It's s-o-o-o hot . . . How hot is it? Why it's so hot. . .
. . . it's hotter'n Satan's armpits.
. . . it's hotter'n Satan's hot tub.
. . . it's hotter in hell's kitchen.
. . . it's hotter'n two rats in a wool sock.
. . . it's hotter'n two goats in a hot pepper patch.
. . . it's hotter'n a firecracker lit at both ends.
. . . it's hotter'n the hinges of Hell.
. . . it's hotter'n a whore in church
without her panties on.
. . . it's hotter'n a little red wagon.
. . . it's hotter'n a honeymoon hot.
. . . it's hotter'n a stolen tamale.
. . . it's hotter'n a a billygoat with a blowtorch.
What a way to start a hit parade, huh? The first two are mine. You'll never guess who sent the rest. LOL! If it's hotter'n it is in Texas, then it's hot. So, how hot is it in your neck of the world?
Instead of seeking cool company in a book store, I hightailed it on over to the post office. The pick-up time at Ace Hardware's post office and shipping shops is roughly 2:30; that means mail won't be picked up again until the morrow's 2:30. So I packed my bag and drove the 24 miles round-trip. I mailed five or 6 letters and 2 postcards. There were double lines in the lobby. The only reason they didn't snake through the door was because it was too hot! You had to squeeze through whole families, and babies parked on the floor in car seats. They wouldn't move unless you said, "Excuse me." I hurried up and went to my box. And guess what. I had mail! I forgot to take a photo! I saw all the goodness inside and halfway lost my mind. I hurried up and grabbed my stuff before someone else saw it and wanted some. Such a hit parade! Here's just some of what awaited me:
A new magazine subscription from Dodson, D.! I know it's from him. I can feel it.
The new one was added to this one! Dodson is a double delighter. All hugs to Dodson, D.! Thank you. My Therd Eye and I thank you. My family thanks you. My unborn grands thank you.
Such a hit. Dated July 10. These had to have been modeled after a carriage. They might not have been well padded but they sure were roomy. Oh! This is another great postcard from Randall. Yes, I failed to make it clear that the cards from yesterday's post are from the great Randall. This is a photo of Woodrow Wilson's birthplace at the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library and Museum, in Staunton, VA. I had no idea. Woodrow is one of the most boring presidents, in my bold opinion, and I didn't even know the man. History doesn't seem to think much of him either since he's seldom mentioned, but Randall said, "He was pretty remarkable." He didn't expound on why, so . . . I know. You know I'll Google him later. That is one cool ass Pierce Arrow though.
Ooh-wee, man! Here's another wonder on today's hit parade. It's dated July 6. Hmm. Wonder why it took so long? This wonder is in Luray Caverns, in Virginia. It's called "Saracen's Tent." Did you ever read "The Saracen Blade?" I used to read anything Frank Yerby wrote and this was a favorite. I've never been inside a cavern, although JC and Erin fell into liking the caves in Texas. I know, "Texas" is vague so I'll show my ignorance by saying they're in San Antonio, as I try to imagine how long it took these stalactites to form. It's a diversionary tactic. Thank you, Randall! I do like it when people include me in their travels and vacations. I am with them always.
What a cool bat stamp! Caverns and bats. Caverns and bats! I got to see me a cavern and bat.
This pretty-as-a-picture note card came with a letter dated June 19, which means I'm only a month behind by my reckoning. Hooray for down time. I penned a reply last night, mailed it today, but did not archive it. This reminds me of the book I finished night before last, "Go Call a Watchman." No, Calpurnia ain't inside. She's gone home. I think the card is too pretty for the white bar. It's titled, "Dogwood Time." Thank you MotherKitty. I see such lovely grass and flowering trees when I look out my windows. Only I see flowering crepe myrtles and other bloomers I cannot name. This is also what a Sunday feels like in my mind's eye. Thank you.
And, here's a Native angel I've been meaning to turn into a postcard. I took the photo back when film was still hot. We were at an annual "Big Time" in Asheville, NC. He probably has children of his own by now. Chances are, they're adults!
Another hit. Some good soul shipped a package and didn't solder on the shipping label. It gently peeled off and lay before me in it's almost-pristine goodness. I'm enjoying drawing all over it. I do it by spells. I picked it up again last night when I could not sleep. I'll show you more later. I am crazy about those white Gelly Rolls. I'm into recycling too. That 2 comes via someone in the post office. I wish they'd use a stamp instead.
And so it is dinner time. I bid you a good evening.