You never run into anyone named Gladys anymore. Can’t say that I have run across many Mabels as of late either. This may or may not have some deeper meaning.
After a couple of months of figuratively beating my head against a wall, I finally found a company that will install a carport for my old-age crisis car that I really should not have bought, but what the fuck. Cocoa Black will enjoy getting tickets in it after I kick the bucket.
I made the drive up to the mountains to spend some time with Uncle David. We went out to his local range each day I was there and played with many different pew-pews. In fact, we had so much fun he has invited me back. As I am headed to Nashville in late September to see King Crimson (again), current plans are to stop in and spend a day or three at Casa David on the way home. Decisions… take the M1A or the SIG 716? Both? Maybe the SIG M400?
It’s hot as the hinges of hell around here, but as I stare at the calendar, I observe that it appears to be August, and I seem to recall something about it still being summer, so maybe that explains the heat. I’m fixing to make it a bit hotter. The tree guy finally came by a couple of weeks ago and took down the limb shedding monster pines that were looming over my house like malevolent eldritch sentinels from times long ago. I have acquired a 55 gallon drum and am going to try the burnination trick on the stumps to ease the cutting of my lawn by my faithful yard man.
That’s all I got for right now. Boredom is good.