Of the Caliber of Joyce...

George's Favorite Beer in the 30 pack.

My neighbor, George, is such a good fella. Most would find fault with his excessive drinking, but he is retired and living life on his own terms. He never seems drunk or slurs his words. You can smell it on him, though. My father would die if he knew we were getting to be such good friends feeling he would be a bad influence on me.

George offered me a beer today and I waved him off. I was content with drinking my diet Coke I had just acquired from the Circle K down the street -- 69 cents of bubbly and deceptively coy soda.

"Someone rifled through my car looking for valuables the other night," George told me as we sat on his carport. "I used to never lock it, but I am from now on."

He said they didn't steal anything, but it was certainly unnerving. I learned the hard way to always lock my car and never leave the key in it. The old civil South is gone. My car was stolen on Christmas day about five years ago.

"Christmas Day!?" George exclaimed when I told him about it. "That is just downright evil."

Yes, Another Grocery Day Rumination...

My father's rendition of spaghetti and meat sauce.

I would really love my spaghetti and meat sauce tonight, but I don't want to mess up my kitchen and clean all those pots and pans. I do know I am getting lots and lots of breakfast foods. I missed them last week not buying much of the morning fare. For the longest time, I would get four gallons of Milos famous sweet tea, but got tired of drinking it. Now? I get my 4 gallons of milk mostly eaten with Kroger frosted flakes. The Michael Angelos Italian meals are delicious and I plan on picking up a few of those and some Boston Market meals as well.