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Archive for March 2011

Day 2 (River City Blues Festival) and yuuuuuuurrrr OUT!! (March 19, 2011)

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Blues in the Schools (BITS) features little kiddies who’ve been taught all about blues music in  a special program whose primary urgency is to reinterpret all those lyrics that might otherwise have been seen as lewd, crude and/or suggestive. Actually, the children seem pretty receptive to our music; what they learn is enough to stage a half hour performance every year at River Fest. This year, too, and we applauded and felt good, too. I do hope they don’t sanitize the lyrics overly much in the classroom and leave us with Pat Boone blues. (Learn)

Marietta star? In the blueslight? The gauntlet has been flung. The challenge accepted. Fifty-cents for the ride, folks! Come on down! (blues photo by Don Mc Ghee. 3/20/2011)

It's coming! It's coming! There's a blues song coming! (bluesphoto by Don Mc Ghee. 3/20/2011)

Horse drawn carriages have become a familiar effort to attract tourists. (donphoto. 3/20/2011)

Veronika in Marietta. (flephoto 3/20/2011)

There wasn’t a loser in the rest of Saturday’s program and I haven’t been able to say that in years, if ever, in the 14 or 15 years we’ve been trekking over the Marietta in the springtime. Veronika Jackson is a solo act who can make love to her guitar and sing sweet as a bird sitting among the dagwood blossoms in the spring…at the same time. A fitting appetizer for the Saturday afternoon lineup. (Buy)

Veronika Jackson (fle photo. 3/20/2011)

And when you’ve said “Davina and the Vagabonds,” you’ve just about summed it up! Some would call them lightnin’ in a bottle. How that woman can dance around that electric piano without ever raising her butt off the piano stool is a mystery, even to me. Driven by a hard driving Dixieland beat, Davina, the lady of tattoos and every one of her band members are talented actors and musicians – entertainers even. (Must see) (Buy)

The tattooed lady from California who makes wonderful music, although far be it for me to call it blues. (don photo. 3/20/2011)

A little bit of this, a little bit of that, Davina is a first class showwoman. (flephoto 3/20/2011)

Coal barges still ply the Ohio River, taking a sharp right in Marietta (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Davina and the Vagabonds took my fancy. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Enthusiasm of the Vagabonds' trombone player reminded me of Louis Armstrong. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Doors to the Lafayette Hotel's freight elevator (the guest elevator is too small for Junior, Jr. Thought a couple of different times I's going to have to camp out in my throne chair in the auditorium. Taildragging, however, in all instances, was slowly overcome by people who do give a shit!

Then there was Little Joe McLerran who had given the maestro a great long list of his accomplishments in the public world of the blues. Won a big competition for solo and duet acts. Close your eyes as Little Joe tunes up with his dad (Ronnie Mack, the bass player) and you’re transported back to the hills of the Virginias and North Carolina and the rest of the Piedmont area. Unpolished but poised. People people on stage and off. Suggestions from the peanut gallery: Little Joe might work out the occasional kinks in his otherwise very good pickin’ style, and tone down his “aw-shucks” hicksteronstage personality (That’s a big OOPS if you-see-what-you-get!).  (Buy)

Little Joe McLarren & his dad Robbie Mack. Little Joe reminds me of Woody Guthrie in his voice and his body style. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Cobbler John takes a breather to see what he has wrought this year. Good job, John. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Jumpin’ Johnny Sansone kicked off the evening session Saturday. Cajun! How can you not dance about and jump and shout like all the good folks of Marietta were doing in time with Jumpin’ Johnny’s beat. Understated. Splashed with warm spots of humor. . A wonderful let’s-pretend swagger. Play that accordion, Johnny. Tell us another one , Johnny. Don’t stop sanging, friend Johnny. Don’t stop! (See) (Buy)

Jumpin' Johnny Sansone sprinkled Marietta with Zydeco hotsauce, and did we lick it all up. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

The color of fun. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Love and laughter at Riverfest. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

Amazing how good an accordian can sound when it's plugged into the bayous of Louisiana. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

‘Bout then I got tired from all that boogeying. Stayed for a couple of tunes from the big band sounds of Big Daddy (Charles) Stallings. New Jersey sounds. Smooth and silky. My only complaint is that it didn’t have the oomph a generous splash of soul would given it. Still, good listening, just that easy listening isn’t my idea of how to end the blues concert with an explosion of energy. Oh, well! (Semi-buy)

