USMB Coffee Shop IV

[Kat]

He lives in a fancy house and has a shiney unscratched new car. Trash buys from CL, eh? And trash sells on CL too, I guess. This guy gave us the runaround just for funzies. That's ok. I hope our fifty bucks was worth it. Oh, and yes..we took the fridge back. So he got it returned to sell to some other "trash" person he will sell it to and make another 50 bucks. We placed it right in the middle of his driveway...all nice and clean cuz it was dirty when we bought it. Hell no am I going to pay to haul that thing off AND lose 50 bucks. I just hope people see my ad and karma gets his sorry ass. Which it very well might.

HAHA I am so glad you took it back!!! You said something about it in an ad on CL.....or set it for him to get calls on it or what?

 

[Foxfyre]

Good night Darlinks. I hope all sleep well. I really do love you guys.

And we continue to pray and/or send good vibes and/or keep vigil for:

Harper (Save's granddaughter),
Pogo’s friend Pat and special comfort for Pogo,
Becki and Becki’s hubby,
Mrs. O and SFCOllie,
GW's daughter, her friend Sachendra, and Sachendra's husband Bob and son Gary.
Noomi!!!
Nosmo's mom,
Ernie's stop smoking project,
Sherry’s Mom,
Rod, GW's partner,
The Ringels in difficult transition,
Kat, Mr. Kat and Kat's mom,
Boedicca's Dad,
Gracie and Mr. Gracie in a difficult transition and their Moki,
Montrovant's transition,
Foxfyre's friend Dana and Aunt Betty as we say the final goodbyes to Uncle Ed,
All of us and those we care about who are looking for work,

And the light is left on for Alan, Noomi, Freedombecki, Oddball, Spoonman, and all the others who we miss and hope to return.

 

[Gracie]

He has it listed right now. My ad is listed right above his with the warning, lol. It also includes the link to HIS ad.

 

[Kat]

He has it listed right now. My ad is listed right above his with the warning, lol. It also includes the link to HIS ad.

Ha Ha Ha !

 

[Gracie]

Other than him...everyone we have met since being here has been polite, friendly, nice, pleasant, etc. This is from the fast food places we have been visiting, post office, sears employees, gas station attendants, neighbors, bank employees, strangers on the street we pass by to go into a store or something. This one guy is the only jerk we have run across so far. Like I said...it was a lesson.

 

[Lumpy 1]

Sometimes it's nice to just kick back with old friends and have a few cups of coffee and some laughs..

... then there's this as well, if you wondered what I've been up to...

 

[Lumpy 1]

 

[gallantwarrior]

Good morning Coffee Shoppers. So here it is again my birthday and I'm waiting (2-1/2 more hours now) for my dental appointment and hopefully relief from this angry tooth or whatever it is in my jaw. We spent the evening with Aunt Betty and Uncle Ed and uncle Ed's niece, and when I went in to see him and talk to him a bit--he has been in a coma for a couple of days now--I sensed the end was very near. And just as soon as we arrived home, maybe 20 minutes after we left there, his niece called to tell me that he had passed, quietly, peacefully, blessedly. Hospice would be there shortly to take care of things, sign the death certificate, etc. No we shouldn't go back. So my birthday will be bitter sweet today. The ordeal is over, hopefully the worst of the pain will be gone, and we move into the next phase for Aunt Betty.

Happy Birthday, Foxy! And most heartfelt condolences for your loss.
I found out that my BF's mother died Sunday night. This may be a bit weird, but my vet told me once that most animals will die either just before winter comes, or in the early spring (after they've made it through he winter).

 

[Foxfyre]

View attachment 90459

Lumpy 1 !!!!! So happy to see you. Hope all is well with you and your new career (cough) is working out for you. Seriously so happy you dropped by.

 

[Foxfyre]

I'm off to the Dentist to complete this procedure. Pray for me.

 

[Hossfly]

I'm off to the Dentist to complete this procedure. Pray for me.

Hope you didn't go on an empty stomach. Here, have some breakfast.

​

 

[peach174]

Happy Wed. All!!

I'm still learning how to upload funny pics from the web, on my new kindle, so no funny pics today.

The kindle is to heavy for me to hold for long periods of time for reading, so I still use my nook reader, but the kindle is great for watching things on Netflix,hulu and games.

