Eric’s Sunday Sermon; “A Land of Junk Mail and Checkout Lines”
Hiking and More
Maybe Not So Serious
Now it is a normal notion to hate junk mail. Crazy as I am I delight in it. I even open up my wife’s and read it. Selling something by real mail is an art. Oh of course if you look at it with distain you do not even open and we hope you put it properly to be recycled. Actually it is good in a compost deal.
We should thank our mail counselors and deliverers for carrying such weight. I do and she knows there is always a bottle of water next to my mail slot. I left a small bottle of wine once and it was gone. I hope it was not too much weight to carry.
Love is a mystical cavalcade. It just flows. I think of creeks and rivers and streams. When it rains or snows real hard they get huge with runoff. They over flow. Could it be that in stormy weather we can do the same. Now do not get me wrong here. Snuggling under my covers and drifting away thinking of riches and prosperity is a great thing to do in stormy weather.
Now for sure that is self indulgence, especially if you are like me and have warm drink at that time and I even like to put on my most comfy sweater. I don’t think that ranks up there with sinful, but close hihihihi.
Today clouds broke up a bit and I scurried outside for the fresh sun and it was a calvados of love on my face. I don’t do so well at not soaking up pleasures. I am kind of like a “if it feels good, do it” dude. (booze, drugs and dalliances don’t really feel good on the bottom line – not that I would know ;-)
Love loves me for absolutely no good reason. Or as my son and I say “no good reasoning”. We just do not “work” at rain or love around here. Both just fall as they please and we got absolutely nothing to say about it. Now do not think too hard on that please. We build roofs to keep us dry and we build barriers to hold off the love. Good on us. What the heck would it be like if I fell in love with a woman other than my wife? Yuck, yuck and yuck.
How Can It Be Otherwise?
No More Pay Phones, Newspapers and Only a Couple of Ice Cream Joints, There is a Mailbox Down There Too. I use It.
So we get junk mail, a lady flirting, a football game on TV. A commercial or a billboard somewhere. That babe selling beer is fine as can be. Porno and dating sites I hear kick some you know what. I for sure need a new car? I just do not do that stuff and it is not for some holier than stuff. Somewhere at some time I fell from that tree. If you think that being “disconnected” is easy, come try it with me and get a broken nose like me. You can actually get to a place of no Azure and no rouge. (I think they say right and left and blue and red, those are just bad descriptions of colors, how lazy “right? And Left” those are my hands)
I have a town. Isn’t that cool? And yet it is wrong, I live in something less substantial than of a village. We insist on obedience to rules. But nobody enforces them and we really do not care. Set up a meth lab here and you would wish the cops would respond because our justice is a bit more harsh. It is just what dads do. We have children here.
I cannot believe that my two door down neighbor had me under an engine bolting stuff up just for 30 grapefruit. I did great. And his wife sent out some awesome Carnitas burritos. He has the coolest tools. 25 years ago he was an illegal immigrant. His granddaughter knows my son from school. I don’t get the rancor of the day when the day is so wonderful. That neighbor and the one in between have no time for news. I ban it from my home. We ain’t missing nothing. We look stuff up and not eat at a buffet. I really do not want someone else feeding me what they want. (OK except my wife with her awesome soups and such, oh baby)
The check out line at Smart and Final took over 40 minutes today. A long line that lasted about 15 minutes. Well I let folks go first because the line is so full of great and sometimes tawdry stuff. Now if you get angry instead of joyful at a check-out line I have a great shrink for you to see. I don’t figure a good book is better than a bad check-out line. I will give that more thought. Reading faces is better than reading words I think. But no quotes on that please.
Just Another Mountain to Climb
Dance or Get Out of The Way - Break of Dawn Comes Too Early
Oops a Little Delay
Opera. You probably stink at singing it. So sing it to yourself. Thirty on years sense I heard an ugly word from my mouth. Maybe I just have not paid attention. I can do contralto. But my love is not B3 or G6 it is more in the Baritone range. When I turned a certain age my voice changed. So I worked like hell to get back to a contralto. We call that stuff, Tessatura. A comfort range. The idea here is that a big old white fat guy with enough muscle to toss 85 pounds of child around can still sing like a girl. Hold the boy in one arm and sing some high notes and it don’t get no better. Now remember the punk is squirming. But the boy cannot be released until he hits a B3. Life is tough around here. Dierkers don’t do less than tough and sometimes tough is singing the high notes.
Hey a big hand out to one teacher of me Audrey Hunt. I think she goes by vocal coach. Like Bill does writing and Linda does food. All must be a passion and these folks are the best. God gave me no concentration skills, yet he let me pass legal bars in 3 jurisdictions. Cooking and writing and vocal stuff still elude me.
My fine lady. Oh not my wife. Some guilty there. She is my mailman. Cuter than a ladybug. About 5 foot and a pound or two overweight. A giggle to bend your knees. She swore she had a million dollar check for me but I would have to meet her up in Tijuana to cash out. She knows I got a hankering for quick cash and love. Some fresh made orange juice and she was off to beguile another man. She just left me hanging out to dry. Sometimes dreams are better than reality. My junk mail.
Just Try The Tango!
Take Time to Dance
Sorry for the delay I put on my leather shoes and tossed salt on the kitchen floor and danced with my broom. She is beautiful. In the tango she never falters, though I may. Please don't tell my wife about the salt or my love of my broom.