ah, Sunday afternoon...

it's too chilly to be out fooling around in the gardens, besides the NBA playoffs are on. I've ingested the better part of a six of Beck's and have a full supply of UTZ pretzel rods to munch on, which will hold me until dinner, which will be spicy bratwurst, cooked in saurkraut and beer, lovingly assembled with some good old Foodtown american yellow cheese and a slathering of hot mustard, on Jersey hardrolls, with some delicious Tater Tots and, of course, some more Beck's. Hey, it's the simple things, guys... me and the Mrs., some bratwurst sandwiches and basketball. I am not in need of high-browed amusements.
I sometimes think that I would have fared well in simpler times. I don't need much to make me happy. Some good company or a good book. A meal of simple fare. A warm fire in the winter or sitting outside having a smoke on a summer's twilight is enough to fill my life with goodness. Sharing food and drink with good friends on a summer's afternoon, or the solitude of a snowy saturday night, it's all good. I feel bad for people who constantly have to be "on the go", always running about, looking for something exciting to fill their lives. Sometimes you have to let the good things come to you; if you stand still long enough, the world will bring itself to your door and present you with the most wonderful little things that might go un-noticed in your frenzied chase. I think we've all been imprinted with the idea that you need to do everything possible in as little a time as you can manage to be happy, but, for me, anyway, the best of things are those that are right under your nose. Like I've written before, I love the way the twilight invades my parlor at this time of year, it has a quality of light and color like no other time of year, and it's free to be enjoyed as long as it lasts; as the sun creeps higher into the sky as summer comes on, the light changes and even though the sun retreats along the same path in the autunm, the light is not the same. It is a special thing that I love and I don't know if anyone could understand it, save me. In the autumn, it's the twilight sun that invades the kitchen that turns me on, casting a warm glow into that room that is the very soul of Stately Sad Old Goth Manor. Hearth and home, you know; there's nothing like walking in the back door on an autumn's evening and smelling dinner being prepared... Sorry, but I'm just a old, romantic fool when it comes to this precious little gift we've been given; I do love life. I don't know where, if anywhere, I shall travel after my time on the mortal plane is over, but I doubt it will be as interesting as this. What say you?

pearls before swine...


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