 

[Nosmo King]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up the dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

 

[gallantwarrior]

Morning greetings CSers!
Proctoring my first test of the semester this morning. It's short and sweet and they should be done fairly quickly. Then we're off to the hanger for a heater lab. Funny thing is, if their heaters won't start and run right away, I won't allow students to move to another test stand to a heater that has worked for other students. The lesson here is, if a pilot brings in an airplane and tells you his heater isn't working, you had better be able to find out what's wrong and fix it, stat. In real life, you don't get to use someone else's project.
It's full-on Fall here, leaves coming down and that golden-yellow tint to the sunlight (when we get sunlight). The only thing missing are the colder temps. It's been high 50s, low 60s here the past week. It hasn't even gone below freezing at night yet. I'm not complaining, though.
Was out practicing with Ho'-zilla this weekend. I'm getting proficient at making big holes because I haven't figured out how to knock the dirt off the tree stumps yet. I also suspect I may want to rebuild the hydraulic pump before next Spring. Everything works, but it could work better, I think. Any time equipment sits unused for extended periods of time, starting it up and making it work again will cause things to show that they need some TLC. This machine will definitely ease my life, most certainly.

 

[gallantwarrior]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

 

[peach174]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

That's exactly what I thought also !

I would have said a prayer for the beautiful creature and thanked the creator who supplied a wonderful meal.

 

[Nosmo King]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

That's exactly what I thought also !

I would have said a prayer for the beautiful creature and thanked the creator who supplied a wonderful meal.

I realize the prospect of a rabbit dinner appeals to some of you. I live in the heart of white tail deer country and many of my friends and neighbors will have a buck or doe hanging from a tree in their yards come late November and deer season.

I have never hunted. As my Brooklyn friend Lucille would say, "A salute" to the hunters. Go with God and be safe.

Wild game was never presented on our dinner table. Not for an aversion to it, but our collective ignorance on the proper methods of dressing and preparing it.

Twenty odd years ago, as we built the Greater Pittsburgh Area International Airport, my job was to over see the removal of a hazardous waste landfill just west of the site. A company began disposing of the most God awful chemicals in a ravine back in the 1970s. There it laid until a developer decided to construct a hotel and restaurant complex at the new airport.

One of the scariest things I found there was a barrel of naphthalene. Naphthalene is a coal tar derivative used in every thing from the familiar (mothballs) to the exotic (high tech cleaning solutions). Once naphthalene is exposed to air transforms from an amber liquid to a dark brown solid looking like beer bottle glass.

I would watch deer licking up that naphthalene every morning as I did paper work and prepared sampling kits for the day. I figured some hunter would eventually shoot, kill and eat that deer. I knew he would not have much of a taxidermy bill to pay as the epidermis of that deer would be pretty much preserved given the amount of naphthalene it consumed. I wonder if any hunter did bag that deer? I wonder if that hunter has a second head growing from his neck today?

 

[peach174]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

That's exactly what I thought also !

I would have said a prayer for the beautiful creature and thanked the creator who supplied a wonderful meal.

I realize the prospect of a rabbit dinner appeals to some of you. I live in the heart of white tail deer country and many of my friendbors will have a buck or doe hanging from a tree in their yards come late November and deer season.

Pnted. I have never hunted. As my Brooklyn friend Lucille would say, "A salute" to the hunters. Go with God and be safe.

Wild game was never presented on our dinner table. Not for an aversion to it, but our collective ignorance on the proper methods of dressing and preparing it.

Twenty odd years ago, as we built the Greater Pittsburgh Area International Airport, my job was to over see the removal of a hazardous waste landfill just west of the site. A company began disposing of the most God awful chemicals in a ravine back in the 1970s. There it laid until a developer decided to construct a hotel and restaurant complex at the new airport.

One of the scariest things I found there was a barrel of naphthalene. Naphthalene is a coal tar derivative used in every thing from the familiar (mothballs) to the exotic (high tech cleaning solutions). Once naphthalene is exposed to air transforms from an amber liquid to a dark brown solid looking like beer bottle glass.

I would watch deer licking up that naphthalene every morning as I did paper work and prepared sampling kits for the day. I figured some hunter would eventually shoot, kill and eat that deer. I knew he would not have much of a taxidermy bill to pay as the epidermis of that deer would be pretty much preserved given the amount of naphthalene it consumed. I wonder if any hunter did bag that deer? I wonder if that hunter has a second head growing from his neck today?

With all due respect, it was not about hunting. I also am not a hunter.

It was about a one in gazillion shot and a gift from our creator. The way I see it.
It's too bad you did not accept the learning opportunity he gave to you all, to expand your knowledge.

 

[Nosmo King]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

That's exactly what I thought also !

I would have said a prayer for the beautiful creature and thanked the creator who supplied a wonderful meal.

I realize the prospect of a rabbit dinner appeals to some of you. I live in the heart of white tail deer country and many of my friendbors will have a buck or doe hanging from a tree in their yards come late November and deer season.

Pnted. I have never hunted. As my Brooklyn friend Lucille would say, "A salute" to the hunters. Go with God and be safe.

Wild game was never presented on our dinner table. Not for an aversion to it, but our collective ignorance on the proper methods of dressing and preparing it.

