Friday, December 22, 2017


Ah, Gentle Readers, I guess you know what time it is.

That's right.

Just about time to begin your Christmas shopping.

Lessee . . . .

Whew, you contributors nearly wore me out this holiday season.

But that's fine, keep it up.

In the meantime, this is it - the big holiday weekend so let me wish you all the very merriest of Christmases, lots of goodies under the tree AND on the table.

Raise a glass and always remember to keep on laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(oh, you knew it didn't you.)

Thursday, December 21, 2017

Wednesday, December 20, 2017


Well, Gentle Readers, it doesn't seem like I've had much to say this week.

It's been kind of musical.

So, I figured as I inspected my brain pan today, why not continue.

And since it's getting close to Christmas I figured a song about the man of the season would be timely.

No, not Santa Claus, you heathens.

The other guy.

Here's an early John Prine to tell you about him.

Tuesday, December 19, 2017


I'm glad some of you Gentle Readers enjoyed the story of Eden Brent and Abie Boogaloo Ames yesterday.

Boogaloo is not with us anymore but Ms. Brent is and she played a tribute to him at the Montreal Jazz Festival back in 2009.

Turn up your audio and then stand back!

Oh, and BTW, this gets a special send-out to Baseball Steve who I know loves this song.

Monday, December 18, 2017


I ran across this bit of "harmony" today and thought I'd share it with you.


Sunday, December 17, 2017


Judy and I were watching "The Sound of Music" on television tonight and she reminded me that she watched it with my father in our home in Phoenix at a time I was covering (as a news person) the Republican National Convention in Detroit.

That was in 1980.

A night or two later my father died in his sleep.

So it's a bittersweet memory for her.

And then, yesterday afternoon, we got a phone call telling us that an old friend from our Mexico days had died.

She was Betty Houser and never a better friend had I than she.

This is the only picture I could find though I know I have others somewhere.

It was taken at a chili festival in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mexico back in the 1980's.

She was a very close friend of my good friend, Walter Nixon, from those days.

Betty moved around a lot.

She came to Prescott and then to Chino Valley for awhile after we all came back from Mexico.

She helped us put our Prescott Valley bookstore together, finishing boards for the many bookshelves back in the 1990's.

Betty was what I called a Yellow Dog Democrat, meaning she'd vote for a Democrat even if they had to run a yellow dog on the ticket.

In the last twenty years or so she lived in Olympia, Washington.

We'd talk on the telephone once or twice a year, usually about politics.

Her daughter told me yesterday that she was delighted by the recent Democratic win in Alabama.

She told her daughter she'd had a wonderful life but she was tired and ready to move on.

She died in her sleep, only weeks from her 93rd birthday.

I'll miss her.

Friday, December 15, 2017


I've discovered I'm psychic.

I know what you're thinking.

"Oh I wonder what he'll come up with this week."

Am I right?

Sure I am.

Well, here it goes then, with the flavor of the current scene in the world.

Speaking of flavor . . .

If you're puzzled by that last one then just check out the next one.

Last week's statue comics resulted in a couple more coming over the transom.

(What's a transom?  Oh, Google it.)

Here's a bonus kitty pic for the week as you set out your Christmas decorations.

All right, you can go on with what you were doing now.

I know what it was . . I'm psychic you know.

You were planning an exuberant weekend full of sweetness as you nosh on the holiday goodies you had baked to give away as gifts

Just remember . . . always keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

COSTA . . . WHERE???

The BRD and her Beau Jack, AKA The Travelin' Man, have been at it yet again, Gentle Readers.

They're back at home now but only after a mega-hour return from their latest vacation.

No, it's not Shangri La, it only looks that way.

This journey was to the jungle-ly region of Costa Rica.

I can't even tell you where it was, except that it was in the mountains and it was green, very green.

They do look like they belong there, don't they?

As do these natives.

I'm not sure what was going on in that last picture but I fear for the one that (didn't) follow it.

The natural surroundings were breath-taking.

But you know Americans.

They have to leave their mark on the planet.

That's Jack's son on the left.

A large group ford a river, sort of.

And then, the BRD prepares to ease into a mud-bog.

The Beau Jack, however, is not one to "ease" his way through life.

Or mud bogs.

Which may explain this next picture.

Oh, yes, that's him . . . in the rinse cycle.

There were quieter times, or at least dining times.

(You knew I'd actually get around to food, didn't you?)

Jeremy, Marina, Gayle (and a CAT) at a restaurant that the BRD said served the absolute best barbecue she'd ever had . . . and she spent a lot of years eating it in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

I'm not sure what this was but it's pretty, isn't it?

And, speaking of that . . .

Looks like it was a great vacation!

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Sunday, December 10, 2017


Some of you have commented how the blue color of our bird bath/drinking pond matches nearly perfectly the color of the blue jays that visit it.

Some others of you may wondered about my constant photographing and displaying their visits to said bath/pond.

It goes back.

Way, way, way back to the days of my youth in a small town in northwestern North Dakota where I was born and raised.

The town's name was Stanley and the nickname of the school's sports teams was . . . well, I bet you guessed it, didn't you?

I never was on any of the teams but, as I think I've said here before, I was the tallest student manager in the state.

And I still remember the "fight song".

Stanley Blue Jays
Hats off to thee
Your name, your fame
spreading from sea to sea.
Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah,
Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah,
H'ray for the white and blue!

So forgive this alumnus of 1958 for his favoring the blue jays in his yard.

It runs deep.