The audience. Lots of places, I don't see young children at blues festivals. Marietta must have tamed the wild thang. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)

My Scrabble (and now blues) friend Julie and her sweetie lit up the dance floor. Ain't happiness wonderful? (fle photo. 3/20/2011)

The crowd was Saturday lite, compared to other years we’ve attended. But no one, as far as I know, complained about my throne chair which sits in the middle of the first row for a perfect view, excepting when the dancers jump up and blind me to the stage with their belly buttons

Charles "Big Daddy" Stallings brought his 7 piece (I only counted 6) piece blues party band from New Jersey. (flephoto. 3/20/2011)


It's all over. Sunday morning. Don walks slowly to his car for the return trip to Michigan while CB packs 10 pounds of sugar into Tranq. We already have reservations for next year (There's only one handicapper room in the hotel). (flephoto. 3/21/2011)

The historic Lafayette Hotel in Marietta OH. (flephoto. 3/21/2011)


Written by frankieleeee

March 20, 2011 at 4:02 pm

Posted in Blues

20th Annual River City Blues Fest: Day…er.. Night One. Marietta, Ohio. 3/18/2011

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Unbeknownst to us in Room 210, the guy who asked where we got the Mexican food because he wanted some Mexican food was drumming for his supper for E. C. Scott.

"En route" from Cincinnati to Marietta, home of the 20th annual River City BluesFest. Tours by Tranq.

Somewhere near Athens, Ohio. Bring it on, Atlanta; bring it on Stone Mountain!

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"En route" to the corner of Ohio where West Virginia awaits, (blues) battle ready.

"En route" along the last stretch of the Ohio River before hitting the Marietta City Limits. Oil refining country. Fresh air burdened mightily by waste products of the ugly kind, I guess you could say.

Is it these funny glasses that distort the world for me and nobody else? Or is life as full of thrills and chills and spills as it continues to prove to me that it is? Or am I going to wake up any minute now from this (Is it “Alice in Wonderland” or “Great Expectations”) dream?

Naaawwww! I ‘spect it has something to do with my not-quite-departed mind gruadually losing its elasticity and leaving me with a concrete block for a drum!

Sunny Moorman, veteran Cincinnati bluesman, packs up at Marietta's Lafayette Hotel after opening for E. C. Scott.

The brightest stars who shone on Friday night were those of California blueslady E. C. Scott and her band Smoke. Excellent. A little Bessie Smith, a smidgeon of Ella Fitzgerald, a soupcon of a dozen others blended in for some fine tunes. The bassman was awesome (and you know how I do love my bass)!

I do love to bounce my own self and watch the dancers weave and spin and jump around the dance floor. Frowns disappear quickly even when there are no brown paper bags hidden in the corner over there.

E. C. Scott, a Californian who could pass for a delta queen, methinks. No boos. No hisses. Lots of love for her music. Many, many kisses, thanking her.

My bud Don Mc Ghee waiting for a good shot of E. C.'s guitarist. CB and I had a day's head start on scouting out the Marietta location after Don suddenly realized he had the wrong day marked on his calendar. We'll have to double our pleasure for the rest of the weekend to make up for lost time, I suppose.

The guitar player for E. C. (I forgot his name.)

E. C. Scott's bass player. I forgot his name, too, but not his style, not the enjoyment his playing gave me. Nossirree BOB!

Darkened (though smoke-free these days) corners near the stage. The people? You look. You figure it out. Can you?

"Cobbler John" Bolen has been a, if not THE honcho of Marietta's River City Bluesfest since we've been going and that's more than ten years. Yes, Cobbler John does repair lost and mutilated footwear.

Walk right in; sit right down. Baby, let your hair hang down.

Typical scene: audience taking pictures of audience taking pictures of whoever is on stage.

Cobbler John's daughter has painted backdrops for the Riverfest stage for the past several years.

With computers there's always something to do. CB looks up Scrabble (copyright til you die) people and stuff while we wait with cable television service people and hotel people to fix our TV which is the only TV set in the building of more than 100 rooms which does not work. Thank goodness for Netflix, eh?

Jerry the hotel service person takes another look at our TV which is half frozen all the time, it's pixels showing mightily and naughtily.

Sonny Moorman packs up for the long haul back to Cincinnati after opening up for E. C. Scott and Smoke. Sonny's been playing for blues audiences all around for years. Last time I saw him before last night, his hair was shoulder-length.

