I can't think of one.

I really don't have a clue what I am writing about. I'm hoping it will come spilling out as I type. Is this really typing? I mean there's a keyboard... wait a minute. I'm not going to go off on that stupid tangent.

A couple of nights ago I heard the ice cream truck coming down the street. The weather is still pretty nice and someone might still want an ice cream but my first reaction when I heard that annoyingly creepy version of "Turkey in the Straw" or in the hay or where ever the turkey chills was ,"Oh go away! It's over!"
I know the person driving the truck is just trying to make a buck, but after three months of this truck slowly creeping, with the creepy music, up the street, between 6 and 6:30, every night for over 90 days plus, it's time for him to go away.

I do remember when I was a kid and I heard the canned music coming up the street, my mind went vacant as all thoughts were swept aside but one. Ice cream! Reacting like a trained animal, triggered by the music, I and I would guess most of the kids in the neighborhood, would rush to a parent begging for money because the ice cream man was coming! There were a lot of kids in my neighborhood. There aren't too many in my present neighborhood. All those kids are now aging baby boomers, closing in towards, hopefully, retirement. I do find myself thinking and saying things my parents used to say. The other night I was watching the news on my least favorite station. Why? I don't know. This is the station with all the flashy graphics and everything is "Breaking News"! There was one story they covered to death. Tom Brady, the quarterback for the New England Patriots, was involved in an early morning traffic accident in Boston.
There were endless shots of his car being put on the flatbed truck, shots of the other vehicle and shots of glass in the street. In between they interviewed people on the street. Some were witnesses, others were just asked of what they thought about the accident. The Patriots issued a statement that said Brady was fine and there would be no further comments at this time. The station had reporters all over the place and down at the stadium. They all told you the same thing, but from a different location! Now that's definitive journalism! There were 4 T.V. helicopters hovering over the stadium. What kind of information were they trying to gain by hovering over the stadium for a few hours? All the while repeating the same three shots. As I watched one guy being interviewed I said to myself, "Ahh, you just want to be on television." Then I realised my father used to say the same thing! Funny about that.

To finish up there was this woman who came to the counter. She told the guy she wanted to buy her kids some baloney. She bought it for them last year and they loved it! Imagine that! Baloney as a treat! She continued asking the guy questions as to the various qualities of each baloney. Who knew buying baloney could be so complicated? Fortunately I wasn't dealing with her. I was doing something else until I heard, "Hey Paul maybe you can help this lady with her question?"

 The question? Here we go.  "Which baloney is the most interesting?"
Lets see. The Wunderbar German Baloney is endlessly fascinating with it's thorough knowledge of English literature and the Renaissance. Slap a couple of slices on a plate, pour yourself a glass of wine and prepare yourself to be riveted. Instead I said, "The Deuthmacher German baloney is my favorite!"
Only in Cambridge.

Well I know I haven't been around for a bit. I took a break from the computer.  I have to deal with a computer at work and and sometimes it's too much. So I took a few days off. An also because I have a new toy.

It's not new but new to me. There's a bit of damage to wood surface on the headstock (where the tuning pegs are) where somebody for some reason scraped the model name decal off. Why? Anybody who knows something about electric guitars knows what it is. Apart from that it's like new. Most importantly it plays well. 
I'm typed out .
I'll be visiting around.
I'm outta here.