These little scilla were always hidden under the bushes until I trimmed them up last year. Maybe they’ll spread around now. And I’m always grateful when color comes back to the yard, to the world.
In related news, being a cynic doesn’t appeal to me much these days.
Do you ever want to go to Subway and buy a footlong with only peppers and onions and maybe cucumbers and then take that into a public restroom and leave the unwrapped sandwich on the floor and then hang around washing your hands until the next person comes in?
The proof was in the proof all right. We would get someone older to buy the liquor for us, and all we knew was Southern Comfort was 100 proof. Jack was 90 back then, and some Bacardi rum was 151 proof. I don’t have any idea how we knew this info. But there we were, skinny kids who would get drunk on a 6 pack of three two beer and we’d have a special occasion, for IE: Saturday, and we’d get the liquor and drink it with coke. The results were predictable. I remember now that we knew about the Bacardi because of HST’s literature. Don’t try it at home kids.
In the winter we used to drink outside behind some abandoned box cars at the freight yard. When we got cold we’d prop the empty beer cases on the ledge and light ‘em on fire. Coke went directly into the light Bacardi pints. If you were brave you’d get Bacardi dark.
I haven’t been writing as much because I’ve been struggling with my nicotine addiction. All sorts of things happen and don’t happen when I try to quit.
Sometimes I’ll spout off something about quitting on social media or whatever but lately I’ve just been keeping my struggles to myself. Because unless somebody was a daily smoker for over 30 years, they don’t really get it. I know people are trying to help but move along. Sometimes we just need to vent.
Harry Anderson, an actor who starred as the kindhearted, zany Judge Harry Stone on the long-running NBC comedy “Night Court,” was found dead early Monday at his home in Asheville, N.C. He was 65.
The Asheville Police Department, which confirmed the death, did not release a cause but said no foul play was suspected.
Mr. Anderson, who spent nine seasons presiding over a fictional Manhattan courtroom that played host to a steady stream of oddballs, was nominated for three consecutive Emmys, from 1985 to 1987.
Okay, the Night Court marathon seems more timely than ever.
My favorite color!
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