Adware is so ominous, it boggles the brain. After a couple of free hours on my computer, the ads were back, taking over, interfering with everything I tried to do on my computer. The company I paid, put in another half day. It gave me an evening of productive use of my computer. Then, back it came. Frustration is just a word. I wanted to pitch this computer in the garbage and I could feel steam coming out of my ears. A hell week.
It was no better this morning, as I left for an appointment with my tax man. I chose flooring at Lowes for the new house before returning home. I changed default browsers just now and I’m finally putting words on this page. Temporarily, anyway.
Not that I have anything of great import to convey, but it has been a trusty habit to communicate via these pages, and sort of journal what happens around me.
Sometimes it is misfortune that gathers families together. My cousin Bob Moore was in town with his inlaws who live in Murphys, after we had met two days earlier at a funeral for his nephew, my kid’s cousin, Barry Moore, only 48 years young.
Brother Bill and cousin, Bob Moore at the end of the table on a beautiful sunny, Sunday morning. His Mother-in-law Marilyn, daughter Leslie, and across from them, my grandson Stewart and daughter-in-law Laurie. We like to meet for brunch at the Magnolia Cafe.
This is my breakfast burrito with eggs, potatoes, beans, tomatos and turkey chorizo.
At the other end of the gathering, Leslie’s brother Brian and my son Ken. As we age we think it unfortunate that the only time we get family together is funerals and weddings.
Magnolia is a local hangout on the hiway, but I discovered this particular Sunday that the tourists have discovered it too. They tend to stay downtown, but I saw New York license plates and plenty of cars with skis on top. I complain but I shouldn’t. I know what it is like to try and make a go of a business in a small town like Murphys.
Then, on March 21st, I went downtown to check out Murphys Irish Day. They have a parade and all types of food and drink from both locals and out-of-towners who bring their wares to tempt us all.
Irish Day is now sponsored by the Community Club. They have permission from Cal-Trans to paint a couple of huge four leaf clovers on he street. It wasn’t always so. Jim Riggs, a local businessman and his buddy Bob Bliss,g four-leaf clover, and then have a whoop-de-do at his place of business with corned beef and whatever anyone wanted to share. One year, the Highway Patrol lay in wait and he was arrested, but Judge Airola dismissed the case and let him out with orders: “Do not paint the street again-this year.” After drinking a good bit of beer, the line was often pretty crooked, but we did have fun. Now, it’s a big shindig, pretty tidy and raises money for local causes.
My favorite part of Irish Days used to be the parade.
And having assisted in several of them in the past, I especially appreciate the horses. It was a struggle at times to afford the insurance to have horses in the parades, especially since some of the old cowhands, half tanked up, used to gallop at the end of the parade and then nose through the swinging doors of he Murphys Hotel and order a drink from their horse. Another arrest put a stop to that practice.
The wild has gone out of the west in some respects but we do appreciate the tidy pooper-scooper who follows the horses and puts things right again.
Now my favorite part of Irish Days is the food choices. Oh, my. Where else are you going o find Asian fusion barbecue chicken on a stick and bacon wrapped bratwurst in the same booth?
And, Dogz On The Run. (Gotta feed the kids, too.)
And, chocolate dipped goodies. Hey, why not. Ever since some guy decided to deep fry a twinkie dipped and fried treats abound.
Now, let me tell you, I like ‘em all. But, poor me, I’m having a bit of stomach trouble and couldn’t eat or drink anything at the street fair. I was bummed about that.
No Ethnic group was left out.
I couldn’t manage a green beer, but green lemonade? It’s okay. But I passed.
I did some people watching…
A lot of people really get into the spirit of the day, and dress the part.
This guy told me his wife did his tattoo. Neat, with cool green shoes. St. Paddy woulda been proud if he was sober.
I might go back for that free beer. I need a sign like that.
Now this is something every good beer drinker needs for his kegger party. Yeah!
The green wig reminded me of the purple one I bought for Mardi Gras, still in the Motor Home. I should have chosen green, then it would be good for two festivals.
I looked into every booth. There were over 200 of them. These crystal pieces caught my eye because I have a friend who beads. They were quite nice, but I have enough jewelry that I already don’t wear.
I liked this multi-media painting from the Bonsack Gallery because that is how I used to swing as a kid. High enough to turn upside down. Check out the band-aid on her knee.
She and her husband are both locals. They have two galleries, one locally in Arnold. Her paintings tend to go right off the canvas.
Well, I had a lot of fun. Saw a lot of fun costumes, people and some good music.
