Peter (on the left) makes the best rum drinks on the island.
Yesterday was a full day. I drove down early in a driving rain to the coast to get my RV. Now was as good of time as any to retrieve the RV since the rent would be due in a week.
What I was prepared for was a cold drizzle but when I got there it was a pelting cold rain. I had a lot of outdoor work to do. In 30 minutes I was soaked to the bone remembering Gigi instructing me before I left to take heavier rain gear.
In an hour I was sweeping off the roof feeling like a rigger in the
I got home safely had a few warming glasses of wine and watched Cops. Then off to bed where I had this very strange and disturbing dream.
I dreamed Gigi had this gigantic scrotum and testicles surgically implanted and she was so proud. She explained it was fashionable now for women to have balls and these were acceptable and commonplace like body piercings and tattoos.
They didn’t do a thing for me. I asked if they could be removed and she said, “Yes, but why would you?”
Today it is warm in the upper 50’s and I’ve been out mending fences for the return of our two horses.
I figured the electric fence better be hot just in case they want to test the boundaries. The electric fence hasn’t been hot for maybe a year but the horses thought it was hot so they stayed back. Honestly I could have put up string and they would have stayed clear.
I’ve been hit a few times by this electric fence and thought lightning was going to come arching from my nipples. It will sure get your attention.
So while walking the line I found maybe a dozen breaks, 8 shorts and around 100 yards of vines and undergrowth that led to the demise of the fence. It’s all cleared and repaired except for a small area that I’ll fix after lunch.
Tomorrow I am going to drive down to
So tomorrow will be a long day and about 500 miles.
Then Sunday at midday promises 40 degrees and rain as I pick up the horses and bring them home hopefully well trained.
I saw Gigi riding Sassy last Sunday and the horse would barely move. Sassy has always hated being a horse. I hate riding a horse so Sassy and I will get along just fine.
I woke up around 4 AM with indigestion all to be damn. What could be wrong I thought?
Let’s see, I was sick as hell two days ago. Gigi is sick with the same thing so I had no formal supper last night.
What did I have…oh yes a few slices of cheese, a sardine, a cupcake, a few cheez-its and some wine.
Hmmmm…ya think that could have done it?
Happy Thanksgiving wishes to all.
Let me suggest a good read and Thanksgiving story that starts on the blog of my regular read Micky T and continues on yet another blog. It reminds me of the same times in the 1970’s when I was their age.
The winner of the contest has been chosen. I will personally present the prize on Feb 8, 2009.
No hints, you’ll have to wait.
Winter caught up with me yesterday. Mid day I became deathly ill with shivers, chills nausea, and just a general “oh crap I am sick” feeling all over.
I went home mid day after a purge and slept 14 hours.
I am better today but weak.
Why does this only happen to me in the winter? I never get sick in the summer.
And now a poem sent by a friend:
A WOMAN'S POEM:
Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door.
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to 'how big is my behind?'
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.
A MAN'S POEM:
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnast nymphomaniac with
huge boobs who owns a bar on a golf course,
and loves to send me fishing and drinking. This
doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit..
Let me first say that politically I am a conservative. Second currently there is no popular political party that even comes close to representing how I feel the
I held my nose and voted for President a few weeks ago. I wasn’t enamored by either candidate.
One guy won under a groundswell of passion from the likes of a lot of my friends and relatives.
One guy won under a groundswell of passion from the likes of a lot of my friends and relatives.
Okay, good. We can go about our normal lives….not so fast.
My republican pals are now blaming everything that is bad on Obama even though the guy hasn’t taken office.
My democratic pal’s are just angry now for what, I don’t know. I would think the democrats would be jubilant. This is good as it gets my democratic friends. You’ll soon have 100% control of the federal government. Be happy; get to working and making the government like you want.
The election is over let’s talk about other things and be nice. Everyone has the right to think and believe what they want to think and believe. I just don’t want to hear about it all the time.
I know some of you will think I am a dandy boy but I really enjoy good stemware and using the proper stemware with the appropriate drink.
For those of you who drink everything from a Styrofoam cup you may want to come back another day.
The other night I met a group of guys at a very nice restaurant and we all had drinks at the bar before dinner. This was a top shelf place like what you’d expect AIG executives to be eating at after a 75 Billion Dollar injection of capital from the Federal Government.
My host picked a wine, a nice bold cabernet and the bartender picked up a shiny, spotless big cabernet glass and poured the plum colored nectar. She sat the glass down in front of me and I beheld its beauty.
