Whisps of fog on the upper parts of Mt. Sugarloaf this morning – peaceful and pretty. It makes me feel like a hobbit, and I’m suddenly motivated to find a good walking stick and use the word “precious” to describe things.
I just dropped my car off for the fine folks at Fisher’s Garage to administer their inspection magic, and I’ll find out the results later today. In the meantime, I wait and wonder how harshly my trusty Mazda will be judged.
Inspection blues: someone told me that his car failed a recent inspection because his front turn-signal lights “were not yellow enough”.
While walking back home from the garage, I saw a gentleman perched upon a lawn tractor, parked in his driveway. The tractor wasn’t running. He was just sitting there, observing quietly as the day passed by. The king on his throne, surveying his kingdom…
- jbc
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4 comments:
Seriously Jay. You're turning all sentimental and stuff. "whisps of fog..." the little anecdote about the old man and his tractor... go watch some football or partake in some other manly activity. Please.
Geez. Chided by the 17-year-old sister-in-law for being too whimsical and 'not manly enough' in my posting... Ouch.
As a wise man once said, "This aggression will not stand, man."
I would mock you, but I have no time to adequately do so. I must finish my poem about the lonely moon staring down on me. "Oh do not cry for me."
That reminds of a poem I once wrote about a rabbit named Bunn-Bunn . . .
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