Hello Kramer

Yesterday morning, up before the dawn. I was standing in the drive for the trailer park, and another resident was just returning in from an evening of work. His date [girlfriend?] says, “Hello Kramer,” kissed me on the back of my hand, and I was ready to go fishing. There’s an old saying that suggests, “A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work.” I didn’t catch a thing. My Virgo buddy, he caught, well, he got one. The fish weren’t biting, but the early dawn, the sparse clouds drifting over the sun, the dappled surface of the lake, and a lone osprey, making off with catch of the day. It was better than work. We stopped in Bastrop for some late lunch, on the way home. BBQ at Cartwirght’s. Then, last night, I’ve got what I call a “visiting dignitary” [Leo, from California] — in town for some real Texas music, some country music, and the flavor of Austin. Tourists are a good thing. I get to go to places I never usual go to. Like the Continental Club — that legendary home of South Austin music. Saw/listened to an interesting singer/songwriter, Jim Lauderdale. Got home in time dispense with some “airport karma” with yet another red head — had to take a Capricorn to the airport this morning. Saturday morning, before noon, no fishing poles involved, now that’s a true act of giving. So that’s two mornings in a row now, I’ve been up before the dawn. I’m not sure I like this. [But I do like showing off the neighborhood to tourists — yes, it really is like I describe — “Your neighbors are quite the characters!”]