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Sunday, Mar. 06, 2005
I had a crap day on Thursday, a better one on Friday, and a good one yesterday.

This morning I woke up and dressed, half consciously, as if for work. Then I found out it was Sunday. So this one is already a keeper.

Took the Eldest to breakfast yesterday, with the proviso that we go someplace cheap. IHOP got a no, and so did the local place that’s been around forever. She voted for Shoney’s and the breakfast buffet.

$20.51 later, we both allowed that Shoney’s for father/daughter breakfasts is heretofore banned, belayed and broke. Much like me, who actually paid the tab.

Besides, the grits were cold right out of the pan. And that’s just wrong.

A good friend of ours turned 50 yesterday and his way cool spouse invited us down th’ country for a party with a few close pals. So we hit the road to Carolina and their brick shack out in the woods.

(This is a local thing, but nothing sounds better than saying “I’m just goin’ down to Carolina for a while“. It is understood that you are referring both to the North of the Carolinas, and also that you’re abandoning this metropolis for a little bit of fresh air. On the flip side, saying “I just got back from Carolina” is always a relaxed, small grin thing that speaks of barbeque and soft speech and scrub trees. And fishing. I like Carolina.)

The 50th birthday was a surprise, if you understand that my old pal was on his way home from work and there were 60 close friends at his house and he hadn’t been told anything about it. Although I strongly suspect he got a clue about it pretty quick when he saw 30 cars parked in his yard.

If not, the fact that all of us were standing in his garage, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ while the garage door rolled up slowly probably did the trick.

He isn’t big on being the center of attention and neither am I. Ally got a sideways glance from me about halfway through the song and I told her “Don’t ever do this to me, okay? That poor man.” Although I just have to wonder, do I even have 60 close friends?

I’m a vertical sort of fellow. I make few friends but the relationship goes deep. Ally could fit a party of my friends around a small bonfire but she’d have to guarantee oysters and beer, too.

We have a local version of property taxing that’s based on an assessment. I’m sure you home owners out there have something similar. Way in the back of your local municipal center is a little room staffed with small men with very white skin and large black eyes who are in charge of this sort of thing.

About once a year they spit out an assessment that puts a value on your real estate. I have no idea how they do such a thing, and they don’t either. Folks who live close to me say that their new assessment went up very little (and rest assured, it always goes up).

Mine went up by 30 grand.

So I’m due for a honker tax hike. But the house is worth more, too. It’s ying and yang here. But it’s the wang that I’m looking at. The time grows ever closer to wang this big house on to the next growing family, let me have my sack of gold and move on to a wee small place (with a big shop and room for two recliners, of course. Also, broadband and a hot tub).

One of the better things I’m getting out of this is an official document with which I can convince my long suffering spouse that this is indeed a worthy idea. Ally is ever the cautious one, whose war cry for years has been “We can’t sell this place! It isn’t worth what you think it is! We wouldn’t make enough off it!”

Heh. Thanks to you, little men with pasty skin, I‘ve got ammo.

I don’t pen too many entry’s that have no theme, but this is one of them. It’s a blessed thing to not have any burning issue on the plate today. And not to create any, of course, but I feel compelled to leave you with a thought in honor of my good pal Chief Mo, who recently moved to an apartment on the water.

It seems that the powers that be forbid fishing from shore at this particular place. It also seems that this is a known fishing lake, which has been proven at random times by the Outfoxed Institute for Nature and Kelp (informally known as OINK), Marine Research Division. OINK members of the board determined that if fishing from shore was taboo, perhaps the Chief might be interested in a little hip wading in pursuit of the bass.

I mean, there’s no sign out there saying “No hip wading, either!” Sign sez, “No Fishing from Shore!” And that’s all it says.

So, I mean really. All we need is a little incentive here.

And beer. Don’t forget the beer.

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