Monday, September 26, 2016

. . . Outta Here!

We're gone
We packed our stuff
We closed down the house
We loaded our new home
We used a hitch
We didn't pitch a fit

We're on the road
We couldn't wait to be on the road again
We don't have a forwarding address
Saying goodbye is always such a mess
Such a wet-eyed thing to do . . .

So we turned off the lights
We buried the key
There'll be no hug-me-hards between me and you
Honest to goodness friends stick like glue
We never needed howdy dos
So I won't say "I'll be seein' you" 

Limner 'n The Fat Chick are out the door
We nailed shut the windows with a bunch of two by fours
We're gone
We're done
We're drivin' on
Into the sun.
We had fun.
Thanks, y'all!

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Are . . .

. . . moving on.

We, the Fat Chick and I, have pulled up stakes . . .

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Posted 2nd June 2015 by Limner

Redux:  "Eggs press Mail from a Free Range Chicken"

Water, water, everywhere, and nary a drop you'd want to drink! The post office boasts about how neither rain nor snow etc,. will stop them from delivering mail. Well, ha! They weren't in Texas when they wrote that. Recently, people were takin' on water, gettin' ready to float. It rained for twenty-two consecutive days in Austin. Bless their hearts. A coffin encased in a concrete vault escaped its six foot confines. Had I been her spouse, I'd still be running, seeing as how hers was the only coffin that made it to the road. And then the waters receded, leaving her stranded. Poor thing. I tell you, it was some kind of wet in the land of blue bonnets. Hope my fellow Texans are safe and dry now. 

The Honda is a work horse that knows how to tread water. It can find its way to the post office on its own if it had to, but I helped. And, lo! there was mail. A postcard. A little worse for the rain, it was a happy sight for sore eyes. We hadn't heard from our little free ranger in some time. People would call or text, saying they could have sworn they saw her, or a chick that looked an awful lot like her in some out of the way place in the state. I refused to worry. As long as she wasn't on tv with that creepy Colonel Sanders singing about "chicken in da beans" I knew she's be okay. She knows where home is. But, oh, how happy I am! The chick's all right. Do you reckon she's hitchin' now? Surely she wouldn't steal a bike, seeing as how her feet can't reach the pedals.

Oh, I see! Some kind soul let her ride in a comfy basket lined with straw. Yep, a clear sign that she's still in Texas. I wonder who took the picture. It's a view from an entirely different perspective. But it's her.  

Time to grab a map and find the post office in Chickenchit, TX., since she's headed that way. I hope a card from me will get there ahead of her. "Hmm. "Let me see," said the blind man. All I can do is try. Will tell her y'all said hey.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Let Us Live Well & Prosper & Write On

. . . or just work harder at being good, and prosperity will be the reward. You might want to rethink that greeting, Spock. Oh, wow! Did you know the meaning of his two fingers and a lone thumb salute? Google it! Oh, wow. Live and learn. 

I am so excited! I found the Star Trek stamps. Yes I did! Okay, okay, okay! I'm laughing so hard!!! I couldn't even get the Vulcan's quote right. It's "live long and prosper." I sure don't want to be old and prosper unless I'm well enough to enjoy my prosperity. Live too long and you'll run out of everything, including the very notion of wanting to live well in the first place. 

Never ever ever play with reflux; especially if medications on an empty stomach are involved. Four Tums dissolved on the back of my tongue helped a little. Honey gargles worked, but I had to repeat and repeat and repeat. Don't think the pain will go away on its own. It won't. The acid eats into tissue, it causes infection, the infection spreads until there's a rainbow of mucus and blood involved; then there's fluid behind both ear drums, and the infection spreads to your sinus cavity, and you cough hard enough to shoot a fur ball across a room. Those marble-size gobs of mucus look like fur balls! You'll have chills and fever, a headache, eye aches, no appetite and such sharp pain in your throat you'll pray for tonsillitis as a consolation prize. You'll get one prescription that costs $175, but ask for the generic. The other three cost only a fraction of the first one. Take all four and be thankful for health insurance. Oh, be careful with the nasal spray because it creates sores  and nosebleeds. Two of the four scripts warn of dizziness. You might not be able to tell the difference since you're already dizzy from the ear thing. And don't forget to ask the new doctor why she's giving you a prescription that has aspirin in it when your chart clearly warns that aspirin causes your tongue, mouth, face and throat to swell. But, keep this in mid:  Doctors practice medicine. Well, since they start out practicing on cadavers, think carefully. Be alert. Be your own best advocate if you don't want to become a future cadaver. Hell, I watched Frankenstein in "Penny Dreadful." You might choke Artie but you won't choke me.

