by irene bean

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A Solid Foundation



Not Trying to be Corny

This Little Light of Mine

We Were Once Young

Veni, Vedi, Vinca

U Tube Has a New Star

Packing a 3-Iron

Getting Personal

Welcome Again

Well... Come on in

Christmas Shopping

There's no Substitute

Dressed for Success

Cancun Can-Can

Holy Guacamole

Life can be Crazy

The New Dog

Hurricane Reenie

He Delivers

No Spilt Milk

Naked Fingers


Have Ya Heard the One About?

The Great Caper


Barney's P***S

My New Security System

Not Trying to be Corny

Not only am I a sissy and a brat and lazy and selfish... I don't care, kinda-sorta.

Several months ago a well-meaning neighbor gave me a huge half-sack of corn to feed the deer. I stored it in my garage. He also plopped an open bucket with feed in my garage. There are manymanymany reasons why the corn didn't get beyond my garage: I don't feed birds in the wild either, my arthritis and advanced years make maneuvering difficult at times, the ethics challenged me because I knew I would not perpetuate the feeding and that would be cruel to the deer who might develop expectatio... and then there are all the reasons I've already mentioned up top. I'm a sorry excuse for humanity.

Well, the universe has gotten even. Last night as I walked to my car in the garage, I heard a rustle in the sack of corn. Upon closer inspection I noticed a torn hole. By my estimation, a ten pound field mouse is having a field day in my garage in the sack of corn that was intended for the deer. Upon even closer inspection I noticed little black bugs crawling on the outside of the sack - GOD only knows what's going on INSIDE the sack. Trust me I am not proud of this - I am truly humbled by my thoughtlessness.

Anyway, I am such a sissy. I thought I could put on some heavy duty gloves and lug the sack onto the bed of my truck and dispose of the offensive mess. But not only am I a sissy, I realized I don't have the brawn and back. Steve, my beloved handyman is coming to the rescue this afternoon. To make the trip really worth his while, I have an unexpected bonus for him. Last night the mountain was bludgeoned with storms. I am full of gratitude that tornadoes don't like to climb mountains, but the winds whipped through my trees with great force and speed and snapped in half one of the largest trees on my property. *sniffle* So Steve is going to cut that up when he does mouse/corn patrol/control. His father, a true and hardy mountain man, heats his cabin solely with firewood. Perhaps therein lies a sliver of redemption for my slovenly ways.

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