drifter
Well-known Member
Yes, well thanks for your coment and welcome to the forum. I'm bumfuzzled by that N of 49 though.
From A Wide Spot In The Road
- Thread starter drifter
- Start date
Jules
SF VIP
The 49th Parallel.
From Wikipedia. ’Roughly 2,030 kilometres (1,260 mi)[1] of the Canada–United States border was designated to follow the 49th parallel from British Columbia to Manitoba on the Canadaside, and from Washington to Minnesota on the U.S. side, more specifically from the Strait of Georgia to the Lake of the Woods. This international border was specified in the Anglo-American Convention of 1818 and the Oregon Treaty of 1846, though survey markers placed in the 19th century cause the border to deviate from the 49th parallel by up to tens of meters.’
A few small areas are south of the 49th and even though they can only be accessed via Canada, they are in the US. Right now they’re landlocked during Covid restriction. See Point Roberts Washington.
Now I’ve learned a new word, bumfuzzled. I can hardly wait it use it in conversation. I’m not kidding, I want to use it. Thanks.
drifter
Well-known Member
Thanks.
drifter
Well-known Member
As I age I think more and more of this old couple.
They Don't Live Here No More
Once upon a time two old people lived in an old house on a street of many old houses. The old house was not a fine house or even a good house, it was just a house with some cracks in the ceiling, with windows that had stood too many tests of time against driving rains and high winds and dust storms and now suffered warped panes and rain rot and looked out upon the world in a state of dilapidation.
The once stately doors crinkled and squeaked and one had the impression they could hardly stand upright. The roof's shingles curled at the edges and some were missing and the outside paint resembled not paint at all but thousands of tiny brown leaves stuck on its walls to hide its embarrassment.
Inside the old couple greatly resembled the house where they had lived so long. They both used canes which they used to tap their way around the house, arising early they tapped their way to the kitchen, there to make the morning coffee and a solitary piece of toast for each. For many years they had eaten oatmeal with their toast and in the years of plenty they often had a strip or two of bacon to supplement their breakfast but that was long ago for the years of plenty never came around anymore. Now they were simply old grand-parents.
But it was a day of joy for word had come to them that their son and daughter-in-law and two grand children were coming for a visit. It had been a whole year. My, how the grand children must have grown, they said to each other in their excitement and anticipation.
They changed the linen on the guest room bed and tided up the bathroom and placed a glass and bottled water on the vanity for convenience and a vase of flowers from their garden on the dresser and dusted and cleaned, their canes tapping happily all bout the house as preparations were made for the coming guests.
At last the appointed time arrived and their children and grand children pulled up in their driveway. They tapped their way out onto the porch to greet the new arrivals. It was indeed a happy reunion.
Grandmother, after shopping for the anticipated visit, prepared an evening meal of fried chicken, green beans, scalloped potatoes, yeast rolls and iced tea. And in the oven, two homemade chocolate pies. Grandfather thought this a scrumptious meal and wished guests would come around more often so grandmother would have cause to prepare such a meal.
They all sat around the dinner table in their pleasant faces and with their gentle voices and talked of meals past and recalled memories of growing up in this place.
Now these times have become memories. The old house is silent. The grandparents don’t live here anymore. They have moved off life’s stage, first one, then the other, ancestors now, on their long, silent march into history.
They Don't Live Here No More
Once upon a time two old people lived in an old house on a street of many old houses. The old house was not a fine house or even a good house, it was just a house with some cracks in the ceiling, with windows that had stood too many tests of time against driving rains and high winds and dust storms and now suffered warped panes and rain rot and looked out upon the world in a state of dilapidation.
The once stately doors crinkled and squeaked and one had the impression they could hardly stand upright. The roof's shingles curled at the edges and some were missing and the outside paint resembled not paint at all but thousands of tiny brown leaves stuck on its walls to hide its embarrassment.