Well, it’s Saturday morning and I just got waylaid by Don and CB looking for a jaunt downtown.

Written by frankieleeee

March 19, 2011 at 1:36 pm

Posted in Blues

Willie: A Mournful Tale of Trials and Tribulations. (Lunchbunch. 3/15/2011).

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Molly Mallone’s Irish Pub. Montgomery Road. Pleasant Ridge (Cincinnati) O.

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There was more food which, as you can see if you corral your wits, not shown (because Bob and I were so drunk from the beer – and the root beer that neither one of us could hold a camera steady. Forever lost to visual enjoyment were breaded mushrooms (Bob liked them), crab cakes (not worth the money – $10.) Probably, when it’s all listed and added and divided UP, a 7.3 which is high praise from our rahhther niggardly evaluators.

At last we found ourselves hugging and kissing and shaking hands and smiling and nodding politely and excusing ourselves (“excuse me all to hell”) til the last dog died, sitting around a table in the bar area of Molly Malone’s, listening to Willie’s tale of woe. She had arrived home the previous night ending a 16-hour-and-change drive from the Scrabble (copyright til you die) tables in Saratoga Springs NY. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she hopped in her trusted steed, the SUBARU and headed to points south to rendezvous with her friends in the Lunchbunch for a well-critiqued meal and some absolutely smashing Scrabble (copyright til you die) afterwords.

“What a day!” she said as she tearfully  plopped her bottom on a barroom chair.

“What a week it has been.

“If you didn’t know me, you’d swear the tale I’m about to tell is filled with a basket of bald-faced lies. But it’s all the truth, I so swear. Since last I saw any of you I have driven from Inglewood, Ohio, to Toronto, Ontario, Canada, to Enosburg Falls, Vermont, U.S.A., to Saratoga Springs, New York, to Toronto, to Inglewood, and now to Cincinnati, Ohio, after a couple of cat naps which I grabbed en route. I tell you I must be feeling

Written by frankieleeee

March 18, 2011 at 3:35 pm

Remembering the Stellacious one (Cheryl Cadieux)!

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As many of you know “Stella,” one of Scrabble’s best-known stars, and founder/moderator of the OSPD email Scrabble (copyright til you die) message board, has died! Yesterday afternoon (March 16). And even though we had been expecting it, it still left us with a sense of incredulity. I’ve found some photographs I shot of her and friends in the past few years. I pass them along to you.

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Written by frankieleeee

March 17, 2011 at 2:02 pm

Ah One! Ah Two! Ah OinkaDoodleMoo! Come Piggy Pigs! And Pigesses! Come on you cute little chubby babies! Momma’s got Barbecue for You! In Kettering, Ohio. Yum! Yum! Yum! March 3, 2011. Lunchbunch!

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It was 9:15 on a Thursday, March 3, 2011. In Northside, an enclave in Cincinnati, Tranq the van rolled to a quick but silent stop 20 feet from Bonomini’s Bakery on Blue Rock Street. Cb grabs her wallet and runs in, hoping they haven’t sold the Paczkis we’ve reserved for the Lunchbunch, the last Lunchbunch before Fat Tuesday. They haven’t. She grabs them for a buck and a quarter a throw, throws them in the back with Junior, Jr.

Correct the spelling of paczkis (correct spelling), spelled pUczkis above. These are truly special donuts, extra sweet, extra fat and best eaten, I discovered this year with a knife and fork so you can sop up the jelly with the batter. Damn, they're good. Eat your heart out, Elaine! (photo by frankie. Mar 3, 2011. Cincinnati O)

Task one accomplished.

Check One.

9:40 a.m. Sears pick up in Blue Ash, a few miles up the pike from Northside. CB jumps from Tranq, runs in, grabs the new crisper tops she’s ordered for Keith’s refrigerator (even if Keith doesn’t live there anymore).

9:51 a.m. Task two accomplished.

Check Two.

11:00 a.m. Scheduled time for the Lunchbunch to gather for its weekly overdose of fun, food and absolutely fabyoolous intercourse.

