pitchers tuck by buddy don: the view frum fairymount

i finely gut sum of them pitchers to uplode, but i gut a long way to go yet. i figgerd i wood start by showin ye how thangs looked frum fairymount whar we wuz a'stayin. heres a few of em:









them pitchers gives ye purty near the full 360 deegrees round the place. as ye kin see, tiz everythang ye here ireland is spozed to be, witch by that i mean green, rural n lookin lack tiz fixin to rain. corse, taint all rural n rainy by no means, witch i will show ye sum pitchers to proov that by n by.

heres the vue cummin up the drive to the cottage whar we stayd:



n this heres the ackshul cottage:



meanwhile, i thought ye mite lack to read a cuple of lil aneckdotes bout how nice them irish folks wuz (thar by far the best thang bout thar wunderfull cuntry).

one of the times me n miz bd wuz drivin to dublin n back to pick folks up or drop em off, we gut to whar we wuz a'gone half to pee. we wuz feelin bad on a counta we had been tole a bidy could drive to dublin in 90 mints, witch we couldnt doot in under about 150 at bes. so we wuz alreddy runnin way late.

but when ye gut to go, ye gut to go, so we pullt over in naas (pernounced to rhyme with mace) n wint into a grossry store. once we gut in, i wint over to a yung lady that wuz runnin one of the cash registers n ast her could i use her rest room. she looked at me lack i wuz the one with the ackcent n said, 'I'm terribly sorry, sir, but if you wish to rest, you'll have to go elsewhere." she could see the look of panick on my face, so she ast me whut did i rilly wont? i sed i wuz despert to pee, witch made her laff n say whut i needed wuz a toilet, witch she showd me how to git to thars ... jes in time!

on a nuther of them drives to dublin n back, we gut a lil off the beaten track by acksident, drivin down the east coast far a nuff to see the irish sea, witch jack sed twuz the hi lite of the drive frum dublin back to birr n ballingarry.

but we wuz a lil lost, so i pullt over to a nuther grossry store n wint in to git die-reckshuns. i spotted a feller with his hands full of items he wuz fixin to buy n ast him could he tell me how to git to roscrea, witch i pernounced it the way it looked to me as "rose cree."

he anserd that he hattent never herd of it n dint know whar twuz. i ast im wudnt it one of the major towns of the midlands? he laffd n ast me could i mean "ross cray"? i tole im i shore did, probly, so he ast me did i have a map. i tole im we had a bad map out in the car, so he tuck his stuff n found a place to putt it n splaind to the perprietor of the grossry that he wood cum rite back.

we walked out to the car n showd im our map, witch he sed we wuz rite bout it bein a bad map. so he putt his fangers to his chin n looked n thunk fer a bit n then tole me how i orta to go to git to the naas (rhymes with mace) rode. i tole im i shore did preciate his hep, but he tole me i had to reepeat them die-reckshuns, witch i coulda swore i had em, but when i wuz dun reecitin em back to im, he sed that i wood git lost if i follerd em. so he tole me agin n made me reepeat whut he had sed till i gut it jes rite.

point is, ye caint find nicer folks. he wuz shoppin n i innerupted im. ifn the same thang hadda tuck place in new york, i kin damn betcha he wood not have dropped everthang to go hep a turst.

well, maybe he wood ifn he hadda been irish, witch ye probly know thays more irish in new york than in inny other city in the worl.

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frustrayshun of buddy don: caint git them pitchers to uplode

i wuz hopin to show ye sum pitchers of birr n fariymount out near ballingarry, but i caint git smugmug to uplode no pitchers. ye wooda been able to see how far out in the cuntry we wuz, witch we wuz even able to see the stars, sumthin ye dont git much chants to do up here in the nyc area.

i am lookin into sum other method of gittin them pitchers to lode, but i wont have time to do much with em today.

yesterdy wuz my furst day back at wurk n i have to say twuz a deelite. bof me n miz bd wuz sprized how grate it felt to git back into the swang of thangs agin.

i hope to have sum pitchers to show ye by n by ...