Twenty odd years ago, as we built the Greater Pittsburgh Area International Airport, my job was to over see the removal of a hazardous waste landfill just west of the site. A company began disposing of the most God awful chemicals in a ravine back in the 1970s. There it laid until a developer decided to construct a hotel and restaurant complex at the new airport.

One of the scariest things I found there was a barrel of naphthalene. Naphthalene is a coal tar derivative used in every thing from the familiar (mothballs) to the exotic (high tech cleaning solutions). Once naphthalene is exposed to air transforms from an amber liquid to a dark brown solid looking like beer bottle glass.

I would watch deer licking up that naphthalene every morning as I did paper work and prepared sampling kits for the day. I figured some hunter would eventually shoot, kill and eat that deer. I knew he would not have much of a taxidermy bill to pay as the epidermis of that deer would be pretty much preserved given the amount of naphthalene it consumed. I wonder if any hunter did bag that deer? I wonder if that hunter has a second head growing from his neck today?

With all due respect, it was not about hunting. I also am not a hunter.

It was about a one in gazillion shot and a gift from our creator. The way I see it.
It's too bad you did not accept the learning opportunity he gave to you all, to expand your knowledge.

Nevertheless, we would have no idea how to clean and prepare a dead rabbit. Our meat opportunities have always come by the grace of a butcher.

 

[peach174]

This would have been Pop's 83rd birthday. I went out to the cemetery last evening with the cordless weedwacker, a bouquet of cut flowers and a bottle of water. I trimmed around the stone and swept away the trimmings as an umpire would sweep the dirt from home plate. I cleaned out the bronze vase and filled it with the flowers and water. Then I took some time to remember Pop.

I've told you about his passion for gardening. Pop planted a big backyard vegetable garden and guarded it jealously. He was up near the Big House, about seventy five feet from the garden when he spotted a rabbit eyeing up his crop of lettuce.

Pop picked up a stone from the mulched area around the deck. Like David aiming at Goliath, Pop watched that pesky rabbit as it took a bite from a head of lettuce. Pop threw the stone to dissuade the bunny from eating the vegetables meant for our dinner table. The rock found its mark hitting the rabbit square in the head! The hare flopped on its right side, his legs kicked a few times, and then oblivion. The rabbit was dead.

Pop turned to me with the most curious look on his face. A perfect mixture of surprise, triumph and regret. The kind of expression a young boy would have if he had just punted a football farther than intended and watched it shatter a plate glass window.

Pop hung his head and marched toward the garden shed. He fetched a shovel and gingerly pick up e dead rabbit with it. He acted as the bunny's lone pall bearer as he carried it down through the lawn and into the wooded ravine on the north side of the property.

Pop did not speak of his lethal throw the rest of the day. But such a restriction was not imposed on me and my brother. We bragged up Pop's arm, accuracy and cold blooded manner as he dispatched the rabbit.

A few weeks later, Pop rlented and accepted our praise. He was quite literally, a gentle man.

Dang! I would have added that rabbit to some fresh veggies and made a stew of it all. Shouldn't waste good meat, yanno!

That's exactly what I thought also !

I would have said a prayer for the beautiful creature and thanked the creator who supplied a wonderful meal.

I realize the prospect of a rabbit dinner appeals to some of you. I live in the heart of white tail deer country and many of my friendbors will have a buck or doe hanging from a tree in their yards come late November and deer season.

Pnted. I have never hunted. As my Brooklyn friend Lucille would say, "A salute" to the hunters. Go with God and be safe.

Wild game was never presented on our dinner table. Not for an aversion to it, but our collective ignorance on the proper methods of dressing and preparing it.

Twenty odd years ago, as we built the Greater Pittsburgh Area International Airport, my job was to over see the removal of a hazardous waste landfill just west of the site. A company began disposing of the most God awful chemicals in a ravine back in the 1970s. There it laid until a developer decided to construct a hotel and restaurant complex at the new airport.

One of the scariest things I found there was a barrel of naphthalene. Naphthalene is a coal tar derivative used in every thing from the familiar (mothballs) to the exotic (high tech cleaning solutions). Once naphthalene is exposed to air transforms from an amber liquid to a dark brown solid looking like beer bottle glass.

I would watch deer licking up that naphthalene every morning as I did paper work and prepared sampling kits for the day. I figured some hunter would eventually shoot, kill and eat that deer. I knew he would not have much of a taxidermy bill to pay as the epidermis of that deer would be pretty much preserved given the amount of naphthalene it consumed. I wonder if any hunter did bag that deer? I wonder if that hunter has a second head growing from his neck today?

With all due respect, it was not about hunting. I also am not a hunter.

It was about a one in gazillion shot and a gift from our creator. The way I see it.
It's too bad you did not accept the learning opportunity he gave to you all, to expand your knowledge.

Nevertheless, we would have no idea how to clean and prepare a dead rabbit. Our meat opportunities have always come by the grace of a butcher.

You never had access to a Library ?