Solemn on the outside, we are all rolling in the aisles between the tables in and out of the restrooms in the parking lots, our sides blistering, coming to within millimeters of bursting. Without a T-Bird. (frankie photo. Kettering O. Mar 3, 2011)

Even Bob takes time out from his vast pizza research projects to give Lunchbunch his full attention, to lend us his funny bone, even. (Frankie photo. Kettering O. Mar 3, 2011)

(Mark Peebles - owner, Bob, Willie and in front ME, fle) Lunchbunch's publicity muscle often causes business owners to pause, go out of their way, if necessary, to greet our members and wish us a heart and happy meal. This is our official "having fun" portrait. It is said in some years previous, one owner offered to get takeout for the group from a nearby Burger King in exchange for a good write-up for his own gut bombs. It is said. (CB photo. Kettering O. Mar 3, 2011)

10:28 a.m. CB and I pull into the parking lot at OinkaDoodleMoo in Kettering Ohio! The earliest we’ve EVER been. Thanks to … to what? Turning over a new leaf? hehehe!!!  Yeah!

Dayton Daily News:

OinkADoodleMoo BBQ opens site in Kettering

By Mark Fisher, Staff WriterUpdated 1:02 AM Thursday, October 7, 2010

A new barbecue restaurant opened in Kettering Wednesday, and West Carrollton has a new coffee shop that may show up elsewhere on occasion.

OinkADoodleMoo barbecue restaurant opened its third location in a former Chipotle at 3910 Far Hills Ave., just north of East Stroop Road. OinkADoodleMoo opened its flagship Englewood BBQ restaurant in fall 2009 and earlier this year added a lunch trailer at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base’s Area B. The new restaurant opened with 22 employees, according to Mark Peebles, OinkADoodleMoo’s president and founder.

In addition to its BBQ menu that includes pulled pork, ribs, chicken and beef brisket, the new Kettering restaurant will serve a custom line of JD’s Old Fashioned Frozen Custard products, including frozen custard pies.

OinkADoodleMoo’s hours are from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday through Thursday, 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday, and closed Sunday. For more information, call (937) 985-9346.

10:28 a.m. Task Three accomplished.

Check Three.

Willie had chosen OinkaDoodleMoo in Kettering so she’d have easy access from her doctor’s office, which came first.

After what seemed like hours and hours of waiting, Bob rolled in from Hellzapoppin’, Ohio, with his Lake Waynoka Protective League Shield shining brightly in his windshield, just above the celebrated VIN number.

Thence Willie wearing her version of a wild west duster (outwear made popular by the shootout at the O. K. Corral when Wyatt and Doc and the boys replaced all them dumb ole rules with bullets and buckshot). Still do not know whether she was “totin'” under the flaps.

Junior, Jr had some issues with Oinka: was difficult for us to maneuver in the ordering line and in the questioning asking line leading to the cash register. Nossir, not real comfortable. The place obviously had not been designed for a wheelchair unless the designers had planned for wheelchairs to be personhandled, dignity be damned.

One thing I love about OinkaDoodleMoo [get it? Oinka (pig) Doodle (chicken) Moo (beef cow)] is it also has frozen custard. It is my belief that Eve couldn’t resist the apple on that final test, after eschewing hundreds of other flavors, because the serpent was also a magician who knew how to imbue that apple with the creamy, eggy, sweet, flavor of custard. Even I couldn’t have been any help to her!

Like always, we got at least one of everything so we wouldn’t need a second visit, especially if it sucked.

For me the meat was tasteless; the sauces were very good to excellent (Carolina vinegar and mustard); the banana cream frozen custard pie was grrreeattt!

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1:20 p.m. (I think) we met in the parking lot of a branch of the Dayton Library, not far from OinkaDoodleMoo and also not far (Bob ascertained in advance) Troni’s Italian Restaurant, home of the best pizza in southwest Ohio (no joke).

Task Four Accomplished.

Check Four.

This generic building is a library in the Dayton System, Willie's system. Kinda looks like an old Western set, mebbe the two teachers waiting for a showdown with the town bully and madam. (Frankie photo. Kettering O. Mar 3, 2011)

Here we sweated, strained, and clawed our fingers to the bone for 9 games of Scrabble (copyright til you die). Not a dry skin pore to be found anywhere around the table by the time we left the building, some of us so weak we were all approached by library staffers offering help and solace. Truth is we were preparing Willie for her upcoming tournament in Saratoga Springs, New York.(We prepared Willie so well she developed a headache and had to skip the early bird rounds. Dog!)

