LONG-TIME FRIENDS

 I received a photo in my email yesterday.

It was taken in Paso Robles, California, at a winery introducing a new "bubbly", as my correspondent noted.

The handsome couple enjoying a taste of the new bottling are friends of some 52 years.

I first met them (as newlyweds) in 1969 in Indianapolis when Tom joined me in the newsroom at WIBC Radio.

Lana, at the time, was teaching school.

Now, Tom is the proprietor of the blog Light Breezes and Lana is an accomplished artist, master gardener and ace bread baker from their retirement home on the coast of California.

Though Tom and Lana remained in Indy until retirement beckoned them while Judy and I moved far away to Arizona and multiple other ports over the years, our two couples have managed to maintain our friendship.

It bothers me a bit to say we're "old" friends (though I suppose we all are now) so I'll stick with the words I used to title this post, "long-time friends."

As we say, Salud!  And as Tom says, Slainte!

INQUIRY

 

"Where's Matty?"

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Joy, joy, joy is on the land for it is Friday!

Well that may be putting it a bit too generously.

But it is my favorite day of the week.

For my working friends (as if I still have any) it is the end of another passage of trial and tribulation.

For me it means Friday Night Pizza.

And of course for the many millions who come to this blog for solace and frivolity it's The Friday Funnies.

There you go, Gentle Readers, your day of fun and frolic is well underway.

Now the rest is up to you.

Have yourselves a wonderful weekend and remember the advice from the old Catalyst:  always keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(aw, I'd never do that!)

AGING

 A cousin of mine is marking her 79th birthday today in faraway Montana.

In her defense, I might note that she is just about two and a half years younger than I am.

I know, I know.

Because of my sprightly manner on this silly blog, you thought I was much, much younger, didn't you?

Hello?

Is anyone there?

You are?

And you didn't?

All of this prattle is an introduction to telling you that I sent my *young* cousin a happy birthday email today and since we haven't seen each other in quite awhile I snapped a selfie and sent it along.

As I told the recipient, I just thought you'd enjoy seeing how much damage the years have done to me and how much better you look than I do.

As proof of that, I'll show you Gentle Readers how I looked a mere 55 or so years ago when I was a young and aspiring television anchorman.

In seersucker, no less.

Apparently half a century years of dominant bosses and living with SWMBO at least pinned those ears back.

And no, I was not spawned by hobbits.

GOURD HARVEST

 Our gourd plant was stripped of most of its leaves the other night by an unexpected hail storm.

That, accompanied by a couple of nights of frost, convinced La Senora de las Calabazas (aka the Lady of the Gourds) to cut the gourds from the vine and bring them into the house for drying purposes.

So here they are.

If you happen to be a gourd-ophile you will observe that the fruit of this particular vine are what is known as Birdhouse Gourds.

Supposedly once they have dried out, holes can be drilled in them and they can be hung from a branch to entice our tiny avian friends to inhabit them.

I think these, however, will just be turned into some other kind of craft project.

I should note that in my eagerness to photograph the objects, I had propped a large one up and it promptly rolled off the counter, hit the floor and it's head broke off.

Once the air between SWMBO and myself becomes less icy I shall suggest some Gorilla Glue artfully applied to cover my faux pas.

In the meantime, the injured party (third from right) shall keep it's back turned to the lights of show business.

AUTUMN COOKING

 My wife's daughter, the legendary BRD, has often proven a thesis of mine, that skills are inherited.

The artistic gene has come down through the generations.

And there's strong indications that the craft of cookery is also evident in the blood line.

This recipe may go back to her grandfather and probably beyond as he migrated to Indiana from his ancestral Virginia.

And you know what they say about the South.

Good cookin'.

So it came as no surprise when the BRD sent over a photo yesterday of her latest kitchen creation.

Spoon Corn Pudding

On this chill morning when the temperature is hovering in the 30's, "it looks good enough to eat right now!"

And as you can see, the chef has dipped a spoon into one corner to make sure it's as luscious as it looks.

But wait!

Just after I posted the above I got another email from Her Nibs, which said: "Since the oven was hot I threw this together"!

(Catalyst is moaning, "awwww, man".)

THE P WORD

 Continuing our theme of music . . . (sorta) . . .