MONDAY MISCELLANY

 This past weekend was not particularly a good one for a lot of folks, particularly in North Carolina where Dana Bug and Dr. M live just east of where the worst happened around Asheville.

They escaped a direct hit but their electricity went out on Friday and isn't expected to be restored until next Friday!

Dr. M took this picture of one of his routes to check on his father.

No getting through that but the resourceful driver finally found a way to get where he was going and his dad was okay.

Those Carolina folk are gritty.

Over here I got a message from Tommy Terrific on the Left Coast.

He shared a photo of one of their cats lazing in the sun.

That's Hemingway, so named because of his huge six-toed paws, like the cats Ernest Hemingway had as pets in Key West.

SWMBO loves an orange or yellow cat so she enjoyed seeing him again.

Meanwhile, the music world lost a giant over the weekend.

Kris Kristofferson died at his home on Maui, where his friend Willy Nelson also has a home.

I communicated with my longtime photographer friend, Timmer, up in Colorado, and he reminded me that he had once shot a story on the third re-make of the movie "A Star Is Born".

This one starred Kristofferson and Barbra Streisand and Timmer still has the mug the movie crew gave him on that day.

So nothing much to report but it seems now like it was a busy weekend.

Here in still-hot Arizona I keep bangin' away at my Spanish lessons from Duolingo.

How was YOUR weekend?

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Once again it is nearing the end of the week.

I hope yours has been eventful and possibly enervating.

That last word, "enervating" has been a term of endearment in my marriage ever since I jokingly used it incorrectly in a conversation with my wife.

Channeling Barbra Streisand, was I.

But in my attempt at dry humor SWMBO didn't get it and corrected me.

Time and time again.

And I, and then we, tee-heed and chuckled.

I don't know what any of that means but I had to say something to lead this off and tell you that this week The Friday Funnies have gone to the dogs.

You'll see what I mean.

So (woof-woof) dog lovers, there's your very special end of the week humor to launch you and all of us into the weekend.

Now I want you to have a wonderful time, full of fun and feasting.

But, please; no hot dogs, okay?

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . . ah, yes . . . )

SUMMMMMMMMMMM-ER-TIME!

Wacky But Wise Wally, who lives down in the Valley of the Sun, sent me this today.

As we are nearing October, this certainly gives one something to think about.

"F", THE FIRST LETTER IN "FOUR"

Today marks the 128th anniversary of the birth of the American writer F. Scott Fitzgerald.

His full name was Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald and he was born in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

He published four novels in his lifetime but his third, "The Great Gatsby", is considered his masterpiece.

I was born 44 years after Fitzgerald in Stanley, North Dakota and was named Franklin Bruce Taylor.

My father's first name was Franklin but the family didn't want me to be known as "Junior" so they always called me by my middle name.

I attended Jamestown College (now known as the University of Jamestown) for a few years though I left without a diploma.

While there I entertained thoughts of becoming a writer myself and most likely because of the Fitzgerald influence began signing my name F. Bruce Taylor.

Here's the proof, on a personalized college mug I bought at the time and which I still own and now use as a container for bookmarks.

I never became the writer to compare with Fitzgerald.

But I was struck this morning by something that would drive numerologists mad.

I was born on April 24th, 1940, or 4-24-40 and because of that have always considered "4" to be my lucky number.

Then this morning I realized that I was born 44 years after Fitzgerald and he died at the age of 44.

As I'm writing this it's 2024 and I am 84 years old.

And I have hung onto that college mug for 64 years.

Now is that enough 4's for you?

Lucky number or not, I'm still waiting for it to pay off.

So happy birthday, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Oh, and by the way, I named my late son "Scott".

HAPPY AUTUMN

It has finally arrived.

Today is the Autumnal Equinox.

As we say here in the United States of America, the first  day of Fall.

And though it looks like just about anywhere in my state or country, this picture was actually taken in Poland, by Lukasz Szmigiel, posted to Unsplash, a free photo sharing site.

So I guess we should be saying Szczęśliwej jesieni, instead of Happy Autumn.

Don't even think about asking me how to pronounce that!

At any rate, here in the Northern Hemisphere it's a time of pumpkin patches and cooler weather and a soft light filtered through the trees.

May your autumn, or springtime down below the Equator, be a fine one.

Mine began with a bit of sad news as I learned this morning of the death of Al McCoy, who broadcast the Phoenix Suns basketball games for 51 years.

Al was not only a legend in Phoenix but a Hall of Fame broadcaster known and respected throughout the National Basketball Association.

I wrote about knowing Al sometime back but I could not find the post.

But I remember one rather "wet" night when I found myself with Al and the late Ted Brown after a holiday party at Camelback Inn or Mountain Shadows resort in Greater Phoenix and we three found ourselves at another resort where there was a piano in the lobby.

Al sat down at the keyboard and that was when I learned that he was a talented jazz pianist.

And there was another time in Sedona when Judy and I were wandering through an art fair when I either spotted Al or heard his well-known voice and he greeted us like old friends.

Always the gentleman, he chatted with us as if he had nothing better to do even though I hadn't seen him in years.

He will be missed by many who listened to his broadcasts as well as we who knew and admired him.

Al McCoy was 91 years old.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Over the days, weeks, months and years I have oft been besieged with the same question: Can't those guys from Star Trek ever run out of punny things to say?

Well, apparently, dear readers, the answer is "no"!

And just to show you the truth of that, I have dipped into the Humor Bank today and asked them to show their stuff.

So here goes, and this is not by any means, all of it.

Enjoy Trekkies!

So you see?

There's no end to those wacky travelers.

Let's face it.

All that time spent traveling from one Armageddon to another can get boring.

So let them have their fun.

They'll do the same for you on this wonderful weekend.

Have a great one.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . . oh, see, even he/she has to have his/her say . . . )

KITCHEN DUTY

 I spent the day in the kitchen.

It was by my own volition.

Judy was going out for lunch with Gayle so I had the area to myself.

First on the list were two loaves of bread that are alleged to be a knockoff of the brown bread served at the Cheesecake Company restaurants.

Next up and still bubbling away for a couple more hours: Marcella Hazan's Bolognese Sauce.

I've only had a sip or two of the sauce and it tastes like it will go good with pasta tomorrow.

The bread looks good but we haven't sampled it yet.

I'll let you know.

====================

Later: We did try the bread and it's delicious.  It has molasses and honey among a lot of other ingredients and there's a slight sweetness to the finished product. Yummers.

I had three meatballs broiled in the oven for my evening repast.

Judy is not fond of meatballs so I had no competition for them.

The meat was left over from the pasta sauce.  Could have made a burger but wanted to try this.

First time I've tried broiling anything.  It worked swell.