I swirled, sniffed and sipped this classic varietal holding the glass by the stem as to not dirty the glass with fingerprints and I didn’t want to disturb the cellaring temperature of the wine by the warming heat of my hand touching the bowl.
Ah, this is mighty fine. All is right with the world.
Then we proceeded to the table and my host ordered a bottle of the same wine for dinner.
The waiter began to pour the wine in what appeared to be much inferior wine glasses with thick glass sides, small bowls and short stems. My host and I at the same time stopped him and asked for an upgrade of wine glasses which he gladly did.
I couldn’t understand why he would whip out the Appleby glasses when he saw the quality glasses we were drinking from at the bar.
The same goes for beer. Why not drink from a clean clear pilsner glass where you can see the bubbles and foam if you have a choice over drinking directly from the can or bottle.
If you want a small collection of inexpensive and elegant stemware go to Worldmarket where you can find reasonable cabernet glasses for $6.99 each. I keep 8 around and always buy another every time I go there to replace and chipped or broken rims.
My glasses clean very well, sparkling and shiny using Cascade Double action in our dish washer.
Let me take snobbery up another notch. If you are about to pour a really fine wine it pays to gently breathe into an empty glass and then smell for detergent. Nothing ruins a good wine like soap residue.
Lastly, acrylic glasses don’t work. There are plastic, don’t go there. The exception to the rule is a high quality Tervis Tumbler with a mixed drink in a warm climate.
From a St Croix jobs listing:
Tip for Food/Drink Service: People who plan to work in food/drink service need health cards. Health cards are issued at the Community Health Clinic. On St. Thomas the clinic is located in the Roy Schneider Hospital, second floor. The cost is around $46.60. Requirements are a photo ID, pictures, a social security card and you are required to take a stool test.
Is there study material for this test?
Should I bring a turd or produce one while I'm there to prove it is mine.
I have to show them a turd to serve food...did I hear that right?
Over the river and through the wood to Judy’s house I go.
It is the Saturday when the Hunnicutt side of the family meets at my sister’s house in
Each member is in charge of certain foods. My charge is to make the traditional Hunnicutt yams and give a try at some of my new crusty bread.
Our yams are unique because they make heavy use of allspice. The recipe is simple. I know we having been eating yams by this recipe on my father’s side since around 1875. I alone am the torch bearer and I modified the recipe a few years ago to add some cinnamon.
I take canned yams or small canned sweet potatoes and slice them in a casserole dish. Each layer of potatoes gets a sprinkle of sugar, allspice, and a few dollops of butter. Keep doing this until you have the desired amount of yams.
I usually add a bit of the syrup from one of the cans.
They cook at 325 for however long you want to. Usually I cook them for an hour or until they begin to turn dark and caramelize.
I modified the recipe a few years ago. I take the same ingredients but make a sauce on the side and add cinnamon to the sause. Once this gets syrupy and cools down I’ll pour the syrup in a zip lock bag full of yams and let them soak overnight.
The next day I pour the mixture in a dish and bake as usual.
What I discovered is allspice is a native
Allspice is referred to as Pimento in some areas like
This now explains to me the lyrics I hear in one of my favorite Reggae tunes:
We don't trouble your banana, we don't trouble your corn.
We don't trouble your pimento, we don't trouble you at all.
I thought they were growing pimento as in the red stuff in olives. He’s talking about an allspice crop in the song.
I swear, one day I’m growing me some long thick dreadlocks and I’m moving down there.
I stood this morning in the presence of one of my father’s hero’s. Maybe a hero is too strong but my dad had strong admiration for this man and knew all about him and his family.
I can’t say I have heroes. I would love to have dinner or play golf with any president past, present, or incoming especially Bill Clinton. Same goes for Tiger Woods or Bret Favre. These people are interesting to me and I would like a shot at seeing what makes them tick.
I was in the Harris Teeter grocery store this morning when I passed this very big man stooped down picking up a bag of flour. I recognized him and turned back and said, “Are you Mike?”
He stood up and his 7 foot presence towered over me like a grizzly next to a small black bear.
“Yes I am”, he said.
I smiled and put out my hand and he shook it. I told him my father lived and breathed Duke Basketball when he played.
He smiled and thanked me and I walked toward the checkout.
For a moment I became emotional thinking about my dad and how he would have liked to meet Mike Gminski.
He is a nice guy dad.
I despise the hideous pointed witch shoes women wear now. They are butt ugly on any woman and remind me of the wicked witch of the west on the Wizard of Oz.
