Daily Archives: November 17, 2011

Kerrville Trip Nov 17 Salvation Army Book Haul

The Making of the Roman Army From Republic to Empire, Lawrence Keppie

I don’t recall ever reading the Keppie version.

Myles Keogh Biography by Charles L Convis

The Art of War, Sun Tzu, forward by Liddell Hart.  My version’s paperback and doesn’t have the Hart forward, so I’m tickled pea green with this.

Frontier State at War – Kansas 1861-1865, Albert Castel

I’ve already got this, but it’s an old copy and doesn’t have the dust jacket.

Brown Water Black Berets – Lt. Commander Thomas J. Cutler

Never read this one.

I’d have been back sooner if it hadn’t been for this billy goat on the Ranch Road.  Spent considerable while trying to find an unlocked gate to one or another ranch nearby.  He was tame, really tame, and I could have lifted him over one of the fences, but didn’t know which side of the road to choose.  Gale and Kay are calling around to try to find who owns him.

Lots of roadkill deer and exotics in the ditches between here and Kerrville.  I’d hate to see this guy join them.

But the biggest, most exciting haul of the day:  Someone dumped an intact Kenmore Water Softener in the grader ditch.  The outer shell is rigid nylon, looks to hold 20 gallons, and inside’s a fiberglass cylinder might hold another 7, 8 gallons if I can think of something to use it for.  And the pump appears to be undamaged, also.  Something really heavy in there somewhere.  The whole shebang must have weighed over 100 pounds.

The HEB grocery store parking lot was jam-packed and I REALLY didn’t want to go in there.  But I said to myself, “If you’ll go in there and promise not to be forever whining and complaining about it I’ll give you a special treat.”

Hmmm,” says I.  “What do you have in mind?”

How about a pie?  Or some Elgin sausage?”

“If you don’t want me whining and complaining you ought to fork over Elgin sausage AND a pie.  All or nothing.”

“Cripes!  You’re driving a hard bargain, but time’s wasting.  You got it.”


Old Jules

Juggling the Possibilities

I finished off most of this bottle of Jack Daniels on December 31, 1999, while I was sitting around listening on the short wave radio to Y2K not happening, first in New Zealand, then Australia, then places further west until it got to me, where it happened well enough to make up for those other places it didn’t.

But as you can see, there was some left in the bottle when Y2K got to me.  I resolved to hold it back until something else happened.  I’ve had it sitting over there on the microwave collecting dust for several years, threatening to celebrate various New Year and Thanksgivings and I-don’t-know-whatalls.  I’d had it in the back of my mind lately I’d do my 70th birthday with it, then slid the clock backward and thought maybe my 69th here in a few days.

But it’s colder than a bear’s butt in this cabin this morning.  I’ve got water heating in the microwave half-gallon at a time to pour over my head for a warm shower before I have to walk up to Gale’s to see if Little Red’s available for a necessaries run to Kerrville.  Got to thinking a hot toddie might just warm things up enough to stop some of this shivering I’m doing before I pour that water over my head.

That Y2K whiskey just mightn’t survive another hour.

On the other hand, it might be nice to have it for when I turn 75.

Old Jules

Much in Demand Here

Several ladies in Africa who used to have hubbies and fathers who were powerful men in Africa with fortunes stuck away in places the ladies can’t get to them want my help.  And lawyers in the UK are trying hard to send me a lot of money if I help them prove somebody with my surname is a distant relative of mine and me being the only qualified person to claim his humongous fortune.  And I won some lottery somewhere I didn’t even buy a ticket for and never heard of.

A lot of people might think these emails are con-games intended to prey on us old people who are too stupid to spot them as not being legitimate, but not me.  I figure once I’ve sent my bank account number and whatnot off to each of them they’ll almost certainly dump enough riches on me to pay some guy in town to fix the Toyota and the New Truck both.  And some left over to get a water heater and the roof fixed.

If I hadn’t been so busy I’d have done it already.  I’ve had a string of those African ladies trying to get me to help them and UK lawyers chasing me with money from my dead relatives and lotteries I’ve won for a considerable while.  The African ladies want me to help them so badly they even call me darling sometimes.

All these naysayers and skeptics are just jealous.  Us elderly folks are plenty smart enough to know a scam when we see one, and these aren’t.

Old Jules



Bulging motion cauldron cloud of stone
Patchy layer of brief life paint
Boils against the swirl of mist
Caresses swift changes of sky
And seasons
Sleepy knuckles on the skull of earth
What do you ponder?
Promontory above the sweeping distance
Falling, sliding into basin of the eons
This flea of life across the flash of moment
Longs to feel your numbness
To the march of time
Your wisdom of silence

Old Jules