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From the Mouth of the River

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From the Mouth of the River

Refrigerator art

Christmas is the time of year when you hear from old friends and family. Most are people you haven’t heard from since last year at this time. In fact, you had forgotten a lot of them, or at least tried. Some of these people you haven’t heard from since they tried to borrow money, but they take this time to bring you up to speed on their pending divorce or that they’re getting out on work release and wonder if you could put them up for a few days or until they can find work. This, of course, would be from your drinking uncle who’s never held a job a day in his life outside of trash pick up for the sheriff’s department. Or his niece, who has three kids all under the age of three and who wants to stay with you until she finds a job.

All of this news usually comes in the form of a Christmas card with a family newsletter attached filling you in on all that’s happened since last they wrote. There will be pictures of their latest arrivals, which include dogs, kids or grandkids. All of them look like little kids or dogs from anywhere in the world and they expect you to put their pictures on your refrigerator. The ones I like most, of course, are the pictures of the babies with writing on the back saying things like, he or she has its mother’s eyes or it looks just like its father, but no one knows who he is. All of these are to be placed alongside of all those other kids on the fridge whose pictures you don’t recognize either.

  My wife, Lovie, went to every store in three cities trying to pick out the refrigerator that best matches our kitchen, and today she can’t tell you what color it is unless we take down some pictures. That’s coming to an end as we speak as there is a new refrigerator sitting in the back of my truck. Lovie is redoing our whole kitchen. There is nothing wrong with any of our appliances, it’s just that women have to do that every so often. Sorta like men needing a new truck or a new boat when there’s nothing wrong with the one they have. It’s just something we have to do.

Anyway, we’re giving the fridge to a needy person to live in or to someone who needs a fridge that works. We’ll even leave the pictures on it so they won’t have to replace them with pictures of kids their family sent. I did have to snicker this year when we received a Christmas card from some family members in Missouri. They are some distant cousins and their spouses, and standing next to one of the young ladies was her new black husband. I am putting that picture on our new fridge because this is indeed a new beginning for family as well as the state of Missouri.

As I said before, Lovie is redoing our kitchen and as much of the house as she can before I spend any more money on fishing gear. Because of my close relationship to Red Green, along with my inability as a handy man, which by the way I had to work at, she hired a hammer swinger named Rich to do the job. I soon figured out where he got that name when his chauffeur asked where he should park his limo. But I don’t deny my wife anything when it comes to our home. After all, as she pointed out, she lets me live there.

  If there’s anything excessive about our house it would be the three dining rooms. Perhaps I should explain. We have our large dining room where we eat when we have special guests such as the President, Sarah Palin, heads of state, that sort of thing. Then we have our dining room where we eat with our friends and neighbors and last but not least, the TV trays where we eat when we’re at home alone in front of the TV. The way I see it, with a half dozen more TV trays we could eliminate two rooms in our house.

   I hope you’re enjoying the New Year and received all the gifts you deserved from Santa. As it turned out we received stretch pants and just in time, too, as that turkey grease was starting to ease out through the pores of our skin. I obviously ate so much over the holidays that my stomach stretched to the point where I have to eat a half a loaf of day-old bread before I can start to eat lunch. I’m pretty sure we will loose it all by spring, just like we have for the last thirty years. Okay, maybe we will put on an inch or two like always, that’s normal, right? I had a twenty-nine inch waist when we got married and I still have it, but it’s twenty-nine on each side now. Boy, that woman can cook!

Lovie gathered up my clothes the other day and hung them in the closet and underneath all those clothes was a treadmill. “Son of a gun,” she exclaimed, “all this time I thought that was a valet.”

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Boots Reynolds Boots Reynolds The "internationally-renowned cowboy artist" Boots Reynolds has moved his comedic interpretation of life into the writing field with his regular column in the River Journal - From the Mouth of the River.

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