Pointy shoes are the stirrup pants of our time. I look up to the heavens daily hoping that they will go out of style but I keep seeing women wear them.
I did notice a woman wearing a pair last week that exposed a bit of toe cleavage which is hot, but the shoes spoiled it all. She hobbled off like a cripple and got on the elevator.
I’ll stand by this opinion and will tell you your shoes are ugly as Ned’s Ass if you walk up to me with some of those pointy ugly ass things on your feet.
I bought a casual pair of men’s shoes on Ebay yesterday and was describing them to Gigi when she made all these ugly faces.
“Those sound like Jim Murray shoes”, as she describes any comfortable homely men’s shoes like our retired 80 something former pastor Jim Murray might wear.
“They aren’t ugly”, I implored.
How the hell would anyone know what a good looking shoe would look like if they wear witch shoes?
I have made an amazing discovery that has helped me endure our first snap of cold weather. Here is the secret; if I wear enough clothes I don’t get cold.
This may sound like common sense for most of you but for a guy who has lived his whole life in denial of winter this came as a welcomed discovery.
No longer am I dashing out to the car to get my cell phone in shorts and flip flops when it is 30 degrees outside. I now take the time to put on a thick coat, proper shoes and like magic I stay warm.
I really hate the bulkiness of winter clothing. Thick shirts tucked into heavy jeans all covered with a heavy coat. Hell I won’t know if I gained weight this winter until spring.
And when I shower now I feel so naked…. Like a picked chicken. But I am staying warm.
I love fine dining, clean glasses, silverware, doilies and manners. I ran across these suggestions on a blog. My comments follow.
1. When dining with six or more, it’s polite to wait till roughly 50% of the table has their food before starting your meal. In smaller groups, wait until the entire table has their food, unless food temperature is at high risk in decreasing the enjoyment of the meal, and/or others at the table incessantly insist you begin.
I didn’t know this and am damn glad I can start when half the guests are served. I was at a table of 20 the other day at Ruth Chris and waited for everyone to be served. Not anymore.
2. You can and should use your knife to cut large pieces of lettuce or other ingredients in your salad. Nothing is worse than trying to shove a large piece of lettuce in your mouth and having some of it stick out. (No brainer, but this applies to your entrée as well.)
I have forced myself to cut stuff in small pieces to slow down my eating.
3. The proper way to butter a piece of bread is to rip off a piece that’s about one or two bites in size, butter it, and eat it. Repeat. Never bite straight into a roll, and refrain from cutting it in half and buttering.
I did it this way and didn’t know it was proper. Also you are supposed to take butter from the main butter dish and transfer your portion to your bread plate to your left.
4. While cutting meat, the correct way is to cut a piece and then switch your fork to your right hand to pick it up. This method is considered the “American” way. Not switching your fork and using your left is called the “Continental” way, and is done most often in European countries. This way is gaining acceptance and I wouldn’t be surprised if one day soon it’s considered acceptable in fine dining. Also, cut meat a piece at a time. Cutting the entire meat up into pieces or cutting more than one at a time is tacky.
I ate lunch with a guy today that ate continental and I felt like I was in the presence of a mobster.
Last week at Ruth Chris the guy across the table cut his steak up completely before he ate it. He looked like a 4 year old about to eat.
5. Wipe your mouth before taking a sip of your drink. It’s unsightly to see food particles or grease on the rim of your glass. Also, it’s considered rude to take a sip of your drink with your mouth full. Plus, backwash is gross!
Yep. I can’t stand to see a greasy rimmed wine glass.
6. When leaving the table during the course of your meal, put your napkin on your chair, not the table. No one wants to see your stained napkin. And at the completion of the meal, place it on the left of your plate, or if your plate has been cleared, in the center.
Yes again. I usually hang mine on the arm of the chair to let the waiter know I’ll be back.
7. When in a situation where you have to pass food or condiments to others at the table, pass it to your right, or counter clockwise. Never do a “boarding house reach” across the table.
8. When you don’t want to swallow a piece of food in your mouth (e.g. a bone or a piece of fat), move the piece to the front of your mouth and use your fork (or spoon if that’s what you were using) to retrieve it from your mouth and into the side of your plate. The only time its okay to use your fingers is when it’s a fish bone.
I hate it when this happens to me. It’s all I can do not to hurl it out flying if it didn’t pass the swallow test. I prefer to cover up or camouflage chewed food and would appreciate you doing the same.
