THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 I'm cheating.

I'm actually putting this together on Thursday night.

But it's because I'm still revved up over the Phoenix Suns victory in the second game of the NBA Finals.

For those of you that don't understand or don't care, that's American basketball.

And this is the end-all of the season.

Whoever wins 4 out of 7 games wins the title of National Champions.

For one year.

And Phoenix has won the first two games.

It's a really big deal.

But not quite as big a deal as these moments of risibility (a word I just learned this week. Look it up if you don't know it.)

Y'know what?

I think that's enough.

If you aren't holding your tummies in glee by now . . . you're probably groaning in agony.

So let me wish you an angst-free weekend full of glorious ecstasy.

And don't ever forget: keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

EVOLUTION

 

Hippie Catalyst - 1971

Crazy Grand-Pa Catalyst - 2021

What a difference 50 years can make.

TOMATO, TAMAHTOE

 Scanning some of my blog colleagues work today I decided it was time for a little update on our gardening efforts.

So we examine the back patio tomato barrel.

It's looking a bit sun-withered but what are you going to do?

We live in Arizona, which is a notably sunny place, and our rainfall this year so far is even below normal.

But the hose is there and there are signs that something is working.

There are two different plants in there this year and these are products of an alleged Cherry Tomato plant.

Getting down and peering into the interior we can see signs of progress on the other plant too, which promises larger tomatoes.

So we keep on with judicious watering and waiting to see what will develop.

As the Guy Clark song says, there ain't nuthin' in the world like Home Grown Tomatoes.

ELEMENTARY, WATSON

 Get the bird books!

We've got a new species!

It resembles the Cowbirds that frequent our back yard but this one appears to have a blindingly white beak.

I've never seen one like that so it must be something new.

Let's blow this photo up a bit and get a better look.

About that time SWMBO, watching from the other room, said "It doesn't have a white beak, it's carrying something around in its mouth."

She said she'd been observing it and watched it even wash the object off in the lower water container before hopping around the yard with it.

I hate it when she's right so quickly but at least she *couldn't* identify what it was carrying.

The Cowbirds (if that's what they are) are a delight to watch as they usually fly up to the wall and strut along it's length.

FUTURE AND PAST

 I know I'm growing old.

After all, I was born in 1940.

But apparently that word has gotten out.

I received what I would call a "spam" email this morning from an entity inviting me to take a virtual tour of what they call "11 Beautiful Cemeteries" around the world.

Now I have no fear of my onrushing demise but I'm not encouraging it either.

So I declined the invitation to visit famous resting places.

I have been to the gravesites of my parents and my grandparents and I have seen a photograph of my great-grandparents tombstone.

But there's one place I probably will never visit but would like to.

It's now called the Taylor-Bray Farm and it's on the original site in what is now Yarmouth Port, Massachusetts where my 7th great-grandfather, Richard Taylor, settled after arriving from England in 1639.

He built his home near a large rock and became known as Richard "Rock" Taylor to distinguish himself from another Richard Taylor who had come over the pond at the same time.

The farm stayed in the Taylor family until the late 1800's when it was sold to George and William Bray, who farmed there for another 50 years.

They had a stone plaque installed commemorating the first Taylor's founding of the site.

I know, I can't read much of it either.

Now, in the way of the Bible, Richard begat Richard Jr, who begat Jasher, who begat Isaac, who begat Stephen, who begat Ansel, who begat Emmons, who begat Berthold, who begat Franklin, who was my father.

Of course there were many other children "begatted" through the centuries.

I remember once coming into a genealogy of our family and was being pretty impressed with myself until I read that Taylor was about the sixth most common name in the country.

But back to the Taylor-Bray Farm.

It's a National Historic Site now and a preservation website claims it was inhabited by Native Americans for some 10,000 years!

So there's a lot of history there.

But I bet Richard "Rock" Taylor would never have imagined that a very distant relative of his would someday make his living for a time as a "rock and roll" disc jockey.

SATURDAY PROJECT

 Banana Bread (with Walnuts and Coconut).

First cut.

Delish!

