Good Sunday to you all. Workin' on a cuppajoe, feeling peckish. I could almost parrot most of what you have said the last few days, lr, except for the rain part; instead, we have temps in the one-tens daytimes, last night, it was still over one hundred at midnight.
I knew a couple of different donkeys a while ago. One was a smallish critter, about the size of a Great Dane, was the watch donkey for a lodge in the High Sierras, a place called Convict Lake. He would spend most of his days sitting on the porch steps like a dog, with his hind end on one tread, and his fore feet on a lower one, and occasionally taking a tour of the place; if anyone came around, he would set up a heck of a racket, and run to greet them, lookin' for a handout. He had a taste for tobacco - it seems that more than just him is that way - and I found out about it when he stole a pack of Camel no-filters from my shirt pocket; he would be sorely disappointed these days, since I quit smoking in '83. On our honeymoon, I stopped off there to see if they had a cabin for a day or two, and he came running, and stuck his head in my window, so I told my Bride: "Watch this", and slipped him a cig, told her she could give him one, too, but she'd have to tear the filter off of one of hers. She thought that was funny. She didn't want to get out of the car, so I went into the lodge to see what was what, and when I came back out, that jack had his head in the passenger window of the car, his tail was going a hundred miles an hour, and Mrs. Rr was clear over on the drivers side tearing filters off of her Winstons and feeding the tobacky parts to him as fast as she could. I hauled him out of my new Pontiac and chased him up onto the porch, but I almost hurt from laughing - She was not quite as amused. And, there was almost a whole pack of Winston filters without the smoke stuff attached in the floor of the car.
That's my war story for the week, I suppose.
Our fourteen year old granddaughter, Bella, came to visit her computer for a week - she doesn't have one at home with her mom, but the one she had at her dad's place got moved here when they went back on the road full time, so when she comes to visit, it is more like she is visiting the computer than us. She just left, and I don't think she said fifty words to me in the week she was here. I tried to put limits on her the last time she came, but that just resulted in a moody kid who hid in her bedroom instead of the computer room. Teenagers! Bah. Well, now life can get back to it's normal hum-drum.
Gonna go see what I can rustle up to chew on.
Later.