9. To get the waiter’s attention, the most polite way is to make eye contact. However chances are they are busy and/or are ignoring you. It’s acceptable to raise your hand to head level, just don’t go overboard by raising it way above your head and wave it about.
A good waiter is worth every dollar you tip. My FIL will flail his arms and yell, “Oh Miss…Miss!” to get their attention.
10. When you’re done with your meal, the proper placement of the silverware is to lay them parallel to each other and across the plate with the handles facing the right. To clarify, the ends would be facing 10 o’clock and four. Note: Not all waiters will know this and they still may ask you if it’s okay to clear your plate. At least you appear classy.
I know this but didn’t know about the 10 and 4 thing. Most waiters don’t know this signal.
Gigi woke me up laughing at her own funny thoughts. I guess this is healthy.
We started talking about whether I went to kindergarten or not.
“No I did not go to formal kindergarten. I went to some place where you finger painted and developed social skills for a few months”, I said.
I remember watching John Glen lift off for a three orbit ride on a Mercury spacecraft. My dad then took me to kindergarten and told me John Glenn would land by the time I got home at lunch.
Gigi asked, “Did you used to eat the glue?”
“It was paste Gigi, and yes I ate it. Everyone ate paste.”
At art time everyone got a torn piece of paper and they would come by with a big jug of thick paste. With a broken yard stick the teacher would dig out a dollop of paste and plop it on your piece of paper and told you not to eat it.
Everyone would sneak a lick of paste, the stuff tasted minty. It’s like everyone sniffed fresh mimeograph paper back then. It's what you did as a kid; eat paste and sniff chemicals on paper.
I tailgated yesterday with an old school friend from
His name is Bash, short for Sebastian. Imagine two little boys in the first grade with names like Sebastian and Reginald.
I asked him if Mrs. Witherspoon ever whipped has ass and he confirmed he got a butt whooping from time to time. I got spanked once for being a smartass.
In the second grade Bash got his mouth washed out with soap from the ever lovely Miss Pearson. She would take a bar of soap and a toothbrush and scrub out your mouth in the classroom bathroom. We would all sit in silence listening for any signs of struggling or crying.
I remember Bash took it like a man although his face was very red when he came out of the bathroom.
Yesterday Bash was drinking some kind of beer that looked like used motor oil. I guess that soap dulled his senses.
A couple of things to point out here in this bottom picture; John (Tree as he is known) does not have on pajamas. Those are the official NFL team patches sewed onto his fleece lined jeans of all teams except
The lid on my grill is seared in brat and burger grease from just this season.
That box of crackers to the left is some new cracker that claims to be a cracker on one side and a pretzel on the other. Don’t bother they are nasty.
I have a long day ahead of me. The Carolina Panthers play the Detroit Lions at 1:00 PM but like all good NFL fans I am preparing food at 5:30 AM.
So we eat the same tailgate food each week. I slow cook Johnsonville Brats (original only) until they are caramelized. I serve the brats with cooked sliced onions that have been cooked in foil with salt, pepper, butter and garlic. Sorry, no sour kraut in
Before hand I peel and marinade NC shrimp to be grilled before the brats.
We have the same beer in the cooler Michelob Light.
My pal brings deviled eggs, bubba burgers and brownies.
We wear the same jerseys (never washed) and leave the tailgate area at the same time to arrive at the introductions.
I have one friend that wears the same shorts and shirt but now it’s 35 degrees. God bless him he doesn’t want to be the cause of the loss.
Today I am taking Cruzan Rum in addition to the beer. It’s cold and
I hope I’m not screwing things up by taking the rum.
I heard on the radio yesterday that any sign of love handles and muffin tops put you at an increased risk of heart disease no matter how thin you are.
No worries, I have a solution.
Simply lift your hands to the sky and this will reduce your fat rolls immediately by stretching them out.
You will live long and prosper as long as your arms are high in the air.
No need to thank me.
No need to thank me.
I was filling up with diesel this morning and a big sign on the pump said, “Pay before pumping”. I bet they use the same sign in a brothel too.
My favorite Reggae station on terrestrial radio has changed. It’s now more “easy listening” reggae. I want my angry young black man reggae back. I called them in
I get angry when my phone beeps that I have a voicemail and the damn thing never rang in the first place.
It is a cold drizzly foggy morning here in NC. I was sleeping my ass off with the knowledge it was Saturday and I could lie here all day if I wanted too.
“Honey get up. It’s Friday”, Gigi said.
“Nope, it’s an Evelyn Wilson day.”
