Bar Jokes

A bear and a fox go into a bar. I forget the punch line. In addition to my usual rag-tag outfits, I now carry a pair of tin cans on a string around my neck, although cursing like a sailor seems to work as well. If you do get home and there's a bear in the driveway, it's best to just sit for a while and listen to NPR. Resist the impulse to panic. I think it's a female, I hate to profile, but I have my bear notes in front of me and all indications are that it's a sow. Someone saw a sow with a cub, and this is probably her, although, if there is a cub, that's indicates a male in the area. Male black bears often have to travel far afield to find an unoccupied place they can call home. This is probably the female, but it could be a young male. If the blackberries are plentiful, you'll occasionally see a bear just sit down in the middle of them (they sit on their ass exactly the way you do) and eat with both hands. What do you call a bear with blackberry juice running down the sides of her mouth? A drunk bear goes into a bar. I had assumed, for most of my life, that crows were my totem, if I had a totem, but now I lean toward bears; that thing with the fox was just infatuation. We're talking identity here. An Irish bear comes into a bar and slaps his briefcase down, he's obviously pissed, and the space falls oddly silent. No one fucks with a pissed off Irish bear. He gets a shot of Paddy, with a Murphy's stout to follow, drinks it down in a single swallow, and storms out of the room as if he had something to do. Two old timers at the end of the bar are not impressed, one turns to the other, nods toward the bear, and allows that he doesn't think animals should be allowed. I have to laugh, the way reality overcomes fantasy. There is, in fact, a bear. A talk with C today, she wants me to compile a maintenance book, which certainly needs to be done. Right now, I'm the only person at the museum that knows where the main water valve is hidden; ditto with the odd light switches. I had just bought local ripe tomatoes, and Bev gave me another bag, so I suddenly have tomatoes coming out my ears. Saturday I'll make a simple tomato sauce I can use a couple of different ways, eggplant marinara comes to mind, and a hot Italian sausage thing on pasta. I'll need to blanch a batch tomorrow, skin and core them, store them in a glass bowl in the fridge, then sterilize a couple of quart jars, make the sauce on Saturday, and store it in the fridge. It'll be good for a couple of weeks. I was concerned about Cream of the Crop, next spring, when I'll be off to Chautuaqua, but the timing is good, perfect, in fact, and I can install that show before I leave, and spend a couple of days with Mac after, and no one will know I was gone. I have to go, think about that.