Egads! What has happened? When you click on the pictures in the two post below, the enlargement is upside down. I’m going to look into this . . . after I take a deep breath and think for a little while.

We’re coming up on the first birthday of the little guy in the picture below. His grandma is one of my dear friends – a really great lady – from West Chester, Ohio. His grandpa is okay, too. Actually, he’s a pretty lucky little fellow.

Of course, when I speak of the Indiana Jones Movie Era, I am talking about the first three – not the last which I wrote about here – something about Old Man Pants.

Let’s see, an Indiana Jones movie was at the Drive-In in Chicago when Quentin was born; that would have been the first one. This picture, which has seen far better days and looks as if it could have been touched by snake venom, must have been taken about 1986 to 88. I’d guess maybe the second movie had hit the video release date for home viewing. I say this because the shorter Indiana Jones in this picture could not have been too long in the tooth – and that’s assuming he had front ones.

Actually Der Bingle had his leather jacket and hat before Indiana Jones came to the movies. I think the jacket was from Korea or Thailand and the hat was from Australia, but I could be wrong. Quentin’s jacket was from Korea (again I think) and I don’t know where we got the hat. But, anyway, here they are cooking out back on the patio.

By the way, there is a snake story about that patio and if you want to find out about it, I believe it is here.

I woke at about 3:20 in the morning. Yes, most people in these parts were sleeping, and I went to the bathroom. Well, first I thought about going to the bathroom – such a chore, dontcha know? – and decided that, yes, it would be the wise thing to do.

Then I get back under the covers and I AM AWAKE; the situation is obvious to me: I am up a tree without a paddle. No, I deliberately fouled-up that cliche; I think it is nighttime humor more than evidence of sleep deprivation. I could be wrong. I will see what my humor is like 12 hours from now as the afternoon wanes. I imagine whatever thoughts I have – funny or not – will run the gamut from A to ZZZZZZZZZ.

Too bad other people are in the house or I would bang things around and get some serious straightening up done. However, I know my dexterity level in the best of times and I think I would more than likely do something akin to dropping a pizza pan on the floor – WANGA WANGA WANGA – in these early morning hours.

And to think I used to have days (deadline) when I would go to bed at three after writing three articles that I had started at, oh, 10 pm. I remember sitting there spending part of that time calculating possible rates of progress and finishing up times. Oh, when that last period was typed . . . the closing of the laptop was soooo delicious. Of course, getting up then at 6:30 am was a little less so, but once over the out of bed hump, I felt cheerful. Until the next deadline. I never figured out why I did this; I have only figured out that I can’t do it anymore. That trudge to the finish was like hitting the wall in a marathon – AS IF I WOULD KNOW.

Capitals. They are supposed to indicate yelling; I think that is too limiting. I think of them as emphasis. I get snide and snarky if I want to have a tantrum in typing. But that is just an early morning rambling. Actually, it’s the truth, the rambling is in the bringing it up here.

I am craving a peanut butter foldover. I don’t have any Trader Joe’s sourdough bread so I can’t pretend I’m going native in San Diego. I guess it’s a Midwest Wheat morning, and with that, I see I have made my decision am am going to the kitchen NOW. (emphasis)