“Sorry honey it’s Friday’.
And so it was. I got up and wandered toward the hall stepping over mounds of sleeping dogs to flip on the hall light. POP!
The damn hall light bulb blew. That light bulb has been working for 20 years. No kidding it has not been changed for as long as we have lived here.
I was particularly excited to make coffee this morning because I couldn’t have any yesterday. Wednesday afternoon I did like a lot of folks are doing and had my teeth whitened.
As I was leaving they said, “Now Mr. Wreggie, you cannot have red wine, coffee or beets for the next 24 hours or you risk staining your teeth”.
I felt certain that I could avoid the beets but the other two were some of my favorite things.
I ended up getting a Diet Sun Drop yesterday to give me the needed caffeine.
Well, I guess it really is Friday. I better get to work.
Me and my GPS haven’t been getting along. The honeymoon may be over.
At first it was Gigi that was yelling at the female voice on my GPS, “Shit up bitch!” she said.
You know how it can be when you get two bossy head strong women in the same room.
I changed the voice to a male and Gigi was happy.
Then I started using my own routes to places I go frequently instead of the routes my GPS suggested. My GPS would warm me to “TURN RIGHT NOW!” I would refuse and go my own way. Under his breath I could hear……”recalculating” in a disgusted sounding computer voice.
Tuesday the GPS had its chance to get back and it did. I was in downtown
The command was too sudden for me to react and suddenly I was on the inner belt freeway zooming from my destination.
The GPS took a big long satisfying breathe and said,”Recalculating”. After all he had successfully thrown me off course by about 2 miles until I could turn around at the next exit.
I’ll listen better next time Mr. GPS. I promise.
I have this annoying cow lick that is getting worse with age. Saturday I woke up and I swear I looked like a cardinal. Today I have this Gumby thing going on.
I am very grateful to have hair on my head and apparently my hair is proud too.
Why is it that women smokers have skinny legs? You can spot a longtime female smoker by her legs alone. This is much like me cracking the elbow code when ageing women.
I googled one of my dogs, “Haley Hunnicutt” and found that there is a young woman in
Now when she google's her name this discussion of my dog will show up and she can have a laugh.
This is what I do when I am bored.
I was riding home yesterday and was thinking about our new President when it dawned on me. Holy crap!
The President of the
It is now my generation at the helm.
What got me to thinking about all this and generations was that I lost one of the few family survivors of the Bob Hope, WWII generation on Friday. It was my dear aunt Clarice. She was a sweet, kind woman around 90 years of age that had spent the last 10 years in a nursing home.
She had to have the patience of Job to put up with my uncle Fab who died many years earlier.
She loved dogs. Gigi and I visited her once with our dog Galaxy. She would recognize me and say, “Wreggie Jr. it’s you! Look, what a beautiful dog, how did you get her in here?”
The funeral was Sunday afternoon and it was a graveside affair. I felt sort of like a character in the Sopranos standing around all dressed up among the old tombstones. I stood by the big HUNNICUTT stone.
I hear there is room here for two more graves here…seriously they overbought space here in the 1940’s.
A Russian woman sang hymns. I asked my brother in law later if he recognized the accent and he thought she was Italian because he spotted a faint mustache in the bright fall light. I swear she was Russian.
The funeral was over at 2:38 PM so I set the GPS to get me back ASAP. There was a Carolina/Oakland game at set for a 4:05 PM kickoff. Life is for the living you know.
The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating peanuts by the peck;
His father called, he would not go
Because he loved those peanuts so.
Poem told by Wreggie Sr. to Wreggie Jr.
I am able now to make long hauls by land and not go completely nuts. Credit my satellite radio and satellite based GPS.
I drove 700 miles in the last 24 hours and was head banging on some vintage rock, juking with reggae, all the while monitoring trip speed, estimated time of arrival, summonsing up nearby diesel stops and chatting on the phone with my bride.
I have found myself speeding a bit with this new Garmin device. You see it monitors current speed more accurately that my speedometer. So I figure, “Will I get busted going 7 MPH over the limit of 70?” I set the cruise to 77 and cruise on.
Now you may be asking, “Why dear Wreggie would you be burning our fossil fuels at such an alarming rate?”
Anyway to the point; I had venture down to
It seemed that the actual blood related members of the family were in denial that this had to be done to move on in life.
I got down in south Georgia around 6 PM and visited with Peach Pod and Peach Pit and broke bread with them on a lovely cob salad and seasonal pumpkin ale. The stayed over with my brother-in-law and his lovely significant other.
