Mondays Missives

When I was little I would pick mulberries and take them to mama. She would use biscuits and sugar and make me an individual cobbler.

There's a baby spit bug in here- I hope he's cuter than his protective sac, although it probably has a face only a mother could love. Can't imagine more humble beginnings though. What about you? What was your upbringing like? Well, I was born a poor spit bug...

• A guess: at the eleventh hour when there's renewed controversy and pressure for President Obama to release a copy of his birth certificate he'll say,"Excuse me while I whip this out." and present a copy. They'll wait until it looks like that's all the opposition has (if it doesn't actually come to that point- they'll make it look that way). The doubters will become true believers and believers born again.
• We're that retarded.
• Groan, soccer practice in one hour.
• Groan.
• Zachary and I went to Sunshine Lake today and tramped around for a couple of hours. We found a dozen or more mulberry trees I had never seen before. He ate a mulberry and I showed him how to take the nectar out of honeysuckle. Hopefully, he can still ID poison oak. The spit bug nymph we found kind of blew his mind and I thought I would have to pull the bug out of its spit sac to prove it to him, but I think he finally bought it.
• Old timers would tell you it was snake spit when you found a spit bug nymph (actually froghopper) sac.
• Yeah, that's the kind of stuff you pick up around me.
• The above comes from an obviously old draft.
• "Hey man, hows life? remember that time we sat on the porch of that old log cabin in Jacksboro and sang that Randy Travis song He Walked On Water?"- the last EMail I sent (07/18/2013).