Another week winds its way to an end. And what a week it’s been. We had the release of the best phone ever (as long as you don’t hold it in your hand; personally, I’m lusting after the Droid X, which will not only not be tied to ATT, but will also run Android 2.2 and Flash Player 10.1, and, of course, is open source and not subject to the heavy thumb of Apple), had the General in charge of Afghanistan get fired (gee, I hope things don’t start to go badly for us there), and we got to see Weds Johnson and Jonny Flynn get reunited (which makes us happy here, even if the Minnesota fans don’t seem to happy about it). Of course, the best part of this week was getting my USB plasma ball yesterday. And today, my “Your Mom Sells Weed” t-shirt from Showtime should be coming.
The dogs and I will be bach’ing it for a couple of weeks, starting tomorrow, as Granny heads off Minneapolis. It would be nice if she’d take the cats with her so I didn’t have to clean the litter box, but I figure if I don’t feed ’em, I shouldn’t have much to clean.
This weekend is Jazzfest, too! I only wish I had time to go, but, sadly, I don’t.
Oh well, time to get this week over with.
RG, have a safe trip. Are you going to see those grand kids? I think it’s time for more pictures.
We are at the north east end of Kentucky, a state of contrasts from the manicured horsey wealth of Lexington to the old coal towns. Saw a huge highway sign: Hell is Real, which convinced me, of course, and a number of three cross, homemade displays on hills.
Today it’s Pennsylvania and tomorrow home, probably.
Sue,
I was hoping to hear some travelogging from my ancestral West Virginia homeland, at least one slaw dog report. I may have to settle for RG having a breakfast at Hell’s Kitchen in Minny. I miss that place. I think the Frankens dine there when in town. This was my favorite
Deviliscious!
I have a strong hankering for extra-deepfried spicy chicken. Must be because of the fish I’ve been eating.
I’d gladly send you a few buckets for a nice fresh king.
I’ll see how things develop. Maybe in August.The fish will have to be frozen, vacuum packed with gel-ice, and shipped next day air. The rate here is five dollars a pound, so a 15 pound king would be a lot of chicken.
Vernon, it sounds both sinful and delicious.
We drove from northeast Kentucky, through West Virginia, then to Maryland and finally to Pennsylvania. Hubby was determined and so there was no stopping except for gas. At one point, on route 40 in West Virginia, we got gas across the street from a little cafe and antique shop and hubby got excited that there may be real food served there as opposed to the preprocessed stuff at Subway. (Subway is ubiquitous across the country. There is one at every gas station.) Anyway, I walked across the street and asked for ham and egg on a roll. The counter guy was confused by the roll stuff and offered me something else which turned out to be egg, cheese and bacon on a biscuit. Hubby seemed mighty pleased so it must have been good.
He was also very anxious to hear me talk though I assured him that the old tirty tird street, choich, kind of Brooklyn accent was only available in old 40′[s movies. His accent was pretty thick, too, but understandable to me. I think TV has helped to make us all a little more understandable to each other.
http://i976.photobucket.com/albums/ae244/Travis2010_album/75be5289.jpg
That work?