Dear Mister Ed

If I recall it rite, it was that young lad Forest Gumpp that said “Life is like a crate of onions. You don’t know what you got till you start peelin’.”

Thats kinda how it seems hereabouts of late, with Eva all hett up to become a one womman food bank and fix the hole climatic change problem whilst shes at it.

Come dinner time last Sunday she sprung a new noshun on us, sayin’ she dont plan to heat the house at all this winter.

“For glory sake this ain’t the Artick, its prackticly the San Wann Islands” she says “and if its warm enuff fer the Spanyards, it cant do us much harm.”

Then she tells I and Walt that if it turns chilly we can stir our stumps a bit. Elsewise she says, we can allways find a nother layer of duds to put on.

The next bomshell she drops is that from now on she wont allow the consumpshun of red meat anywheres on the island.

“Red meat is pluggin’ up yer artrys and killin’ us all” she says. Not to menshun what all that pig poo and bull burpin’ is doin’ to the O Zone layer.

About now I’m startin’ to think the old gals fixin’ to go vegganite and turn us out to graze on the lawn. But then she says she don’t mind if we eat fish now and then, or even the odd chickin, so long as its raised up like one of the fambly.

So now I and Walt have a new buildin’ projeckt on the go.

Mind you, betwixt us we seen the earth go round more’n 150 times, and the both of us is so gibbled up with the Arthur-itis we ain’t the fastest things on two legs.

But in the next cuppla weeks we plan to turn haff the tennis court into a green house fer beddin’ plants, and the rest into a big hen house and play yard fer the chickins Eva wants to get come spring.

Speakin’ on chickins, I got a Chrismass card this week from my Anny Lake naybors, Wilferd and Merna, with a dandy pitcher of they and there grinny kids Danny and Moon.

It made me desperate home sick fer the Youcon, I tell you.

Merna says they put the last of my hens in the stew pot a few days back and the local kyotes did’nt get nary a nibble all year.

Of coarse the big deal fer Merna this time of year ain’t Chrismass so much as gettin’ set fer the big Youcon bird count at New Years.

She also ast if I dont plan on usin’ my cabbin this winter wud it be OKay if her Momma was to move in from Haynes Junkshun and hunker down there a spell?

After all them fine folks done fer me, it took me all of a nanny second to agree. So thats whats up with that, leastwise fer now.

About The Author

Leave a Comment

Scroll to Top