Blogging from my front porch

My Sunday ritual (when allowed – perhaps 5 or 6 time a year, I guess Fathers day qualifies) is to take my coffee and local Sunday rag on the front porch, I’ll usually finish the rag before the first mug - the New York Times it’s not – which sort of explains why I’m blogging from my front porch

Sanatorium Sanctum lies near the end of the road about 3 miles from town and during the morning hours my front porch can be quite nice - at moment it’s a pleasant low 80’s (still in shade) but it will be likely reach into the 90’s before the day is out. Watched one of the cats chase something in the oak leaves on the hill, then the turkeys paraded through a bit later - that same cat, who adopted us a few years ago whom daughter christened Bart, later amended to PsychoBart, attempted a few times to attack the Turkeys – that and his wrath when not worshiped in a manor to his pleasure necessitated the amendment. My uphill neighbor (the Judge) just returned from his ride (victim of a mid life crisis, he bought a new HD sportster a few years ago, it balances out I suppose, his wife works in the ER)

Last night we hosted a party for son (the rock god in training) at one of the local halls – 6 bands, about 100 showed up (based on the amount collected, but there were a bunch that didn’t pay) Punk-a-billy was the style (if you don’t know - don’t ask) – this is the 14 - 17 year old NorCal skateboard crowd, dressed and made up such that I could do a month of fugs if I’d taken the camera, scary enough looking that the straights avoided the crowd on the sidewalk, yet as polite and (mostly) courteous as one can expect from that age group in the best of behavior (just don’t go into the mosh)