Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Thursday, December 05, 2013
IT'S RAINING MEN
Snaggle Tooth posted an interesting fellow on her blog and inspired me for my post. Perhaps I can arrange to add her guy to my collection. The fellow pictured with me below is Dexter. My sister, (worried that I would never remarry after being single 21 years) gave him to me for my 50th birthday. We had to hide him because he terrified my grandson Dillon who was a toddler at the time. Thankfully Ron came along a couple of years later and saved me and Dillon from Dexter.
Dexter and Granny Annie
Then, of course, you might also remember Vincent who stands guard around here.
If I can get that Postal guy then I'll have no shortage of men around the place to look out for me.Maybe ST's guy can teach my rural postal carrier, Crazy Dave, a thing a two about delivering the mail.