CB and Willie have changed the tone of Lunchbunch fun on this day; they have constructed a severe demeanor which each feels is a significant aid to having fun playing Scrabble (copyright til you die!), that is to say, to winning. (Frankie pic. Mar 3, 2011. Dayton OH)

Bob, too, as you can see, has adapted, er, adopted a serious demeanor for the purpose of delighting the devil that lives in the left lower corner of his tricorne heart. (fle pic. Dayton Oh. Mar 3, 2011)

And when the day is done, well, friends, it's like Roy Rogers ridin' along singin' a song to Trigger to cheer him up and try to let him know there'll be anothn er wonderful day just like this day, by 'n' by. (fle pic. Mar 3, 2011. Dayton, OH)

6:00 (or so) p.m. CB drives Tranq into the parking lot of Troni’s Italian Restaurant. Jumps out to bring home a delicious Italian sausage sandwich we’d ordered from the library (Bob got his usual pizza and a meatball sub).

CB protecting the beloved sausage sandwich as she skitters furtively from door to Tranq. (fle pic. Kettering O. Mar 3, 2011)

6:00 (or so) p.m. Task Five is accomplished.

6:00 (or so) p.m. Check Five.

Thence homeward in the might Tranq, hopeful of heart that Jeopardy had not yet begun.

Written by frankieleeee

March 12, 2011 at 9:21 pm

Posted in Lunchbunch

Lunchbunch Completes Circuit of Mt Orab’s Mexican Restaurants: Mi Camino Real, finally! (February 24, 2011 – wilflebobcee)

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A cute horsey carved into the back of a chair at Mi Camino Real in Mt Orab. I like to think of this here young filly as my dearest and closest friend inside the building. (fle photo. Mt Orab OH. 20110224)

The sky did NOT FALL even though it had every right to. CB and I were early on this Lunchbunch Thursday morning (February 24, 2011). A good time, although I told Bob the atmosphere of Mi Camino Real was so inviting I felt like I’d been there before. The maitre d’hotel was warmly solicitous as he patiently held the door for Junior, Jr, and showed us to our table (Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?); and the server who hastened to the kitchen to order up our chorizo and cheese appetizer even though it was nowhere to be seen on the menu.

Mi Camino Real, home away from home of the Lunchbunch. Mi Camino Real where 4 chairs have been imprinted by the butts of all of us Lunchbunchers. It was a rainy and foggy night. After all was said and done, CB and I stopped by on the way back to Cincinnati and picked up a chorizo-and-bean burrito (which was excellent if small). I stayed in Tranq and shot pictures while CB sauntered in, ordered the burrito and talked on the phone, desperately trying to make up for time lost away from her phone all day. Our dinner of Bob Lasagna and Mi Camino Real burrito was most excellent, satisfied all the hunger in the household. I'm just sorry Bob didn't give us enough for the whole 12-family building. (fle photo. Mt Orab OH. 2/24/2011)

A profusion, or is that a "confusion" of food at our Mexican table. The Lunchbunch order sounds something like, "Hey, we havent tried this before. Can you divide it into 4ths?" We are always looking for first time foods and are often pleasantly surprised and we are sometimes very unpleasantly surprised with the likes of a "beet" salad. Did I ever tell you the story of how my brother Jacky and I (I was 4; he was 6) stole a quart of homepickled beets from the kitchen cupboard of a family friend way back in 1948? Afraid we'd get caught, we hid behind a corner of the house out back and inhaled those beets in two minutes or so. We ate them all. Seconds later we regurgitated them all. Neither of us could eat beets after that! Still we lunchbunchers take pride in our culinary experimentation with the likes of sheep's testicles (Lexington KY). (Bob photo. Mt Orab OH. February 24, 2011)

I was shoveling a gully through the salsa with warm corn chips afore Bob sashayed in seconds in front of Willie (who had brought gifts with her: paczkis (poonch’ kis), highly caloric but delicious filled donuts that originally were made by housewives on Fat Tuesday to empty the cupboards of sweets and fats to diminish the temptation of fattening food during the Lenten diet in which that stuff is proscribed by the Roman Catholic Church.

Willie brought the Paczkis; the rest of us provided the piggery disposal system. (A pączek is a deep-fried piece of dough shaped into a flattened sphere and filled with confiture or other sweet filling. Pączki are usually covered with powdered sugar, icing or bits of dried orange zest. A small amount of grain alcohol(traditionally, Spiritus) is added to the dough before cooking; as it evaporates, it prevents the absorption of oil deep into the dough. Although they look like bismarcks or jelly doughnuts, pączki are made from especially rich dough containing eggs, fats, sugar and sometimes milk. - Wikipedia.) (bob photo. Mt Orab OH. February 24, 2011)


Paczki Day (Fat Tuesday) but greed has expanded the paczki shopping season a couple of weeks (just because they’re profitable).

