Goodnight! *grumble*

The day should be over, but I linger. My candle is glowing and warm, the wax and flame in harmony. I think of the day, the recent days, and the days long past. It is odd how we may overlook the five pound gold nuggets for the little bit of dirt on the treasure. As I mine the past, I find that I am wealthy beyond measure. Most of my losses have been gains, many of my pains provided growth, and much of my folly has been forgiven. There are days to come, trials and tribulations, toil and pain, but I can look forward to these, smiling on them as I smile on those of the past. A little history based precognition along with faith will carry one far I think.

I managed to get the milk. I had to go through the jungle to get it, and in more ways than one. I had locked my back gate, as I was having many unwelcome and shady types wandering through my lawn at all hours of the night. That I can be up at any time, day or night, and started peaking out, and with my size, the difficulty slowed but until I finally locked the gate down it did not end. Well, it has been locked and unused for over a year. And a vine or ten had grown over the gate. I enjoy the vine, and it has it’s own uses, so I did not want to simply cut it. I negotiated it like any fine adventurer might do. Have you ever seen a bear play limbo? That is probably what it looked like. I completed the task, lowering about to mid thigh backward, and through in some odd tangle of manflesh, then I promptly locked the gate and headed to the store.

Wow, what I had indicated about the neighborhood going to pot I finally got to see very close up. Two thugs, with their various gold teeth, their customary odd gaits, definite attitude, along with their blond blue eyed yet corn-rowed girlthing walked parallel to me, going in the opposite direction. These are the type if you see on your property or heading your way somewhere they should not be, you get a shotgun, then call the police. They did not like me, and it was mutual. Nothing personal here, mostly, just business. Oil and water, they were definite floaters (needing flushed). There were others, but after the Crips, Bloods, or whatever, they were minor. It was sad to see the good people that lived in the area cower and scurry for safety, and yes, I can sense them too. Thanks to the local voters, we will be getting a lot more of the stereotypes. Thank God for .45’s. Those 9 mm’s they carry, and the way they shoot, hehe, I am not sure if it would be better or worse for them if they hit me whether I am armed or not. I am a weapon. Funny, this county only allows them to carry though. Denying conceal carry to all but the city council, and thugs (what is the difference here?). As the police certainly would not wish to hassle such fine upstanding gangsters.

I get to the store, nobody dies, and I head to the dairy section. Drats, they do not have my favorite milk. I like A&E, and I am pretty serious about it. The flavor is excellent, for pasteurized, and to me. The company adds a freshness seal under and along with the cap. It costs a little more, but lasts a good deal longer. So, I go to my next favored. It is “hormone free”, like I care. Well, actually I do! I am used to hormones at this point, especially if it goes to flavor. As well, the bottle says right on it that the FDA finds no differences in the milk. And, it is a good deal more expensive. Still, it is what I can get, it is the next in line in my flavor category, and it comes in GLASS BOTTLES (a true joy in some part of my hoary heart!). Some dietary goods I do not skimp on, milk, meat, and butter for sure. So, I grab and go. As I am leaving the store, an attractive lady takes note of me. She almost approaches and speaks. Her eyes are smiling and something else, a kind of approval, almost a recognition though I am sure I would remember such a woman, so no. She takes me in, hiking boots and woolen socks, cotton cargo shorts, poplin shirt, and on to the top of my head. And looks again to take the whole picture in as if seeing a brother, friend, or friendly past love by surprise after a long separation, and approving of a new look. It was an odd thing, but a pleasant oddity. I had no ground on which my sensibilities allowed me to tread, so I merely smiled, nodded pleasantly, and ambled back to my cave. Sometimes the sun just shines, it did at that moment and that moment will be a warming memory for some time.

Now, back to the fence I march. I really do not walk as such, I move. I slow for pleasant company’s sake, for security reasons, or rarely just because. Hmm, nice, slow times are fond memories, occasions, like finding a rose in the middle of nowhere, blossoming as if just for you. Rare and special. I can almost smell the perfumes of the various joys Father made and scattered to be found, to remind, and to please. The neighbor ladies are out and wave. I wave back as I angle toward my yard. As I get to the gate, I realize I will need to take care with the negotiation, as my pack I wore for the task of handsfree transport of my buy is now heavier and contains glass, glass beside glass more to the point. I close on the gait, unlock it, and begin a careful limbo like maneuver, safely out of view of the women. Well, ok, I am doing pretty good at first. Urhm, the ladies have walked to a position where they can view my exploits or I had misgauged the angle of their vision on my approach vector. Beyond, my pack gets stuck as I get halfway through, with one vine dropping ahead of me and below my limbo to add to the fun. So, I dance and skip to no avail. Finally, I slip out of the pack with great care and ease it to a controlled grip, all while still in my limbo maneuver. I am sure they had to have a chuckle (I would have, I am). Finally I complete the maneuver and am able to begin loosening the back pack from it’s snag. This I do swiftly in my new found freedom of motion and angle of attack. So much for the super man image.