Inside the old couple greatly resembled the house where they had lived so long. They both used canes which they used to tap their way around the house, arising early they tapped their way to the kitchen, there to make the morning coffee and a solitary piece of toast for each. For many years they had eaten oatmeal with their toast and in the years of plenty they often had a strip or two of bacon to supplement their breakfast but that was long ago for the years of plenty never came around anymore. Now they were simply old grand-parents.
But it was a day of joy for word had come to them that their son and daughter-in-law and two grand children were coming for a visit. It had been a whole year. My, how the grand children must have grown, they said to each other in their excitement and anticipation.
They changed the linen on the guest room bed and tided up the bathroom and placed a glass and bottled water on the vanity for convenience and a vase of flowers from their garden on the dresser and dusted and cleaned, their canes tapping happily all bout the house as preparations were made for the coming guests.
At last the appointed time arrived and their children and grand children pulled up in their driveway. They tapped their way out onto the porch to greet the new arrivals. It was indeed a happy reunion.
Grandmother, after shopping for the anticipated visit, prepared an evening meal of fried chicken, green beans, scalloped potatoes, yeast rolls and iced tea. And in the oven, two homemade chocolate pies. Grandfather thought this a scrumptious meal and wished guests would come around more often so grandmother would have cause to prepare such a meal.
They all sat around the dinner table in their pleasant faces and with their gentle voices and talked of meals past and recalled memories of growing up in this place.
Now these times have become memories. The old house is silent. The grandparents don’t live here anymore. They have moved off life’s stage, first one, then the other, ancestors now, on their long, silent march into history.
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drifter
Well-known Member
I couldn't make heads or tails of the Sports section on this Forum but doesn't matter.
All I wanted to say is that Alabama beat Kentucky, Georgia beat Mike Leach's Mississippi
State Team, Number nineteen Northwestern won over number ten Wisconsin, Oregon
remained unbeaten and my little home town team who was 0-2 at the start of the season,
beat #14 Oklahoma State, in an annual game we refer to as Bedlam.
All I wanted to say is that Alabama beat Kentucky, Georgia beat Mike Leach's Mississippi
State Team, Number nineteen Northwestern won over number ten Wisconsin, Oregon
remained unbeaten and my little home town team who was 0-2 at the start of the season,
beat #14 Oklahoma State, in an annual game we refer to as Bedlam.
RadishRose
SF VIP
- Location
- Connecticut, USA
So sorry to hear this Drifter.
BTW The story yu wrote about the Grandparents although ended sadly, was well written and I could just picture them cleaning and cooking. Thanks.
Please stay safe.
BTW The story yu wrote about the Grandparents although ended sadly, was well written and I could just picture them cleaning and cooking. Thanks.
Please stay safe.
Please accept my condolences, may she Rest In Peace
@drifter
drifter
Well-known Member
That's too cold for my comfort. Twenty ddgrees here at seven-thirty this
A.M. Out my back window I am watching a black and white cat lying in
the sun in front of the bamboo. For a while she moved deeper into the
bamboo in the shade and lay for a while. Now the cat iis leaving my yard
by way of a hole in the fence back in the corner of the yard, a hole I can
not see due to the bamboo but I know it is there for in times past I have
crawled in there myself.
According to the national weather bureau or whatever it is now called,
we got slightly less than two inches of snow here in my little community.
I could have sworn we got more but then who am I to argue with an
expert organization whose business it is to tell me such things.
A.M. Out my back window I am watching a black and white cat lying in
the sun in front of the bamboo. For a while she moved deeper into the
bamboo in the shade and lay for a while. Now the cat iis leaving my yard
by way of a hole in the fence back in the corner of the yard, a hole I can
not see due to the bamboo but I know it is there for in times past I have
crawled in there myself.
According to the national weather bureau or whatever it is now called,
we got slightly less than two inches of snow here in my little community.
I could have sworn we got more but then who am I to argue with an
expert organization whose business it is to tell me such things.