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Breakfast in the pasture

It is, yet again, another beautiful morning. What a great time to take a ride in the country. The only thing that could make it better would be to have mountains in the background. But there is also a lot to be said for Indiana. While I haven’t reached the point my father was at, never wanting to move from Rolling Prairie, there are more states to which I would not move than there were a few years ago.

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As I’ve put in a previous post, I seem to be paying more attention to what goes on around me since I started posting 132 days ago. What I am about to relate is a generality, but seems accurate based on my observation. It seems that early morning joggers are out before they go to work in the morning. I generally see them before 9 a.m. From 9 to 10 a.m. most of the joggers appear to be stay-at-home housewives…I can’t tell if they are bored or not, but most appear to be in good shape. There are a few exceptions, and it is not a pretty sight. After 10 there are a variety of people, most are walking, not  jogging. A fair number of them are pushing strollers. The one group that can be seen at all hours of the day are the men and women who have a suspended or revoked driver’s license, and they are out on their mopeds. Early morning ’til late at night they are out on the streets. I don’t know where they are going, or where they have been, but they are constantly going somewhere.

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I was in the library the other day, looking through the cd collection for something new (to me) to listen to. I picked up a Bob Dylan cd and a Hank Williams Sr. cd. I was looking at a Johnny Cash cd when I heard a male’s voice say, “That’s a good Cash album.” I kind of nodded in the direction of the voice, and then I heard, “I’m a big Johnny Cash fan.”

I made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes I’m a fan, other times, not so much.”

Then the guy said, “Look, I’m a really big fan,” and out of the corner of my eye I saw his right shoulder move towards me. I glanced over and saw that he was showing me his tattoo of Johnny Cash in his right upper arm. It was a very good likeness of cash from the late 1950’s or early 1960’s, I would estimate. It  was a professional job, not a prison tat.

It made me stop and wonder if I would ever be a big enough fan of somebody to have their likeness inked into my body. I thought all of 5 seconds before I answered NO! I’m more verbal than visual.

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