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) . . .

OSCAR SEASON

It's time for another of my musical interludes.

(Once a disc jockey, always a disc jockey.)

Tonight, and it's always night for this guy's playing, I'm featuring a Canadian jazz pianist who I, many decades ago after listening to a performance of his on a record, said this guy has the fastest hands in the world.

He's doing a pretty much solo job here though he is backed by the great guitarist Barney Kessel and the bassist Niels Pedersen.

It was recorded in 1974 and it's about 8 minutes long so sit back, get comfortable and watch and listen to a master at the keyboard.

For the record, Peterson died in 2007 at the age of 82.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 It's a very grey, overcast day in the Central Highlands of Arizona this morning.

I guess the Weather Gods want me to shine a little light onto the landscape.

So here goes.

So that's it, friends and neighbors; that's my contribution to the betterment of humankind for this week.

Now the rest is up to you.

Stop that insane laughing for a minute and listen up.

I want you all to have an absolutely splendiferous weekend, full of feasting and drinking and dancing and . . .

Oh, never mind, just try and make it to Monday.

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(YIKES!)

STALKER

 I took a photo through my window of the back yard yesterday.

Something attracted my attention.

Do you see it?

Here, I'll crop the photo down and run it through my editing software.

Now you can see him, if you didn't before.

This Siamese visits from time to time, though he's too nervous to be approached.

On this visit he was definitely in stalking mode.

We speculated whether he was after a bird or a grasshopper or a snake.

I tapped on the window and asked him but he wasn't telling.

Eventually he crept all the way across the yard, up onto our patio and underneath a chair.

But finally, seeing nothing in his path and growing tired of the game, I slid the door open.

He darted back across the yard, up on the wall and away.

Only then did his prey appear.

It was just Matty, teasing the invader as he stopped in for his morning snack and nap.

A TEST

 How well do you remember Sir Connery's accent?

That's key.

CHEESE BREAD

 Back, back, back we go into the depths of the Taylor Family Bakery and here is the result.

Parmesan baked on the top and bottom, cubes of melting cheddar inside, alongside a dab of sour cream and a dash of cayenne.

I can't wait to try it but here's the hard part: the recipe (from America's Test Kitchen) says to cool completely before cutting into it.

THREE HOURS!

I may have to fight SWMBO as she is not wont to wait but I cannot bring myself to argue with the master bakers from America's Test Kitchen.

So for the next couple of hours in purgatory, all I can do is glance longingly at it as I walk (frequently) through the kitchen.

MONDAY MUSINGS

 In 2004 I was working for a peanut-whistle small radio station as a news director, a title that didn't really mean anything because I didn't really have any change in my duties nor did I get a raise in pay from when I was *just* a reporter.

It was a long way from my *glory days* but I just needed a modest paycheck for a couple of years to get me to good old Social Security.

And after many decades out of "the business" and seven years of scraping by in a barely surviving bookstore with my wife, I was enjoying myself.

But I had no dreams about the future.

Meanwhile, far across the country at Harvard University, a young lad had started a silly little website called Facemash the year before but it was shut down only a few days later by the school administrators who charged the student with breaking security and violating copyrights and the privacy of his fellow students.

They threatened to kick him out of the hallowed halls but in the end they dropped all the charges and let him stay.

Then in 2004, while I was still muddling my way toward retirement, that student, Mark Zuckerberg, created a variant website which he called "TheFacebook".

Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it.

Zuckerberg's creation, which a year later dropped "The" from it's name, nearly instantly created controversy with several other students claiming he had stolen their ideas and sueing him.

(They finally won their suit in 2008, gaining about 300 million smackeroos in then Facebook stock.)

Over the years, a number of shall we say unsavory characters have aligned with the Facebook empire and later gone their own ways but it hasn't seemed to have hurt Zuckerberg.

As of last year his site claims to have nearly three billion users around the world, he makes between 6 and 12 million dollars every DAY and he's worth around 123 billion bucks.

Well, until today.

With Facebook's problems today the stock took a header and Mark Z. lost nearly six billion dollars.

Probably that young giddy Harvard student isn't quite as cheerful tonight as he and his minions try to figure out what happened.

Me?

I'm a few light years away from his even-reduced net worth but I'll bet I sleep better tonight.

YOUR SUNDAY LESSON

 

(Special thanks to Wacky Wally.  And Gary Larson.)

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

 Tis Friday and Happy Joke-tober!

It's time to begin thinking about changing colors in the forests and changing clothes for the weekend.

It's the time of year when young tot's minds turn to Halloween, young people's minds turn to college and football, and we all look forward to Thanksgiving.

And some of us (I mean you, William) look forward to winter, snow, ice and frigid temperatures.

As for me, I just look for another day.

And, of course, to The Friday Funnies!

(Did I hear someone say "Punnies"?)

Now that ought to keep you pun-lovers happy for awhile.

For the rest (vast majority) of you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Just try to get over it, all of you, and have a splendid weekend.

And no matter how much it hurts, always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Oh sure, everyone wants to get into the act.)