Well, Nuts

Picture a can of mixed nuts.

Do you grab a handful or pick your favorites? Do you reach for the mighty Brazil nut or the humble peanut?

If you're expecting me to draw some parallel between nuts and...anything...fugettaboutit. I'm just askin'. I guess you could argue that people who take a handful are more apt to be adventurous, trying a bit of everything. Or perhaps, that pickers (Me!) are people of discriminating taste.

Or not. I love almonds and the nut that is glorified filler material, the peanut. Hate pecans. Pecans are brown chalk. When I was in college, the little house I rented had two pecan trees. In the late fall they'd produce hundreds of pecans. I collect them in piles and stomp them open in the driveway for the Mourning doves. Sometimes, the driveway was covered in squabbling birds. Apparently, times 'o plenty brings out the worst in the bird of peace.

The Rat Dog gets some screen time because my mother requested more photos. She is doing what canines do best--napping in the sun. On a hot day, she likes to cook herself into a state of stinky on the brick pathways. Ah, it's a dog's life. (I think she wishes she was the dog--Vincent--on "Lost." That dog gets more obese every episode.)

Thursday...whew.
P.K.