 96 year-old lady yet it was being walked by a huge biker type that I would have expected to be seen walking a humongous primoral beast of some sort.
When he was walking by the first time I saw him first and decided to have a little fun with him. I snagged my pink sweatshirt and donned it.
As he passed, I looked at him and smiled.
"We're kindred souls," I said. "In fact, you kind of remind me of...ME." He looked perplexed but was not unfriendly.
"How's that?" he asked.
"We're both tough guys. You seem to have adopted the biker lifestyle and your dog tells me you're a tough guy. I'm a merchant seaman and by definition as a Popeye/Barnacle Bill Old School sailor I'm a tough guy."
"I grow these flowers and sometimes wear this pink sweat shirt. When you are a tough guy you do what the hell you want. You can walk any kind of dog you want." I continued. "Here, have a beer." I handed him one.
"Thanks, Man," he said. He laughed. "I guess you CAN do what you want when you're a tough guy."
We chatted a bit and he moseyed off.
It was fun seeing him walk his little dog tonight.
In Philly a week ago or so ago I had to do a quick bit of shopping and at the meat counter there was a PETA activist putting stickers on the meat. I ignored her and picked up a package. I said nothing.
"That meat's diseased, you know." she said.
"Worse. It's dead," I replied, dryly.
She didn't know when to quit. She just had to say something.
"You're an ugly, horrible person,"she said.
"You're stupid. But if I get a makeover I will become a kindly handsome prince. But you can't fix stupid," I shot back.
What could she say?
It's stuff like that that makes me hate Philly.
I got busted.
Yesterday morning when I went to snag a couple items one of the employees asked me when I was going to put 'for rectal use only' stickers on the cucumbers again.
I didn't know it but he saw me when I did it quite a while ago but said nothing and enjoyed watching the people get wierded out. I guess working in a supermarket needs a little help every so often.
I might do it again for him, though. He's a pretty good guy.
One of the things that is a pain to deal with while growing my winter beard is that I have to shave my neck daily until my beard is almost fully in. If I don't I look like a bum, yet if I shave the neck it simply tells the world I am growing a beard and that's a whole different picture.
I made my first Carribean QSO last night on my little 30 watt manpack rig. Puerto Rico.
It is starting to get dark early and I think some night I am going sneak out and run an antenna up a neighbor's tree and see if I can get a few QSOs. I guess you can figure out which neighbor. The one that reported I was jamming her TV BEFORE I bought my rig.
There are just some things a man has to do.
I always like the way some people think.
Back when I was driving a cab while I was too injured to fish years ago I had a woman and her son get in to go home after shopping.
While we were tooling along the mother looked at her son and told him that if he didn't do well in school he'd wind up driving a cab like me.
The kid ignored his mother. "Don't ignore me," said the mother.
The kid looked up at his mom and in an 'Oh, puhleeze, mother' tone of voice said "At least he has a driver's license because he doesn't drink and drive."
my other blog is: http://officerpiccolo.blogspot.com/ http://piccolosbutler.blogspot.com/