Thursday This and That

It's Thursday.  During these beautiful fall days, Bill figures Thursdays should be spent on the St. Joe River, fishing.

This time he left at OH-500.

That was after a night of listening to Kea bark, bark, bark.

Seems the coyotes were putting on a musical across the Selle Valley last night, and the local dogs decided to chime in.

I first heard the yip, yip, yipping around 8 p.m.   When I told Bill, he opened the front door to listen.  Then, they quit.

Must have been intermission cuz they resumed the show and kept it going clear through my morning walk.

Some coyotes way off in the distance, to the east, were still tormenting---at 6:30 a.m.--- the dogs' ears with their high-pitched singing.

So Selle was alive with canine cacophony, interrupted occasionally by a crowing rooster.

I don't know what was so special about all the singing last night, but I'm feeling pretty sure some dogs will be doing a lot of sleeping today.

And, Bill will surely sleep well when he comes home from the St. Joe.

I think there's a picture at the top of my post.  Once more, my computer is not showing it.  If it's there, the photo features some of the peaks from the Selkirk Mountains, which can be seen further north up our road.

I snapped it Tuesday while riding Lily.  

I rode her again last night and took Lefty alongside.  There was apparently a mix-up in communications cuz I thought Debbie was coming over to give Lefty a try.

But she didn't.  Since he was saddled up, we just did a "Clint Eastwood," and I talked to an empty saddle. 

Both horses did just fine with the ponying routine, except for that scary silver culvert on Selle Road.

Lefty didn't know if he liked the looks of it, but being snubbed to Lily's saddlehorn, he walked on past it, and the culvert did not bite back.

On another subject, I've been meaning to talk about kleenex one of these mornings.  So, today's as good a time as any.

I'm wondering what percentage of the budget the purchase of the monthly kleenex supply takes up at assisted care facilities.  

And, I'm wondering how many trees have to die to keep all our post nasal drip in check before we die.

After a multitude of visits with my mother over the past couple of years, I have noticed that kleenex boxes are strategically placed in care facilities-----never more than six feet away from fingers on a mission.

It makes sense too.

Yesterday while Debbie was here to drop off the dogs, the subject came up.  

So, I emptied my pockets.   Lo and behold----at least a dozen wadded up, used paper hankies came out of those pockets.

If I were to empty all the pockets of pants, coats and shirts around my house, a utility-sized garbage bag would be needed to collect the wadded up contents. 

In my case, those contents are generally NOT kleenex.  For me, a paper towel or napkin will suffice for nose-wiping purposes. 

I'm always adding to my pocket supply, just in case the used paper towels get too damp. 

And, as I sit here and type, three wadded up paper towels lie just above my keyboard.  

The wastebasket is so crammed full of used towels that I'll have to go get a garbage bag to clean off my desk. 

This all brings the question to mind.  

Why do our noses run more steadily as we grow older?  I noticed during the last few speeches I gave that the minute I'd start talking, my nose went into action.

I don't think about this subject too often----only when next desperate grab off the paper towel rack occurs (at least a dozen or so a day), but I do remain curious.  
  
If anyone has insight into this phenomenon, feel free to respond----after wiping your nose, of course. 

In the meantime, I'll do some research and find out just how much money does go into the purchase of kleenex at the care facilities.   I'll bet the answer is astounding.

The one thing I do know for sure about this subject is that my dad would be proud of me.  

His most famous saying was "Keep your nose clean."  

I think I do a pretty good job at that, and trees have died to ensure it. 

Happy Thursday.