Singing the Mikado, a Singing Saw, and Praises Sung

“Look at that full moon,” I said to the neighbor who rides his coaster bike around Country French Estates while his basset hound trots along beside on a leash.

The enormous moon ripened against a thin layer of clouds in the east.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, “makes you feel like singing the Mikado or something.”

This left me dumbfounded. Speak for yourself, buddy. Makes me feel like going out bowling.

N«N

Neighboring sweethearts Olivia and Bella joined me the other day in the backyard while I sawed limbs of ash downfall for firewood. The season’s first wet snowflakes were falling. Olivia attested to her love of snow.

“Did you come to our house on Halloween?” I asked.

No, she said, she was in the part of the neighborhood where they gave out the big candy bars.

“What was your costume?”

“I went as a shadow.”

“A shadow?”

“All dressed in gray.”

Bella, the moppet, swept snow off my saw table, reaching a little too close to the moving blade of my toothy twenty-four-inch bow saw and receiving my admonition to be careful. Did I sound too stern?

Olivia looked over and noticed the two rose bushes in our meager flower beds. She remarked on their height. I stopped sawing and glanced that way. They looked odd, still with all their leaves and standing four feet tall as snow came down.

“They’re so tall because Susan puts lots of chemicals on them,” I said.

N«N

Dr. Sloan welcomed me to the other day’s dental cleaning by saying he’d enjoyed my September DBusiness story about the GM centennial. It was just what a writer wants. Another patient in the waiting room was listening! I’d toiled alone for near a month, thinking it was an all-too-familiar story and who would want to read it? Dr. Sloan said it hit the spot for car guys, but he comes from more of a Ford background (owns a Model A roadster, ’37 two-door sedan,’57 T-Bird). He hadn’t quite realized there were such great figures in GM history. His son read it, too.

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