CAUTION----WIMMIN' MAY GIVE AWAY YOUR STUFF!

CAUTION---WIMMIN' MAY GIVE AWAY YOUR STUFF

MY OLD COLLECTOR'S MINNOW BUCKET WAS 

   WORTH FIVE BILLS! EASY!

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Boys, there's no getting around it---the old planet

would be 95% less interesting, challenging, and 

exciting without our wimmin'.

Without them, it would hardly be worth it at all. 

Just the LILT in their voices, when they talk and

laugh is almost miraculous...and have you ever 

noticed the glee with which they greet each other 

at the door, say? Amazing. A genius bit  of creation!

And what about their baking...yes Boys...BAKING!!

Have you ever been pooped out in the fall from 

Saturday chores and you've settled in with football

and your team is down 49-3 and your woman 

glides into the room and announces: "I suddenly

got the 'baking urge' and am making a BIG PAN

of BROWNIES!!!"

VOILA, EUREKA, PINCH ME BOYS! A MIRACLE.

Like: "The moment we men were put here on Earth

for!"

Ah, but there's always a little (or big) drawback

with baking. Somehow at creation, the baking 

gene and the philanthropic gene in wimmin' got

intertwined...

ERGO: BAKE...AND GIVE IT AWAY. "You can 

have a big piece and then I'm taking the rest over 

to Mildred, whose dog has been sick for a week!

She has had a hard time."

All that being said...it gets worse! All my stuff is 

disappearing! It's true.First thing ya know, I myself

could disappear. If spring cleaning keeps coming

around, I won't have any stuff left.

That's why my attic is important. So far, it has 

escaped the loss of stuff. The old beat-up USMC

K-Bar stickin' right there in the side of the bookshelf

seems to stake my claim on my whole cozy heaven-of-

a-room---as if a sign were saying: "UP HERE, HANDS

OFF---IT'S ALL MIL'.S STUFF!"

As in: "DON'T EVEN TOUCH MY SPAM," if'n you run 

out of hors d' oeuvres at the wimmins' party, 

downstairs!

You think I'm blowing smoke? Well, my beloved DUCK

decoys, covered with dried Rio Grande mud are 

gone...Gary got 'em. (a good guy--Gary)  But those 

decoys were more'n  plastic ducks---they were friends 

and we remembered old wading times together---talkin' 

up there in the attic...when I was agile, and could wade 

the old river, quicksand and all---loaded with stuff...But 

alas, they're gone...a piece of me...

Then there were the newly-leather-upholstered 

stadium seats, that we sat on until they wore out, 

and were re-done---watching our son Alan kick field 

goals for UNM on many cold, (and one snowy,) 

Saturdays. Ah yes,  that stadium climb got to be too

much for me...the church sold our seats for missions...

What about my dozen hunting arrows, all racked in

a carrier, ready to climb five thousand feet into the 

Manzano Mountains and hunt deer or call coyotes... 

they went to charity...

My two once-excellent office chairs, with the web 

upholstery...well the hydraulics slipped on both of

those comfortable made-in-China chairs...and I was

gonna fix 'em both someday...and they sat on the

back patio covered with a tarp...and one went to

charity...and who knows...did a hobo get the other?

Some guys I know have LOST practically brand new

stuff at spring cleaning time...not to be critical here,

but it pays to be alert.

But what would we ever amount to without our 

wimmin'---the joys of the world.

They can't help it. Their very genes cry out against

STUFF! And that's okay, but please, not just MY

stuff!

Boys, just a tip. Keep an eye on your new TONY

LAMAS...and your BUCK KNIFE!

*********************

Glossary---WIMMIN'...an extremely endearing term,

  thought to have originated in Florida, USA--- which

  elevates the fairer sex to its highest pedestal,

   far above "women" or "ladies." It is practically

   a term of worship.

***********************

BY MIL

MIL'S PLACE

12/06/15

...with a modicum of 

   humor...