Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Stories from Your Friendly Neighborhood Food World
I stopped down at the foot of the hill this morning to pick up a meaty breakfast snack and a cold, refreshing Diet Coke from the grocery store, and as I was paying for my victuals I noticed the screen at the cash register flashed something odd-looking. After I got my receipt and walked out, I glanced down at it, and sure enough, at the very bottom:
"PLEASE CALL IF WE CAN BE OF ASSISTANCE
TOM LANDRY 205-655-[xxxx]"
I wonder if he ever gets tired of the comparisons to America's Coach? Nah, surely not.
Second, as I got back into my car, I noticed a lady getting into a spiffy new Asian-made mini-SUV parked directly in front of mine. She was just a normal woman on her way to work, but what was of greatest interest to me was what was attached to the front license plate holder. A personalized tag of sorts, with the black silhouette of a dog standing on his hind legs with his forepaws on a tree. Tastefully written across the twilight-blue background was the inscription, "Coon Hunter's Wife."
I love my hometown.
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