The coconut gives it an added kick.

(Mark Bittman's recipe)

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 To those of you who join me in being confused about what day it is, it's Friday.

Once again.

And I and my crack team of humorologists have been hard at work excavating some items from the Inner Web to titillate and amuse you.

So let us proceed.

And with that, fine friends and fanatic followers, I shall finalize this week of friskiness and folly and put a "finis" on it.

Now, let's all get out there this weekend and have a Fabulous Fourth.

Well at least those of y'all in the Yew-nited States of Amurrica.

I invite the rest of you to also have a great weekend.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

TALES OF THE CARIB

 

Chili's calls it a Caribbean Salad.

Judy calls it "Mmmmmmmmm".

A STORMY SKY

 

And a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

RE-THINKING

 The birds that visit our back yard are a constant source of pleasure and ofttimes amusement.

For example, this sequence involving one of the doves.

I first spotted him on the wall contemplating a brief flight to the birdbath for a drink.

I grabbed a camera and was rewarded with this shot as he changed his mind, midflight.

Rather than landing, he aborted his mission and flew back to the wall.

I'm not sure what frightened him but a bit later I saw another dove marching around on the ground and the sight of a potential competitor may have been the reason.

At any rate, he sat on the wall for awhile before flying away.

Dare I ask if his mien depicted consternation or embarrassment?

SMOKE

 Firefighters are slowly, very slowly, getting a handle on the Raphael fire north of here.

We are in no danger except for the incredibly smoky skies.

Here's what it looks like this afternoon.

That photo doesn't really do it justice.

Here's the view toward the town with the Bradshaw Mountains to the south nearly being obscured.

It's a stinking mess with the north wind blowing the smoke down to us and, I read yesterday, even 80 miles further south into Phoenix.

HE'S OUTA HERE

After a quick dip in the pool, this robin is gone. 

A NEW SCOTT

 We had a visit recently from Judy's firstborn, Scott, from Indiana.

We often say that he looks different each time we see him and this year was certainly no different.

Not only has his hair and beard gone snow white but three braids or "pom-poms" hung down from his face.

Though I teased him, calling him "the Rabbi", he said he's received many compliments from ladies about them.

He said his beard is bristly and irritates his neck so he braided it to keep it away until it gets longer.

It was a new idea to me but lo and behold just a few days later I encountered an elderly man in a grocery store who also had a snow white beard with a braided ball of hair hanging from his chin.

At any rate, here's the matriarch with two of her tribe of three.

PRISMATIC LIGHT

 

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 

Have a good weekend and always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(---)

 

NEW SEATING

 When you get to be our age (the 80's, for those who care) life becomes somehow more simple.

The Wisdomatics would have you believe otherwise.

They'd say things like "Do you have a will?" or "Who's going to take care of you?" or "What will you do if you have to go to a hospital?" or some blather like that.

But if, like us, you're in "fairly" good health and most of your bills are paid and you have an excellent family provider in the neighborhood, your cares become much smaller.

Like, "Damn, these chairs are uncomfortable!"

We bought them less than ten years ago but for some reason the padding on our derrieres seems to have thinned in that time.

They were patio chairs, part of what SWMBO insists is called a Bistro Set.

But they were metal, hard like steel, and the pads on them had ceased to provide comfort.

Plus the arm-rails were harder than they used to be.

Do you know what I mean?

So she began "researching".

(That's what she insists on calling "shopping.")

And she found some plastic Adirondack chairs at a local store and sent me to buy them.

Which I did.

But when they arrived, after a day or so of trying them, she found that not only are they difficult to drag these old bones out of, they were still a tad less than comfortable to our backsides.

So she "researched" some more and found some chair pads.

Which arrived today, delivered to our door, thank you very much, retailer.

And here, without further ado, though I have wasted much "ado" up until now, they are.

Pretty snazzy, eh?

(Joeh, "snazzy" is another term from the Bowery Boys lexicon. It means "fab" or "rad" or, just, "cool.")

So there you are.

New chairs.

New pads.

New comfort.

Happy Fathers' Day.