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Odds and Ends No. 25

Different day, different hat, same trail.
Like I said, I do feel better about wearing
my old black cap.

She just got home. So, I get to make a
pizza and salad which is our usual Friday
night fare. But we missed that window,

and I promised I’d be in by 17:30. I can’t
finish this post in seven minutes. Well,
anyway, the walk was good. I tried to

take shots of these alien bugs. Their
bodies stay vertical below their wings
as they hover or fly from bush to bush.

I snapped a few shots but their little ugly
vampire heads were nowhere to be seen
in my photos. (Got to go and cook. More

later.) Sorry, later is later than I thought.
As it turned out I found out why it felt
like I was walking barefoot on trails.

The soles of my Meindl boots were done
for, so we decided to have an outing to
Cabela’s to get me new hiking boots early

for my birthday. Then stop for lunch. We
didn’t have to go far. From the parking lot
we saw a familiar shaped out lot. Once in

a blue moon you stop at Cracker Barrel.
Blue moon day is here. She had trout with
turnip greens on the side and added

enough extra vinegar to fuel my car.
“Want a taste?” No thanks is what I said;
Not in this lifetime was what I was

thinking. Vinegar and corn muffins made
her day. I could tell I was sitting across
from an Indiana farm girl in heaven.

Corned beef and cabbage for me. I tried
out the new boots after we got home. This
selfie phase I’m going through is coming

to an end shortly. One more. The new
birthday boots after my walk. I’ve put off
calling Medicare for weeks! Maybe today.

Almost time to walk Thunderbird today.
Wondering about “Eat Right 4 Your Type”
again having read it about ten years ago,

is it valid or bologna? Things like that
make me a little crazy, so not sure if I
want to try it again. End of selfies, I hope.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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