A Blogless Blog

I toasted up a couple of RTGFKAR's homemade muffins before sitting down to write this. What this means is that I now have a dog plunked down beside me staring at my food. I can understand the attraction. The dog is an English breed and these are English muffins. Suuuurre. Tomorrow I'll whip up some Latvian muffins and put that theory to the test.

The dog's sounding out little whiny noises and trying to get me to make eye contact. He knows if I do, I'm a gonner. Now he's placed his head on my knee. His eyes are all shiny and soft.

Here you go Buddy, have a bite.

Hey, what else could I do? He's got those eyes. If I had eyes like that I'd stand in front of bank tellers and make cooing sounds.

It's rainy and windy again this morning. What's the deal with that? A friend of ours told us last night that she had heard from a reliable Panamanian souse, I mean source, that this was the rainiest rainy season in eighteen years. Hope it's not a trend; part of global climate change and all that. I mean if it only happens every eighteen years, I can live with it. I'll be eighty-three when the next wet one comes around, if my math is right, and probably still bitchin about the lack of golf in my life. I mean some things never change.

Gus is now barking insanely at the front door. There's a woman and a little girl out there. Gus thinks kids are other dogs or toys or something to be played with. Kids think Gus is a tiger. Takes them awhile to get used to each other. The woman has been sent here by our landlady to clean the grout around our tiles. The grout is still gritty from the flood. School is out so the kid is tagging along with mom.

And now, having let them in and calmed the dog and put cartoons on the TV my train of thought has leaped from the track. No loss though. It was a Lionel narrow gauge anyway.