FRIDAY FUNNIES

I don't know why but some of these don't seem as funny as I thought they were.

To begin with, to those of you who are keeping track of the NCAA basketball tournament, I lost out on Warren Buffet's one billion dollar award when Dayton beat Ohio State in the first game played.

But that's all right because I hear SWMBO has a special treat for me.

Actually she's not my ex-wife but that one may have a place for me too.  It may go back to a conversation we had one day . . .

My New Year's resolution about exercise may help me out here.

Finally, to one of my friends (Quilted Dogs) who thinks because I posted pictures of dogs on two consecutive days this week that I may be becoming a "dog person", I must say I'm quite happy with cats.

Here's hoping you all have a furry, fun-filled weekend, folks!

THE MORNING AFTER

My friend, Phil, sent me this picture today and called it "another night on Whiskey Row."  (see Tuesday)

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A COWBOY TOWN

Prescott Valley, Arizona, where I live, has only been an incorporated town since 1978.  36 is a pretty young age for a town in the Southwest.  For example, there is the much more well known town of Prescott, just up the road.

It will be celebrating its sesquicentennial this year, or 150th birthday. Actually that's stretching it a bit since it wasn't incorporated as a town until 1883, which is a mere 131 years ago.  But who's quibbling.

Back in the day, Prescott was a rough and ready town and it's most famous street was Montezuma, named for a Mexican Indian chief who never came within thousands of miles of it.  It was filled then with dozens of drinking establishments, which gave the street its nickname.

The Earps and Doc Holliday and many others drank and gambled here then.  The gambling has moved to a couple of Native American casinos on the east edge of town now but there are still plenty of places on "the Row" to wet one's whistle.

But if you're not of a mind to sip a potable, there are plenty of other places along the street to relieve you of your money, all with the Old West theme.

I'm not sure about the name on this next store.

A couple of businesses have a stern guardian outside their front doors.

And if all of this sightseeing has given you a sweet tooth attack . . .

You can find the occasional buskers, probably more often on weekends.

Finally just to bring you back to the present day there was this poster for an upcoming event.

EVERYBODY'S IRISH TODAY

Dinner at my house yesterday (one day early).

Corned beef

Cabbage

Irish Stout

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

JAZZ FOR COWS

You've probably all heard about dairy farmers playing music in the barn during milking sessions with their cows.  Supposedly it relaxes the animals and makes the milking process easier.  But look at what happens when a group of jazz musicians begin playing near a pasture in Autrans, France.

NATIVE AMERICAN ARTISTRY ON SALE

The annual Navajo Rug and Indian Art Auction was held yesterday at the Smoki Museum in Prescott.  I stopped by briefly and took some pictures.

This is one of the rugs up for auction bidders.

Many others awaited their turn to go under the gavel.

Other items at the auction were Hopi Katsina (kachina) dolls, baskets, pottery and even a Native American cradle board for carrying an infant on her mother's back.

This beautiful "story pot" sold for $475 after some spirited bidding.

The auctioneer said many of the prices were far below true value so the successful bidders went away with smiles on their faces.

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW

This flowering plum tree brings a dash of color to the view from my den window.

FRIDAY FUNNIES

Enjoy your life, folks, and have a fantastic weekend!

THROWBACK THURSDAY

I hardly recognize myself but that's me at the 1968 Republican National Convention in Miami Beach.  The convention mainly ran at night so I spent my days on the beach, which may account for that blond hair.  I can no longer explain why I smoked back then.  Or more important, why I wore a Nehru jacket!

TAX TIME

So, whaddaya do when you go in to see your CPA and have your taxes done and you're thinking (dreading) you're really gonna get socked this year and instead he tells you you've got a big (for you, anyway) refund coming?

You want to kiss him, right?  But he has a full beard and a very messy office and a bit of a Monk-like personality (he pointed this out, I didn't) so you just sit there giggling like a lunatic.

Let's face it.  Good news is hard to handle.

So you begin to fret once you've left his office.  Did he figure it right? Can it be true?  Or will the friendly (?) old IRS come back on you months down the line and say, "Oops, sorry, there was a mistake.  YOU actually owe US a zillion dollars."

I suppose if that happens you could always claim insanity.  You could always blame it on your CPA.  Oops, he's left town, no forwarding address.

Nooooo.  We've only used a tax man for the past two years and he's done us well.  Last year we had to pay a bunch of money but that was okay because we earned a bunch.  This year the income went way down and, behold, so did the taxes.

So there's the secret.  Don't make a bunch of money.  Don't pay a bunch of money.

There's something to be said for poverty.

HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT

Pretty good camouflage.

JAPANESE (?) PLUM BRANCHES

SWMBO was out manicuring our plum tree this morning.  Not for beauty's sake.  It was just that the low branches interfered with her getting to an outdoor faucet to turn on water to the hose.  She only clipped about three and brought them into the house to put in a vase. I thought that it looked very Japanese and having a designer's sense I added one of my Buddha sculptures.

The randomness of the branches, the light green vase and the serene meditating Buddha all seem to flow together in my mind.

But wait!

Another angle and another facet of Japanese art.  A cat!

Perfection!  All right, artists, shoot me down.

MY COMPANION

It's curious how cats choose which of their humans they gravitate toward.  Muggles spends most of her time with SWMBO. 
Blackwell is MY cat.  He follows me around the house and any time I sit down he jumps up into my lap for a nap.  A lap-nap.  Like late yesterday afternoon.

Just about to doze off.  

"If only he'd stop flashing that camera in my face."

O.K.  I turned off the flash.  But then . . .

"Was that a bird just outside the window??"

It's always amazed me how they can come instantly alert out of a dead sleep when something gets their attention. Blackwell always looks directly at me as if for proof of what he'd seen or heard.  Or condemnation for disturbing his nap.

"Shame on you, human friend.  But I'll stay.  

Your lap is warm and comfortable."