For me, there is always something that triggers a past memory. I once had a friend, Lila Suiter, a Commander in the Navy who used to say, especially when she had one too many cocktails, “When I retire, I’m going to raise Miniature Mediterranean Donkeys.” This miniature pony reminded me of Lila. Salud! Old friend.
It was no better this morning, as I left for an appointment with my tax man. I chose flooring at Lowes for the new house before returning home. I changed default browsers just now and I’m finally putting words on this page. Temporarily, anyway.
Not that I have anything of great import to convey, but it has been a trusty habit to communicate via these pages, and sort of journal what happens around me.
Sometimes it is misfortune that gathers families together. My cousin Bob Moore was in town with his inlaws who live in Murphys, after we had met two days earlier at a funeral for his nephew, my kid’s cousin, Barry Moore, only 48 years young.
Brother Bill and cousin, Bob Moore at the end of the table on a beautiful sunny, Sunday morning. His Mother-in-law Marilyn, daughter Leslie, and across from them, my grandson Stewart and daughter-in-law Laurie. We like to meet for brunch at the Magnolia Cafe.
This is my breakfast burrito with eggs, potatoes, beans, tomatos and turkey chorizo.
At the other end of the gathering, Leslie’s brother Brian and my son Ken. As we age we think it unfortunate that the only time we get family together is funerals and weddings.
Magnolia is a local hangout on the hiway, but I discovered this particular Sunday that the tourists have discovered it too. They tend to stay downtown, but I saw New York license plates and plenty of cars with skis on top. I complain but I shouldn’t. I know what it is like to try and make a go of a business in a small town like Murphys.
Then, on March 21st, I went downtown to check out Murphys Irish Day. They have a parade and all types of food and drink from both locals and out-of-towners who bring their wares to tempt us all.
Irish Day is now sponsored by the Community Club. They have permission from Cal-Trans to paint a couple of huge four leaf clovers on he street. It wasn’t always so. Jim Riggs, a local businessman and his buddy Bob Bliss,g four-leaf clover, and then have a whoop-de-do at his place of business with corned beef and whatever anyone wanted to share. One year, the Highway Patrol lay in wait and he was arrested, but Judge Airola dismissed the case and let him out with orders: “Do not paint the street again-this year.” After drinking a good bit of beer, the line was often pretty crooked, but we did have fun. Now, it’s a big shindig, pretty tidy and raises money for local causes.
My favorite part of Irish Days used to be the parade.
And having assisted in several of them in the past, I especially appreciate the horses. It was a struggle at times to afford the insurance to have horses in the parades, especially since some of the old cowhands, half tanked up, used to gallop at the end of the parade and then nose through the swinging doors of he Murphys Hotel and order a drink from their horse. Another arrest put a stop to that practice.
The wild has gone out of the west in some respects but we do appreciate the tidy pooper-scooper who follows the horses and puts things right again.
Now my favorite part of Irish Days is the food choices. Oh, my. Where else are you going o find Asian fusion barbecue chicken on a stick and bacon wrapped bratwurst in the same booth?
And, Dogz On The Run. (Gotta feed the kids, too.)
And, chocolate dipped goodies. Hey, why not. Ever since some guy decided to deep fry a twinkie dipped and fried treats abound.
Now, let me tell you, I like ‘em all. But, poor me, I’m having a bit of stomach trouble and couldn’t eat or drink anything at the street fair. I was bummed about that.
No Ethnic group was left out.
I couldn’t manage a green beer, but green lemonade? It’s okay. But I passed.
I did some people watching…
A lot of people really get into the spirit of the day, and dress the part.
This guy told me his wife did his tattoo. Neat, with cool green shoes. St. Paddy woulda been proud if he was sober.
I might go back for that free beer. I need a sign like that.
Now this is something every good beer drinker needs for his kegger party. Yeah!
The green wig reminded me of the purple one I bought for Mardi Gras, still in the Motor Home. I should have chosen green, then it would be good for two festivals.
I looked into every booth. There were over 200 of them. These crystal pieces caught my eye because I have a friend who beads. They were quite nice, but I have enough jewelry that I already don’t wear.
I liked this multi-media painting from the Bonsack Gallery because that is how I used to swing as a kid. High enough to turn upside down. Check out the band-aid on her knee.
She and her husband are both locals. They have two galleries, one locally in Arnold. Her paintings tend to go right off the canvas.
Well, I had a lot of fun. Saw a lot of fun costumes, people and some good music.
For me, there is always something that triggers a past memory. I once had a friend, Lila Suiter, a Commander in the Navy who used to say, especially when she had one too many cocktails, “When I retire, I’m going to raise Miniature Mediterranean Donkeys.” This miniature pony reminded me of Lila. Salud! Old friend.
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