Sep 22nd 2015 Cold Comfort
Have I told you this story? When I ask you something like that, I’m not joking. I strive to be correct and accurate with all I post here, but I regard this as our morning conversation. I’m not going to take a lot of time to search the archives to make sure I never repeat myself, because that’s what friends do. They swap the same old stories. And yes, as a handy example, the “Indian Summer’ artwork of the previous post has run here before, not long ago. Anyway, when I was a boy the family dog was a terrier named Spooks. We fed Spooks Ken-L Ration dogfood (I can still sing the jingle!), but she was never a voracious eater. What she didn’t consume, Mama would cover with foil and put in the back of the refrigerator. My father, a dedicated midnight snacker, unwittingly consumed Spooks’ leftover supper one night, and the next day when he asked my mother what it was he’d eaten she told him. Without batting an eye, he simply said, “I thought it was a little mealy.” As I know I have said before, there was a lot of Arlo in my father.