May Day! May Day! May Day!
No, it isn’t a distress call, only a reminder for you to hang that little flower basket on your neighbor’s doorknob as a welcome to happy days. Just knock and run.
Continuing last week’s story, Smoke, the wild German shepherd was discovered by Chris, the protagonist, who befriended him and eventually became his owner. It was an interesting, well-written story and afforded my discovery of a gifted author. He’s written stories about horses as well, one called “A Horse in the House,” which may be my next read.
A few days ago, I was invited for lunch to Himani, an Indian cuisine restaurant on Marine Drive in Astoria. The meal was served buffet style with everything labeled, but of course, I couldn’t remember those names. Let me just say I had basmati rice, potatoes and broccoli and some kind of flat bread which looked like a not-quite done pancake. There was rice pudding cooked with nuts and raisins and curry sauce wherever you wanted it. It left a nice hot sensation in my throat but the ice water helped. They also had chicken. I wouldn’t try it because it was red and I thought it might burn, too. Adding much to the ambience were Indian women in pretty saris — a scene from another world.
Easter Sunday, after taking a small part in the church service, I went as a dinner guest with friends to Surf Pines. We had a very nice meal, after which we talked for a couple of hours. I mostly listened because that’s the best way to learn. Seeing a herd of elk in a ravine on the way to their home was an extra bonus. They have a regular route they travel there. Our host said they have taken over the underpass of the Lewis and Clark Trail on Highway 101 near Camp Rilea. Guess that puts the kibosh on any hikes through there.
I know everyone wants to get on the marijuana bandwagon, but I’m sorry we’re thinking about it. I doubt that we can stay within the medical guidelines and not spill over into public recreational use with the possibility for accidents. Anything mind-altering can cause serious problems. Do we have to go along to get along? Sounds like a cop out to me.
I’m writing this on April 20. If my brother Tommy had lived, this would have been his 100th birthday. Egad! He was just a year younger than Freida Johnson.
I really admire Neal Maine’s photography skills, especially with birds. His capture of the courtship of Caspian terns is fantastic, showing the interplay among three of them, sharing fish. I guess one good “tern” deserves another.
Two athletes were discussing whether or not they would play baseball in heaven. They concluded that whoever died first would come back and let the other one know. Soon one guy did cross over and flew down with a word for his friend. “About baseball in heaven,” he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is there is baseball in heaven. The bad news is you’re pitching next Thursday.”