…why I write this stuff.
|Better be more around here!|
It certainly isn’t for the money! There is no better way to be poor than to write for someone else for what they consider reasonable amounts of money—especially on the Internet. A penny for your thoughts comes to mind because they like to pay about that or less per word.
I write because I enjoy it most of the time when life hasn’t dealt some not so nice blows. It reminds me of what is important in life like friendship, kindness, health and bum wipe. Making people laugh is a form of an act of kindness and lots of folks need that today with all that goes on now. So not all that I write is humorous because sometimes too I have had my own bummer experiences.
Oh yeah, you are on your own on the bum wipe. The Internet is mostly paperless now (if you do it properly) and besides the exercise of going to the store is good for your health. I got your back but not down there. You are on your own.
Have a great day. BTW stuff has many synonyms.
…my mom hanging the clothes to dry on a clothesline (in winter!!).
|Improvised wind brake for the clothesline|
The clothes dryer was not a common appliance in our neighbourhood when I was a tyke. My mom also did the wash in one of the ringer type machines that squeezed out the excess water when she fed them through the powered ringers prior to them being put in the laundry basket for the trip to the backyard.
And sometimes it was cold in the winter so the clothes froze and got kind of stiff but there were two advantages to that happening. Firstly, they had this really fresh smell and secondly, the clothes were board-like stiff so they made for great kitchen wars with my brothers. We would take the stiffened clothes and whack away until the inside heat kind of softened them up or Mom got us to stop but we all still had a good laugh doing it (including Mom).
The neighbours also hung their clothes out to dry on their lines as well. Mrs. B down the road a bit (like 3 backyards) was a little different. She hung their clothes out on the line while smoking a cigar and when she got to Mr. B’s combination underwear well it created quite a few chuckles. Seems Mrs. B was not into the use of bleach and the white long johns were more of a kind of grey shade with cigar colour stains down in the bum wipe area. Mr. B was kind of full of hot air but I guess he let some go every once in a while.
I don’t ever remember being inside their house. I think there were a few good reasons.
…bread and milk being delivered to the house and the delivery
guy got off a horse drawn wagon.
Living in the city, you really lose out on being close to a lot of animals like country folks do every day so when we heard the clop-clop of hooves of the majestic beast pulling that cart, we ran out from everywhere to just go up and pet that visitor to our neighbourhood. No not the delivery guy, the horse you bozo.
The horse was very content because it mostly would have a feed bag of oats or something strapped on and it would even know when to stop to make a delivery. The driver would put out the “anchor” that I guess would just help slow down the horse due to extra weight if it bolted for some reason (in the picture above without the tether). Mostly it just chomped away on the oats since it also had blinders on to screen motion from the left or right some. And since it was eating, it needed to make room for the new oats in its gut and would drop a road apple or two. Well that would attract some of the mothers in the neighbourhood who were raised in farm country and they would go running for the garden spade to get the warm road apples for purposes of fertilizing something in the household garden.
Seems Mrs. B never took part in that neighbourhood game. I’m thinking she didn’t come from farm country. It would have been quite the picture though of her running to get a garden spade with a stogie hanging from her mouth. Maybe that is how Mr. B got those marks down around the bum wipe area of his combination underwear. Nah, he didn’t need help. It was pretty obvious he was full of it.