Willie, as far as I know, did not have a pony with her. However, she did have sutures and future scars from surgery on her left earlobe (follow the orange arrow), closing up to make room for her son's wedding and all. (fle photo. Mt Orab OH. Feb 24, 2011)

Bob and I shared an “everything” fajita – chicken, beef and shrimp – the bulk of which he wound up taking home because it was so dry it kept leeching the blood out of the inside of my throat.

The restaurant has initiated special luncheon prices – one size fits all – in an effort to stay afloat financially. They’ve suffered repeated setbacks with the shrinking economy and with the departure of workers repairing Route 32 around Mount Orab and who now find they Mexican fine dining at noon elsewhere. All lunch items for $6.95, including drinks which include some of the fourteen flavors of Jarritos (means ‘little jug’ from the Spanish tradition of drinking from a small clay pottery jug):

Jarritos is available in the following fourteen flavors (with the Spanish name in parentheses):

I didn’t, however, see hide nor hair of Bob’s and my favorite Mexican drink (except for worm-flavored beverages, of course) horchata.

(The name comes from Catalan orxata, probably from ordiata, made from ordi (barley) (Latin *hordeata < hordeum). The French and English ‘orgeat‘, the Italian ‘orzata’, and the Surinamese Dutch orgeade have the same origin, though the beverages themselves have diverged, and are generally no longer made from barley.[1]Various folk etymologies exist – one legend links the origins of the name to James I of Aragon, who after being given the drink for the first time by a local in Alboraia, was said to have exclaimed “Això és or, xata!” (“That’s gold, darling!”)

Horchata or orxata is the name of several kinds of traditional beverage, made of ground almondssesame seedsricebarley, or tigernuts(chufas). In Mexico, horchata is made of rice, sometimes with vanilla and always with cinnamon. – Wikipedia)

Bob impressed us with the lasagna he shared with us. The best lasagna I can remember eating. A reason to changeover! Even Willie’s John apparently liked it and you just KNOW when that happens that is something! Alas! no pics!

While Bob was batting only .125 on accuracy for the the trivia of the day, he did remember very well that he had read this Reacher book! (fle photo. Mount Orab OH. 110224)

Bob and CB are serious Scrabble (copyright til you die) players. No mirth can shake the Earth on which they take their firm stand against four letter mediocrity. (fle photo. Mount Orab OH. 110224)

When Scrabblers retire, it's only a time to sweep extraneous stuff under the rug so they can concentrate on the worthwhile stuff, like Scrabble (copyright til you die) and reading and bragging. On a normal Thursday 4-way bragging is not an unusual spectable. (fle photo. Mount Orab OH. 110224)

Afterwords once again gathered the Lunchbunch together at the Mount Orab branch of the Brown County Library, always warm and welcoming plus they have some great used books on sale so that I can irritate the hell outa CB. Reading one – a fictionalized version of the President Bill and Monica get-together.

Bob now owes me $510,000. Yes, folks, that’s right: five hundred and ten thousand smackeroos. And it has nearbouts broke his little ole heart knowing his new car is going, instead, into my gasoline account for Tranq the Van.  His latest 85-thou loss was particularly tough for him to lose when he discovered, to his dismay, that the Mercury automobile is no longer manufactured in the continental U-S of A or anywhere else on Planet Earth (Scouting teams have been dispatched to Mars and Venus).

CB won two games. I won 1. And I don’t remember how Willie and Bob went. I do know one of them won 2 and the other won 1. As time goes by it is becoming increasingly apparent parity has arrived at the Lunchbunch. Parity, folks!

Going home to Cincinnati to find rain-slicked roads, glaring headlights and ugly buildings rising through one of Edgar Allan Poes mists of the peat bog. (fle photo. Cincinnati OH. 110224)

Passing a Coca Cola truck in the twilight of a damp day on Interstate 71 in downtown Cincinnati OH. (fle photo. 110224)

No, VIrginia, we'll have no more of that jolly old saint nick; he was attacked by a vampire last Thursday. What a shame. What an unspeakably bloody crime. (fle photo. Western Hills. Cincinnati OH. 110224)

Written by frankieleeee

March 6, 2011 at 5:45 pm