And there you have it. Just for good measure:  I'm sick and tired of being sick. "The wages of sin are sickness and death." "Live long and prosper." Well, Spock is dead. I guess that leaves me to live on and stay well. It's not easy being me. But y'all sure make it easier with your good, fun, creative mail and lovely letters. I love it when you talk to me! One of the most well written letters from today made me sit up straighter and . . . 

I'll tell you the end of this tale later. Or maybe not. You have to be as weary of hearing about my challenges as I am of living them, but every difficult story has a great ending. Right? Right? Sure it does. It ain't good mail if it doesn't have a P.S., right?

All is well in Limnersville, Texas. 

Let us write on.

As sincerely as it gets,


Thursday, September 8, 2016

Tally Ho!

While tidying up my countless mail photos in iPhoto, I couldn't help but wonder how many pieces of mail I've sent since OWM's inception. The idea of a guesstimation total was overwhelming, not counting mail that's been archived, not photographed or stored digitally. So I chose to tally August's mail. The correct count is well over 65. Including the Christmas in July mail campaign isn't fair, so I'll stand up with 65+. 

Five easy pieces went out yesterday, and you could have knocked me over with a piece of lint. My box was empty! Shocked, I forgot to mail a package. Truth is, I didn't want to stand in a line five deep and have to stand behind a woman who reeked of perfume. I forgot about it today. There's tomorrow.

I wonder how many stamps I've used to date. 

I wonder how many stamps I've received? Thanks, Jean! Orange is the perfect color for September. That cancelation wave seems designed to be part of your envelope. The perfect placement.

I've finally forgiven Moleskin for their less than stellar pages. The paper isn't what it used to be; neither is the price--another less-for-more that seems to be the slogan for the times. The paper makes Copic colors look like watercolor now. It's time to replenish my white Gel Pen stock. They're one product that gives a bang for a buck every single time. They last, they don't clog . . . They're affected by humidity but what isn't? 

I don't think nonprofits should have special stamps. And they should pay what we, the people pay. Stamps aren't expensive. Yes, it feels like I'm beating a dead horse again. Perhaps they would spam us less if they paid more. That sure makes me regret contributing to charities--they beg the heck out of you, pass your name along to other beggars, while they could use some of the money I give them, for postage. I'd give more if they did. 

I don't think I'll stop feeling this way about it any time soon.

I might keep a tally of the times I look at a mail photo and wish I'd blown away all signs of eraser dust from my keyboard and desk. Another clever tally would be all about the number of times I use black envelopes. Probably not. You never know though.

Another tally. How many __________ books have I ordered from Amazon, only to be ______ __________ upon examination? Starting September's mail tally would be more productive, don't you think? So, here's my call to attention! Ho-o-o! Tally ho!

tally |ˈtalēnoun (pl. tallies
current score or amount: that takes his tally to 10 goals in 10 games.• record of a score or amount: I kept a running tally of David's debt on a note above my desk.• a particular number taken as a group or unit to facilitate counting.• a mark registering a number or amount.• (also tally stick) historical a piece of wood scored across with notches for the items of an account and then split into halves, each party keeping one.• an account kept on a tally stick.hointerjection1. (used as a call to attract attention, sometimes speciallyused after a word denoting a destination): Westward ho! Land ho! 2. (used as an exclamation of surprise or delight.)
Are you as delighted by your mail tally as I seem to be? Surprised? Keep it up!  Or, tally ho!

Monday, September 5, 2016

The Limner Is In

I knew I forgot something!

I noticed more yellow going out these days. And Pamela influenced the angle Berd Woman writes from. Wow. It's that book. I'm still so much obliged. I pulled a Vermeer from a shelf. I'd give a lot to be so well schooled in the use of light and shadow. I'd probably paint my letters instead, if I were. 

Two letters went out today. A parcel was delivered, and four pieces of mail are in the out box. I'm still behind but there's always tomorrow. Slow mail is good mail. Better mail? Just plain mail? Okay. Slow mail is still mail. Besides, what's the rush? All who labor are not necessarily wage earners.

Happy Labor Day.