I had not talked to the ladies in a while, so I head their way. They were waving, again, even before I decide to do so, which I take to mean I am welcome and invited by the way the wave is performed. I, though not truly shy, try to be unassuming. I stand on some old formalities, from some unknown source. An invitation is almost always necessary. A best friend asked if the invitation needed to be formal and in gold lettering, without even question it’s necessity. And being cryptic as I am, I said “Yes, and with signed delivery if you please” to great laughs. That was in highschool.

We have a little pleasant conversation, catching up on bits of this and that. They are pretty women, and friendly if often quite busy, each having three or more children, husbands, full lives, and one with a son almost ready to begin pestering his soon to be, presently pregnant, mother with his little baby boy joys. hehehe I guess I am prejudiced in some things. It is the small joys, as I keep saying. During the conversation, one of the ladies compliments my newly formed goatee. It’s a proper full one, going from nostrils to the chin and neck nexus, and then from about the middle of my eye to middle of my other eye. I thank her, but have a question. What if I shaved part of it off? And she says, just do not shave off the lower part. She believes that is a bit, well, funny. I am not exactly sure what she means, so in my practiced diplomatic way, I suggest that, yes, mustached men may easily make my gaydar go off. Apparently these ladies had never heard the term, and one sort of chuckles and repeats the term a few times, part questioning, part thinking, and then part chuckling in realization. No, she says, you would never be taken as ‘that’. Good and all, but I think to dig more holes, since I did not sink too far in this one! I say, in this town, one must take care. I have been, urhm, approached by men and I did not see it coming. Uncomfortable, I say. It is best to just be businesslike and not be too open if, as a man, you do not know the other man you are dealing with here. She agrees, and repeats part of that, while the other wife calls her husband so that we may talk. I think they have had enough male sense and sensibility for the moment.

My neighbor arrives and we begin chewing the fat. As I had written previously, we had been planning a boating event last week. But I had just not been up to it. It seems he had his hands full in any case and was probably pleased I had not contacted him, as he would have felt bad about having to say no. His sump pump failed during the last storm and they had water to deal with and a sump pump to fix. And, he had needed to take care of some of his schooling (or he was being quite diplomatic, he is a sharp fellow). As unfortunate as that was, I was relieved that neither of us had let the other down. Good, says I, so what about the future? He says, well, there is this, that, and the other day, any of which I could be free. Hmmm, tomorrow sounds swell. So, I am on for a fishing expedition, probably with pop, two boys, a boat, and lots of gear. Ha, see, was not that easy? We talk a bit more, but he must get in and finish a few odds and ends, and I need to go too, so we part with our customary hand-shake or nod.

I refrigerate the milk immediately. This organo type stuff does not last well. Then, I start thinking I am hungry. I get on the machine, and continue to ponder a meal. A few hours later, I decide it is time. Not so fast, says that nagging conscience. Do the dishes first, and when you are done, cook the grains you had indicated you would while cooking your meal. I negotiated well by caving completely. Still, the rib eye was worth the wait. I tried a new type of salt while cooking the steak. I used kosher salt, after hearing good things about it. I put just a pinch on each side, and into the hot (griddle type) pan it went. I started the millet barley mix as well. While letting the steak rest, I pour a glass of milk and set the table. I then plate the steak, table it, seat myself, say Grace, and finger my implements. I was just about to set my silverware aside in order to acquire the salt shaker, but then reconsidered. This was a new salt, why not give it a chance, I ponder. Oh, my word. That very scant salting had permeated the beef perfectly. No extra salt was necessary, nor was it too salty. Beautiful, a new find that works as advertised or better. I will have to obtain a salt pig in order to more easily use this find, as it does not shake well from my standard salt shaker and I do not wish to potentially damage this salts nature by using a salt grinder (plus, I have been eyeing salt pigs for a while, wishing for some real reason to make purchase of said).

Actually, I should add that after enough exposure, and though I do not approve, the queer crowd is not a bother so long as they do not present their problem in such a way that I may not avoid it. I spit sometimes, but I do not spit on other people. I cough, but again, I do not cough on other people. All I ask is the same courtesy. I realize this is their playground, but is decorum that dated of a concept? That even goes for straight couples. Hands were I can see them and tongues in their proper places, please. Really, if it is that necessary, find a private place and tend the problem. And as the lady said, I do not look like ‘that’, so assume not and be right once in your life. Well, two rants to maybe five rambles, not so bad.

As I complete this, I think I shall do a final bit of washing and food tending, then grumble my way off to bed in spite of being fed, satisfied, and looking forward to a new day and a new week. Sometimes a guy just needs to grumble to keep in practice I think.