Then early Saturday morning I headed to the inner sanctum of what has been Larry’s apartment for the last 10 years.
There was dental floss draped over the handle bars of his stationary bike stationed squarely in front of the TV along with a half drunk bottle of water. Papers and books were stacked everywhere. It is a custom of this family to buy and collect books but never actually read them.
I started in the bathroom with a big trash bag and began tossing empty pill bottles, used toiletries and quickly moved into the bedroom. I then took a stab at the living area and moved to the kitchen. By the time the BIL showed up I had the floor covered in bags ready to go to the garbage.
What seemed cut and dry now slowed to a crawl while the BIL filtered each bag searching for items in his opinion had some value. “You can’t just throw these cassette tapes away. Someone will buy them”, he said. I just rolled my eyes and smiled at his lovely significant other.
We knew that it was a process that he has to deal with; his father is old and can’t live by himself any more.
Oh and by the way. One is always cautious when opening drawers of a single fellow’s apartment. The only thing strange I found was a collection of chicken bones in the door compartment of the freezer all wrapped in paper towels.
When I got home I asked Larry about the chicken bones. At first he couldn’t remember then he offered the answer. It seems he stored the bones in the freezer since tossing them in the garbage would initiate a trip to the dumpster. He would toss the bones in the garbage when he was ready to take the garbage out.
A friend from St. Croix called Gigi and me early this morning outraged that we had elected Obama as President, like it was solely my fault.
It is a damn shame that you can't vote for President of the United States if you live in the US Virgin Islands.
Oh well….on to things you expect on this blog, Jeeps stuff and dog shit stories.
We are really enjoying the time change and drizzle of the past few days. Nothing like leaving the house in the dark in a cold drizzle with tannic acid leaching leaves stuck all over my Jeep and then returning home in a dark drizzle.
This weather makes me want to put on some fuzzy socks and light a fire after I have poured some gasoline over my head.
My pal Ty is handy with wood and has offered to build me a chicken tractor in exchange for fresh eggs.
A chicken tractor is a movable chicken coop/yard that protects and contains chicken and allows you to move it daily to give the chickens fresh ground and grass, bugs and such.
I plan on having 6 hens and one rooster in this tractor. Once it is built I’ll look for some chickens on Craigslist to get me going. I don’t want to bother with chicks right now.
I have read all I can about chickens and have even consulted my massage therapist pal and fellow blogger Kuckie. She is a chicken chick herself.
Have you ever noticed in a tank of goldfish when one of them dies the others just pick away at the body…eyeballs first?
And so it is that I am floating on top of the blogger tank this morning trying to sort out a new template for my blog after migrating the URL to www.weggie.com or simply wreggie.com should work too.
But what happed yesterday was that my site was down (I pick Sunday because it is a slow traffic day) most of the day and when it came back up many of the elements were missing.
So I reverted back to the old template and here I am again in worse shape than I was except the URL works.
So I announce a contest! Please submit to me a desired blogger template that has my theme and is compatible with blogger and you shall win the contest along with some neat prizes. This contest is open to the world and void where prohibited.
Micky T put it so eloquently to me the other day about my blog. It is about, “St. Croix vacations, red jeeps, fun little boats with motors, camping with dogs, dog shit, are all things I have come to associate with this blog.”
Really neat prizes ya’ll plus the knowledge and comfort knowing you help a fellow blogger.
The time limit will be held to the first five submitted. You can simply point me to a desired to the url of the design template that qualifies or design one yourself. It must be in a downloadable xml format to import to blogger.
Wow, what a difference a week makes. I am back in my usual good mood except for having very sore arm and chest muscles.
I have continued my “strenuous for Wreggie” workouts which include upper body stuff.
I have had fun fiddling with my GPS but did run into trouble when my maps wouldn’t load. I ended up calling tech support and he was most helpful getting my GPS back on track. In order to expedite the repair he logged on my computer remotely and started fixing the GPS from
I only tell you this because of what happed next. The man was African American and when he was looking for files he inadvertently opened a file containing this picture I had of Buckwheat. I was mortified and didn’t say a word. He just closed the file.
I have been trying to load points of interest in
And finally the horses; we are supposed to send them off today for a month of training to make them so we can actually ride them. Up to now they were just pasture ornaments that consumed resources. Soon I will be able to break my neck on one. I care nothing about riding a horse and am even frightened of the damn things. But, I promised Gigi I would ride with her from time to time.