Happy Birthday (winkwink)

Some people turn 33 when they are really like 50ish.  And some people, like me, are always a day late and a dollar short.  Well, not really, but I AM late wishing Teller a Happy Birthday.  As I have explained before, my Teller is not the same as the magician Teller.

Anyway, Happy Belated Birthday, Teller!

I Got Me a Sunhat

Actually, Teller gave it to me and it's been sitting here holding crow feathers since I got it.  Today, I will actually get to use it.  We're starving for sunshine this year.

The True and Fairly Boring Story Behind the Thursday Trophy Pictures

A simple incident with a bizarre cast of characters:  First, I accidentally locked the keys in Teller's car when we went out to get smokes.  Almost immediately, a volunteer fireman came out of the beverage center and called the non-emergency police number for us.  Cool.  But Teller, realizing that it was getting near rush hour, decided to try for faster help.  

First, she went into the store and asked for a coat hanger.  That guy didn't have one but directed her to the warehouse.  That's when the guy in the top photo comes in.  First Guy tried his level best to jimmy the lock and almost got it (while flirting with Teller).  Then the guy in the second photo came out of the store.  He seemed on friendly terms with First Guy and asked if he could take a turn trying.  

Second Guy was from the UK, the result, he said, of  "misspent youth".  After about 20 minutes of this, the local police showed up and made quick work of it but not before Second Guy begged the cop for "just 30 more seconds... I'm so close!" (with a British accent, of course).  The guy coming out of the store in the third pic wasn't involved, just nosy.  Ditto a Kurt Vonnegut look-alike who was watching from his pick up truck the whole time and offering silly commentary.  I get the feeling not a lot of action happens in their town.

The story ends with a photo of Teller hugging the cop which I won't publish here due to privacy concerns.  I mean, she's already practically a rock star as far as I'm concerned.  

The End.

Home again, Finnegan

I was too busy unpacking and whatnotting yesterday to post when I got home.  For instance, it was very necessary to tour the garden while I waited for my mister to come home from work.  It was rainy and damp enough to justify chicken soup for dinner.   And of course Monster needed hugging.  Barney just needed food.  He does not do hugs. You know.  Whatnots.  

Anyway, this is the sign my lovely friend* had in the screen house part of the camper.  I sat facing it.  A lot.  I liked it so much that one night I copied it into my notebook over and over, Bart Simpson style.  Hopefully it'll keep the Angry Gardener in check, eh?

*All of my friends are lovely so I have decided to give them pseudonyms here so as to avoid confusion.  Camping friend shall henceforth be known as Teller, but not like Teller from Penn and Teller.  In fact, very unlike that Teller.  He never talks.  My Teller always talks.  She is a truth teller and a story teller.  Even the stories are true.