It's Full Moon Friday!
Also the final time my friend Phil can celebrate his birthday by saying "I'm seventy- - - -."
How quickly the years have passed.
So for Phil and all other Senior Citizens, here's a diet regimen to help you live on into your "Golden Years".
Your scribe, some time in the 1940's.
Gadfrey!
That necktie!
That collar!
That smirk!
Then . . . 70 or so years later.
The plants seem to be enjoying our cooler and wetter weather of late.
The gourd vines are beginning to climb their stakes and heading for the arbor supports.
Once upon a time there was a curious black cat.
He used to show up on our back wall from time to time.
Yesterday we had a young Mountain Jay in the birdbath.
Today it was a young Robin enjoying the waters.
He's nearly submerged in this photo as he dunks his face and his body in the cooling bath.
If I had only that photo it would be hard to identify him.
But there's another where he comes up for air.
We finally got a fairly heavy rain here last night.
We were watching "The Queen" on Netflix and sometimes the crashing thunder echoed the drama on our t.v. screen.
We had opened the windows and when the movie was over and I came into my room to check my email, I found water all over my desk and keyboard.
As I was swabbing it all off Judy asked me if the keyboard was ruined.
I said "No, it was dirty and needed a washing!"
At any rate, after I got the water shaken and mopped off, it worked just fine and still is this morning.
I once had a friend who said when your keyboard gets dirty you can just run it through the dish washer.
I have yet to try that.
I just heard some squawking coming from the backyard and when I glanced up I saw this noisy guy on our birdbath.
Judging by his conduct and the amount of fluffy gray feathers I think he's a fledgling Mountain Jay.
But as has been noted by SWMBO and commenters here before, the Jays seem to know that birdbaths that match their coloration are safe harbors for them.
A couple of doves apparently have a nest under the eaves of an empty neighboring house.
They've been flying back and forth from it repeatedly this morning.
And as I was opening the blinds in the front room I saw a couple of finches playing tag out front.
It seems the birds appreciate the rainfall and cooler temperatures as much as we do.
I must have risen from the Arms of Morpheus too early.
Or too late.
I dunno but I can't think of a thing to write.
So . . .
The rains have arrived.
So far we've avoided severe storms here but there have been some which have hit the area with high winds, heavy rain and hail causing some damage.
This was the sky toward the East yesterday evening.
As I have noted many times on this blog I was born and raised in northwestern North Dakota, about 50 miles south of Saskatchewan and around 90 miles east of Montana.
My father was a typical duke's mixture of someone whose family line went back in this country a few hundred years: English, Scotch, Irish, whatever.
My mother, however, was pure Norwegian.
Her grandparents both came over from Norway.
Since she did most of the cooking, our food tended to be rather bland.
Oh, it was good and we all loved her baking of breads, cookies, pies and cakes.
But our diet tended to be on the mild side.
And that was my taste for many years.
When I reached adulthood my idea of a great meal was a steak fried to medium well done, never any of that red showing, and a huge baked potato.
But since then I've lived over half of my life in Arizona, where Tex-Mex food predominates.
Excuse me, it's not true Mexican food, no matter what the hundreds of cafes advertise.
And I lived nearly five years in Mexico itself, where I found out the difference.
My wife makes a mean meat loaf but over the years she has expanded her expertise to master Oriental food and stir-fry meals.
And over the years my tongue has changed somewhat.
But now in our later years she's grown tired of cooking and, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, she says her palate can no longer handle spicy food.
So if I want something "sparked up" a bit I have to do it myself.
Which led me to purchase a bottle of what passes itself off as Indonesian hot sauce.
I use it on scrambled eggs, only a teaspoon or so and with a glass of ice water close at hand.
The ingredients are listed as red jalapeno and habanero peppers, garlic, cane sugar and a few other things.
When Judy's son was out here a year ago he asked for some hot sauce on something we had served him and he tried this sauce.
He said it was sweet and later I could see what he meant.
I suppose the cane sugar gave the heat a sweet edge.
I should point out that he does most of his own cooking and he likes his food spicy HOT.
So there's your cooking tip for the day: Sambal hot sauce.
And remember the slogan printed on the bottle's label: "Pain is Good!"
Here's something you don't see every day.
Well, if you don't live in Arizona.
I suppose locals who (foolishly) go out for hikes in our 100 degree heat on a daily basis probably see plenty of them.
I, suffice it to say, am not one of them.
Now Judy, aka SWMBO, claims to have seen one of these critters in our yard before but I believe it's a new sighting for me.
So don't allow me to leave you in suspense for another second.
It's the Wily Roadrunner, paying a quick visit.
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 . . .
