Rufus stops in daily here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse; he is somewhere around my age – that is, to say, “He’ll never see 60 again.” He’s a professor on sabbatical and likes to bring his laptop into the PBC to use our Wi-Fi and have the facts at hand when a question comes up – whether it have to do with geographical information or who played what role in that movie in 1953. Of course, they often can’t recall the title so Rufus and his buddies, of whom I count myself, join in adding remembered plot twists and so forth into the Google search engine.

Today, though, he announced one of his former students had become a “mommy blogger” and we all decided to see what she had to say. Well, Rufus was not surprised to learn she wrote her entries as she had written her essays – lots of detail and excellent grammar. A lot of information.  Clever. However, as he read and as we read over his shoulder – or followed along on our own laptops – it became apparent her “lots of information” responses have become “too much information.” Oh, yeah. A lot of too much information.

Right now there’s a lot of talk about baby (excuse me) poop and pots to pee in. We are wondering what these bloggers will write about when they get to be our age – constipation, Depends and gallbladders?

Yes, once again Spring Break for the grandkids has rolled around. Whoa. I just stopped typing cold. Bam. No fingers moving or even twitching . . . because I am overwhelmed with the thought of the coming week. Perhaps we should have a theme for the week – maybe Monastery of Silence meets Nuns Who Speakth Not. Or maybe I will go to Spring Bird Camp, which annually meets this time of the year at the northwest corner of the porch. The curriculum is to learn to fly through the westernmost north porch window, continue through the nothernmost west porch window, then on to the windows that form the northwest corner of the house. I almost think the constant thunking of my head would be preferable to the week of time with the spring chickens.

Oh, and yeah, after I hear the first couple of thunks, I scoot something in front of the first window to discourage attempted fly-throughs, but those guys are so insistent.

This morning I looked over at one of the three piece hinged mirrors I picked up at an auction for almost nothing. Each piece is framed in  wood and the hinges are brass and where they can be seen. That’s fine, except just lately I moved it onto a spot where two of the three mirrors are in a straight line. Stand and look in them and you have a slender body, but no head. Okay, I guess it is on to Plan B. Although . . . the body appears fit and you don’t have to gringe at winkles and crazed hair.

It was Saturday night in the Foo Bar and so now it is quiet here . . . just us old fuddy-duddy Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

A couple of days ago, LZP sent me this Entertaining Video and I have sent it on to others  . . . and then I thought I’d gather the folks at the PBC&R and we’d watch it on the big screen. Click on it if you want to join us.

Der Bingle sent this for Sydney, saying it was something about extreme sheep herding. Since he and I were outside doing yard work, we waited to come in and look at it. And when we did, we saw that he had sent the embedded code as opposed to the address, so we are flying by the seat of our pants on this one, flying blind . . . Heck, we’re probably taxi-ing. Whoa, if we get this one landed okay, I guess we’ll have to head into the Foo Bar to calm our nerves so we can make our foldover in the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

Am I sounding like Lucy Ricardo? Don’t answer that.

Well, here goes:

WOW!! It is so great. The Foo Bar is cheering and folks from the PBC&R are coming in and Foo is saying, “There’s goes the neighborhood.”

One of our friends here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse has decided we need a special place for insider parties and cabal meetings. She is getting all sorts of advice about the decor of this place, including palm leaf shaped fans that go back and forth on the ceiling like those at The Elephant Bar.

So far they are keeping me pretty much in the dark, but I hear hammering and I just saw some nicely polished teak along with a bevy of carpenters go past the window. Hmmm. I wonder just what this little innovator is doing. Here’s a picture of her – her name is Foo

And she tells me that the name of the additon will be the Foo Bar. Belly up for some sasparilla . . .

WE ARE ADDING THIS: It looks like Foo’s budget is going to have find a new cooling option – but one that still has ambiance. Probably this:

And Foo also tells me that she thinks the bar will be very popular because she says when Der Bingle was flying in B-52’s  “in the day”, that a lot of the guys would refer to things being FUBAR. So, she thinks there is already some name recognition out there. Got to go  . . . she has me looking for the brass fan we should have somewhere – she says that will give the place some class.

ONE MORE THING: The elephant came from Bangkok and Der Bingle says it was quite a sight when he and friends wrestled it into the back of a taxi. It is really, really heavy. ‘Course that was back in his flyboy days. If they tried it today . . . Oh, I don’t want to think about it.