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Knock knock

Who’s there?

Amos

Amos who?

A mosquito bit me.

Knock knock

who’e there now?

Andy

Andy who?

And he bit me a again!*

It continues to rainy here in Michigan, which has been renamed Land of Perpetual Insects. I am no longer going out in short sleeves and shorts. It is also humid like I haven’t experienced in a long while. Alas, there hasn’t been any good thunderstorms, worse luck for that.

SIL #3 left me her car to run into town but she forgot to tell me it had no gas or brakes. The first problem is settled but the second problem remains a concern. She’s right that they get better in time but the first few minutes of driving down the driveway feels like a runaway mine car. Downtown Brighton has some lovely mom-and-pop local owned stores I want to attend but they keep odd hours and I keep missing when they are open. I made a reservation for the bakery to make me a proper loaf of rye, which I pick up tomorrow after 9AM, when they open. The Cheese shop is closed on Monday and Tuesday and opens on Wednesday at 11AM. I am damned determined go there and get an item off my “Monty Python Cheese Shop Sketch” list.** Father keeps coming up with things he wants, sending me back to Meijer Shifty Tackers, so I have opportunities to get these delicacies.

Speaking of cheese, I was told to please help myself and eat anything that is in the refrigerator, on the sensible grounds it will go bad otherwise. In the fridge at eye level is a tub of Win Schulers bar cheese. My soul swoons. For thems unfamiliar with this Michigan icon, Win Schulers used to be a restaurant, which one often attend after The U of M games (win or loose or course) They had a unique cracker and a cheese spread. The restaurant is no more but one can still buy the cheese in the local supermarkets. This is better than all the cheeses of the Monty Python sketch. Yesterday father and Aunt J and I spread some on Ritz crackers (the Win Schuler chips are no more, worse luck), we all had a snort, and it felt like old times. I wonder if I can get some tubs home to Arizona without them melting on the way. I have to go to Meijer tomorrow to get Father some new undergarments. It will be an odd sight at the check-out register: a bag of Depends and a plastic tub of bar cheese. No doubt they have seen worse.

While we are on the subject of food stuffs I shouldn’t be eating, I was pleased as Punch to be making headway on the eggs pouring into the house from the henhouse. The hens had stopped laying, giving me time to catch up. I texted SIL #3 who said this is not possible; I must not be looking right. Lo! There is a back room in the henhouse I hadn’t noticed and – you guessed it- eggs galore! 13 to be exact. Newly-laid eggs make lousy hard boiled eggs – too fresh! I am half tempted to bring them to town and see if anyone on the street will take them. Brighton is small enough place people generally know each other, so if I explain who I am people will be less likely to call the cops. On the other hand, I don’t want to ruin our good Henley Street name. “Say, did you know your brother was downtown last week while you were away, trying to push eggs on passers-by?” that sort of thing.

Fresh-baked bread, local cheese, and freshly-laid eggs. This is hardly lo-calorie eating although all is high-quality stuff, no rubbish. I see it as victuals to address my anemia I am developing from blood loss. At least I have the satisfaction knowing when the bitches bite my lipid-rich blood this will result in them developing atherosclosis of the probosis and die.

*Yes I know it is only the female mosquitoes that bite, but for the sake of the knock knock joke I use the pronoun ‘he’. Please don’t write in.

**There are officially 43 cheeses in the sketch, of which only one is not real: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese. Some clever cheesemonger ought to make a cheese and label it so; they would make a million.

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