Still Shedding Weight


The re-roofing of our home is progressing nicely.  The crew seems to be very competent and the work is progressing smoothly.  I dunno how they stand the heat and the constant pressure on their back, bending, picking up and climbing ladders is astounding.  That is not a job for an old man or anyone with back problems.  One of our worries is the presence of tacks in our driveway.  They have this thingamajig called “nail dog†that consists of a large magnet attached to a rod and you walk around the driveway, or yard, and swing it back and forth.  When you finish, you pull back on the handle, the magnet moves away from the base and what you have picked up falls into the trash bin.  Every man needs one of these.  Wonder where you can get one?

My weight continues to go down.  I stepped on the scales the other day and weighed in at 193 ½ .  You can imagine the broad grin that overtook my normally dour look when I step on any scale.  If this keeps up, I’m setting my new goal at 185.  The last time I visited that area I was probably 30 years old.  All my clothes are starting to sag a little on me, but I refuse to complain.  Anyway, I don’t think GQ will be outside wanting to take pics anytime soon.

For several years now, there has been an ugly black mole on my left temple.  About 9 months ago Jerilyn started rubbing the inside of a banana peel on it (we eat a banana each morning in our breakfast cereal).  Now, it is almost completely gone.  Reminds me of when I was a young boy and had warts on my hands.  Of course the theory, by my friends and I back then, was if a frog peed on your hand you had warts.  Our solution was to break a milkweed and spread the milky solution on the warts.  Most of the time the darn wart was torn off by some activity before the milkweed had a chance to work.   We had other homilies such as:  if you sing before breakfast you will cry before supper; if the sun shines while it is raining, it will rain the same time the next day; if you drop food on the floor, you have 5 minutes to pick it up before you have to throw it away (I still use that one).

I was standing down on the pier the other day watching a snake slither by in the water.  I have a strong dislike (fear?) of all snakes.  I remember being in Mr. Fryatt’s Biology class in the 9th grade and he had this small green snake that he was making everyone hold for a brief period of time.  As each student took their turn, including the girls, it finally worked its way to me.  As the small, innocent, snake was dropped into my hand there was an immediate urge to toss it out the window, which was nearby.  I was thinking, at the time, this was Mr. Fryatt’s form of entertainment for the day.  As a 15 year old boy, it was unthinkable for me to show fear in front of my classmates.  I doubt that I have ever touched another snake since that day.  Mr. Fryatt passed away quite a few years ago.  I have forgiven him for forcing me to do something that created instant panic within me.   Most of my nightmares includes snakes in some form.

Saturday was a happy day for me.  I loaded all the necessary supplies into our little Puffer boat, with its 5HP engine, and headed from our pier down Lambs Creek toward the Poquoson River and some serous fishing.   It took me an hour to get to my fishin’ hole.  Once there, I threw out the anchor, baited my two hooks and the days fun began.  Two hours later, 20 fish (Croakers) had been caught and released.  Most of them were too small to keep.   I hardly ever keep the fish I catch unless our neighbors want them.  One neighbor wants them cleaned first.  Needless to say, I never ask him anymore.  Reluctantly, after several hours of fishing fun, I pulled up anchor and headed for home.  The tide was going in, so the little 5HP motor didn’t have to struggle as much.  I arrived back at the pier in 45 minutes, tired, sunburned and in need of refreshments.  I missed not having my son with me on this trip.  Hopefully, he will come in sometime this summer and we can enjoy time together fishing and talking.   He is a much better fisherman than I am.

Until then, thanks for reading.  If you would like to be removed from my distribution list, just reply to this email with “Remove†inserted in the subject line.


“Let a fool hold his tongue and he will pass for a sage.”

Publius Syrus