Odds, more odds and a few ends...

Just a few scattered thoughts.
Here's an update on my, soon to be acquired, fortune. Saturday evening I received another call from my friends down in Jamaica. He inquired if I had received the package containing my two point five million dollars. A package, accompanied by two US Marshals to insure safe delivery. I told him that it hadn't arrived because if if had he would be talking to me in Hawaii. He was visually shaken (not stirred) and expressed his concern about the nondelivery. I agreed that I too was really worried about the situation. We exchanged, "oh nos" and "oh my Gods". I asked, "what can we do about this?" He assured me that he would personally look into this mishap and would personally instruct me in the procedures necessary for a smooth, safe transfer of my two point five million which, incidentally, would be delivered by UPS. Then for some reason he asked if I knew what UPS was. I quickly replied that I definitely did know that UPS stood for the "Under Pants Society". He agreed. At this point, I needed to get back to the Cubs' game so I told him to take care of things, send me the money and I would sponsor him for membership in UPS. Next call I'm planning on playing it straight and let him (or his cousin) explain the entire routine for me. It should be interesting to hear his response if I offer to save him UPS charges by flying down there to pick up my money in person.

This weekend I took part in an interesting experiment. I attended a birthday party for a toddler that didn't involve clowns, elephant rides, face painting or a Beatles reunion band. What an interesting concept, a couple of balloons, ice cream and cake. I'm sure, that with some therapy and the proper medication, the kid will survive being deprived the expected birthday extravaganza and not be inclined to run away with the circus.

I'm not sure if this is a sign of Fall approaching but, this morning Jo called to tell me that an eagle had just buzzed her car on the way to work. Although they hang around all year, you see quite a few less during the Summer months. It was kinda like seeing the first Robin.

Speaking of spotting birds, a week or so ago, on our way to Derek and Jeanna's new home, we spotted fifty or more Sandhill cranes feasting on something in a field. These birds have become more and more abundant. As a matter of fact, I recently read an article in a Minnesota newspaper that they were planning a hunting season for them and that they were extremely delicious to eat. I think I'll wait on trying some, but if any of you have or will try Sandhill steaks, let me know how they are. (Hold out for steaks or breasts. I don't think the legs are worth the trouble)

I normally write a lot about things that I encounter while driving around. This experience was quite a bit different from the usual scenic view or wildlife. We had driven about a block after bringing my Mother-In-Law to see Derek and Jeanna's new home. JoAnne looked back to ask her mom something only to find her unresponsive (out cold). I stopped the car and called 911 as Jo successfully revived her. The police and EMTs did their thing and reluctantly allowed us to be on our way. On arriving back in Dodgeville it was decided that a trip to the local hospital would ease everyone's concern. Between Jo, her Mom and I, we have a frequent flyer rating at Upland Hills Hospital. Jo's mom is doing just fine back at Crestridge.

One last thing. On the way home from Mineral Point Saturday afternoon I experienced another "first time ever" sight. I have a number of explanations for this image. Pick one.

What's this? Could it be my package from Jamaica?

Oh! It's just a Wisconsin "Porta-Potty".

Too much "Two" party.

Grandpa Blume shows Eddie proper patio fishing techniques
while daddy and grandpa Nimz chase Moby Dick in the wilds of Minnesota.

Nothing to say. Just a nice pic.

Easy Come...Easy Go!

For the third or fourth time in less than a month I have turned down millions of dollars. Just this afternoon, as I was not enjoying still another Cub loss, my displeasure was interrupted by a phone call from Kingston Jamaica. A voice in very broken English greeted me by name, Mr. Ronald Blume (with the accent on the "E"). He proceeded to inform me that while searching through some records his firm had discovered that I was owed two point five million dollars plus ten thousand dollars for something I couldn't understand. All I needed to do was verify my address and some other minor information and the bucks would start rolling in. The easy way would be for me to have them deposit it directly into my checking account. At the time I was distracted by the ball game where the Cubs were about to set a new record for striking out on wild pitches. I told the guy that I really didn't have time for him right now and two point five million was hardly worth the trouble and as long as he had my phone number he could probably dig up my address and just mail me a check. He insisted that this was a chance of a lifetime and I may never have an opportunity like this again. I replied that only two or three weeks ago one of his colleagues offered me a similar deal which I also turned down. I explained to him that such a large amount of money would put me in a higher tax bracket and create an awful lot of extra paperwork, besides I had just driven a trunk full of pop cans over to Michigan and collected the deposit for some big bucks. In my best broken Jamaican I suggested that he could have the money and maybe take his wife and family out for a nice dinner, I understood that the jerk chicken and escoveitch fish were real good this time of year. I told him that I had to hang up because three Cub runners were caught in a rundown between home and first base. (That only occurred twice before in this season) I thanked him for his time and concern for my well being. In closing told him to call back anytime he came across a more worthwhile amount. Not wanting to be a complete idiot, I gave him the names of all my Facebook "friends" and suggested he split up the money between them. So, when you get your cash, I'm free for lunch!

The Fennimore Riviera?

Early last Sunday our area was hit with some powerful thunder storms that dropped between three and four inches of rain in less than an hour. After church Jo and I set out to do a little grocery shopping at our local Piggly Wiggly about ten miles down the road. As usual we were on the lookout for wildlife and other interesting sights along the way. The wildlife we spotted was in a small pasture set back a little off the road. A quick uturn (my specialty) and we were back to a vantage point to watch the action. The wildlife was of the two legged variety. A group of young (I think Mennonite) kids were frolicking in a flooded portion of their pasture. There was no fancy pool or sandy beach, an old stool served as a diving board, a flower pot and an old hat became water toys. Fortunately I had my backup camera in the glove compartment and managed to shoot a photo or two of the fun. Unfortunately as soon as the kids noticed us (and the camera) they started mugging and the spontaneity was lost. Even so, the splashing and laughter was still there and reminded me so much of steamy days back in the city where an open fire hydrant provided relief from the summer heat. It just goes to show that fun is where and when you find it. By the time we were returning from our shopping, the the pond, and the kids, were gone. The water had soaked into the ground and drained off into a nearby creek. The grasses of the pasture received a dose of nutrients, the creek had some fresh water for it's inhabitants (probably some happy Trout), the kids were toweling off and hanging their wet duds on the clothes line and Jo and I stored away one more memory of the wonders that occur around us every day.

I think the pictures speak for themselves.

Does Anybody Really Know What time It Is???

Does anybody really care? Not me. I could care less what time it really is. As a matter of fact, I've quit keeping track of time. No more deadlines, no more trains (or buses) to catch, no need to worry about rush hour traffic jams. (From now on it's strictly strawberry or raspberry jams.) I've got plenty of time on my hands, have had the time of my life, finished in no time, and got me to the church on time. Mildly put, "I laugh at time". I don't care about a two minute egg, a four minute mile or a New York second. I've been told time and time again and had "No Time for Sergeants ". There's no this time, that time, some time, next time or even any time. I've worked overtime to get paid time and a half. I've wasted time waiting for tee times at the course and, when my time is up, I'll be the first to find time for the last time. That's it. I'm out of time. Gotta go, it's just about supper time!

Like I always say, "there's no time like the present".