Mouth to Mouth

Happy New Year to my readers (both of you).

Was a solid holiday weekend for la familia Briscoe. Headed to Corsicana for an evening with a honky tonk band at the VFW hall. People assume that because I don't drink and barely dance I'm having a bad time, but 'twas not so. Good for people watching, visiting. A story told to us by family friend Allen:

At dinner one night, as he and his wife dined on a roast, she kept slipping their dog pieces of meat. He said he'd warned her against doing it, but to no avail.

The dog started coughing, gagging. Next think you know, BOOM--he fell down and out, choking. Soon the dog stopped breathing. Allen fetched some pliers and retrieved a big, unchewed piece of roast from the dog's throat. His wife was upset, the dog was not moving, and suddenly he realized that he had to at least try...

So he gave the dog a few puffs of air via mouth to mouth.

And the dog came back to life!

Allen said it got him three days of the best lovin' he's ever had. The fourth day things went back to normal. He said next time the dog stays dead.

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"When I first sit down [in his office], I think Jesus Christ, I don't want to work, the sun is shining, I want to go out. Ten minutes later, I don't know that I'm working, I don't even know that I'm alive." T. Coraghessan Boyle

(Thanks Michael)

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Got myself a speedbag, and I've been pounding on it most every day. Thus far I set the buzzer for 15 minutes with a goal of just keeping it going as much as possible. I don't have fancy techniques at this point (Whit's sending me a video for that), but after a few days I've gotten to where I can get a good rhythm going for a while. It's a pretty good little workout.

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Correction in the Boston Globe:

"Because of a reporting error, Dr. Arleigh Dygert Richardson III, former teacher at Lawrence Academy in Groton, was described in his obituary yesterday as favoring tacky pants with tweed jackets and Oxford shirts. Dr. Richardson favored khaki pants."

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I've got a stinking cold now. I've just taken my third type of medicine in the last 18 hours. Benadryl didn't help much, nor did Claritin-D. We'll see how Sudafed does.

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It rained like crazy here all night. I swear I saw animals pairing up two by two.

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Enjoyed some really trashy TV Saturday evening: Dog the Bounty Hunter. Oh man is it freaky. He's a big ex-con who hunts down guys who jump bond on him. Lots of blonde hair, biceps, tattoos, and Jesus.

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Surreal moment from the VFW wingding Friday night: The band (no idea what their name is), after an evening of country songs, suddenly went into the blues warhorse "Stormy Monday" just prior to midnight. I appreciated hearing a blues song, but... they should stick with country. That guitar player was good, but he was no blues player.

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Ya'll have a good week.

Hack, snort.