I owe myself an apology failing to even write of me! If this is my busy season I must be in it. Getting machines out, servicing same, seeing it going a-field, myself using half of it the day’s have become longer. Throw in tending my ladies, one of them in the wrong place. The wires going dead Frieda backing into one. No need to worry. I didn’t feel a thing. Finding a calf needing some blue spray for flies, Fixing fence; a couple insulators missing, some tangled wires, some mysteriously lowered retightened insulators(?????) (some skullduggery going on???), Equipment repair, Finding the fence failure a broken circuit completing gate handle, otherwise I been living it up soaking up the Sun under my wide brimmed floppy hat and hand covering brown cotton jersey gloves. Notice I threw the descriptive word “jersey” in there to display my sense of continued higher classed choices in my Shorthorn country wardrobe choices.
Feeling bad missing my favorite private haunts checking in on only two the more public joints I openly favor. Serves them right for letting me in in those joints in the first place.
Heavens to murgatroid I’ve missed the opened wide garage door to check out the offered side boarded coffee and brownies. One sheepishly thing remembered from what I read to tired to comprehend or remember I like the pictures Cliff’s discerning choice in the new to himself Ollie tractor.
I remembered Alias’s birthday, it’s so close to mine, and he’s such a close net friend I’ve more than enjoyed his cyber company. Besides it not everybody who’s house hold has allowed me to run my ladies in their kitchen.
For my yesterday’s contribution. BGKC.