I’ve got a great idea about what President Obama should do: He should pick up the bullpen phone and bring Mariano into the game.
There are two reasons you can’t let sleeping dogs lie, or tell the truth: Dogs can’t speak any language people can understand; and they’re sleeping.
I’ve had it with all the changes in Facebook. I think they should slow the pace of their changes.
Andy Rooney wasn’t on the season opener of 60 Minutes for the first time since 1978. Now, CBS has announced that this Sunday will be Andy’s final regular appearance on the show. They didn’t say he retired or that he was forced out, although either is a possibility since he is 92 years old and his act seems to appeal more to older rather than younger viewers. Who knows? Perhaps CBS has initiated a late retirement program and Andy decided to take advantage of it.
On the Smithsonian Channels program Aerial America, the narrator talked about a monastery near Carmel California that houses nuns. Then it isn’t a monastery, is it? Monasteries house monks. Nuns live in nunneries or convents. These days, some also live in private residences, rather than communally.
Not that you asked, but here’s another progress report on remodeling our house. All the living room walls are now coated with one coat of beige paint. My wife accepted my desire for beige. You see, if we decide to sell this house before it needs to be painted again, I wont have to paint it again if it’s a nice neutral color.
If Warren Buffet thinks he doesn’t pay enough taxes, there’s nothing to prevent him from donating something to the government to make up the difference.
Occasionally, in the middle of the night, I dream that the door bell is ringing. When that happens, it always wakes me up.
I have to laugh whenever I hear teachers’ unions talk about class size. From first to third grade, I went to Catholic school. We didn’t have small classes. We didn’t have teacher’s aides. We did have 65 kids in a class, one nun with a ruler establishing, and maintaining discipline. Her name was Sister Mary Knucklebuster.
I had a crush on a pretty little blonde girl in my first-grade class. She sat by the classroom door because her surname was near the beginning of the alphabet; I sat near the windows because my name was near the end of the alphabet, so we never met.
Here’s to horticultural success. Last fall, I bought a couple of pots of mums to put on my front stoop. When the flowers fell off, I divided the plants into several pieces and planted them in the bed in front of my porch. They survived and within the last few days, they’ve started coming into bloom.
On the agriculture front, I had more limited success. My crop of tomatoes tasted good, but a lot of them were ruined by blossom-end rot. When I clean up the beds soon, I’m going to till some gypsum into the soil. I’ll do it again in the spring before I plant and that ought to prevent the same thing from happening next year. Maybe I’ll plant some winter rye too.
One of my trellises broke this summer though, so I’ll either have to fix it or try a different kind.
Next summer, I’ll also have to be more vigilant because this year, the birds got to my blueberries before I could.