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travels of buddy don: faeries in ireland?

i spoze ye mite speck to have a few tricks played on ye ifn ye stay at a place name of fairymount farmt, with thats whar loretta n paddy putt us. twuz a rite purty place (i will git thru them pitchers soon, i promiss), but twuz a good ways off the beaten path. ye couldnt see no lites atall at nite, witch lease ye could see them stars. thay wuz food in the fridge, but twuz all pork n such, so thay wudnt nobidy stayin thar that wood eat it till my yungun tony joined us.

but bout them faeries. furst i gut to drive to dublin n back four times on a counta thay wuz folks that need to be picked up (total kms driv: 2724.5 -- miles wooda been even longer! n the gas wuz way hi -- €1.15 fer a liter, witch that wurks out to nigh on to $6.30 a gallon). that wudnt so bad, but amung em wuz my ex-wife, witch she did sum alterayshuns on the weddin gown n got a invite n ended up stayin in the same cottage with me n miz bd n miz bds mother. kindly lack a mans wurst nitemare a'cummin true, ceptn miz bds mother is one of my favert folks innywhar.

but what them faeries really gut me tripped up wuz on a tooth that gut to hurtin till i couldnt thank bout nuthin else. so them kind folks at dooly's hotel found a dental surgeon fer me n i wint to see whut could he do. thangs is differnt over thar. fer one, they dont git ye fully numb. fer a nuther, thay lay ye down in the chair till yer hed is lower than the rest of yer bidy n yer a'lookin strate up into the face of the dentist.

ere he had injeckted the painkiller, he pointed out he wood half to know witch tooth twuz that had the problem. by then the pane wuz so grate i couldnt tell witchn twuz, so he sed he wood half to tap on my teeth to see. whenever he hit the rite one, we both knew it by how i nearly cum up outta that chair.

he dun the deed, dug into the tooth (he tole me i could squeeze the armrests ifn thangs wuz hurtin too much, but i figgerd the new pane wudnt no wurser than the ole n twudnt near as bad as a migraine), n whenever he gut a air hole to the nerve, ye could smell the ded smell it wuz a'makin.

he finished the job n give me a bill fer €140 (ye could buy ye sum euro at about $1.50 each) n sent me on my way. purty soon the pain cum back, but i couldnt cumplain on a counta he had wurked late on a fridy to take keer of the problem.

but the pain jes kep gittin wurse till i gut sum panadol to take along with ibuprofen, witch that hepped me git thru the ceremony n recepshun n such.

by mundy mornin, whenever i wuz drivin tony back to the airport in dublin, it was gittin to whar i could barly keep frum whining out loud (as ifn that wood make it feel inny better). on the way home the tears wuz rollin down my face, tho it dint seem as ifn i wuz crine.

so twuz back to the same dentist, witch this time he pointed out how he woodnt need to use no painkiller on a counta thay wudnt no nerve left. then he sed he wonted to tap on the tooth, but i tole im i couldnt survive that. so he tapped on sum naybor teeth to make shore. then he turnt on the drill n gut to wurk. i dont know how i gut thru that, but twuz over purty quick. he give me sum heavy antibioticks, witch one of em wuz a anaerobick one that made it so ye caint take even a lil drop of alkyhol.

nuther lil trick by them faeries, no doubt.

they wudnt dun. the nex mornin twuz time to take grandmom n jack back. i wuz feelin better on a counta my fever brakin (even tho i had to vommit four times durin the nite). i gut em up (the fever brakin woke me up with my shirt soaked thru) n ast jack did he wont sum coffee. he did, so i made it, but as i wuz pressin down on it (twuz one of them press coffee makers thats manual), the hot coffee cum up n scalded me on the rite arm. twernt so bad, but it did leave a scar.

i had been readin a book of short stories by stephen king durin all this, witch a friend at wurk begged me to read it (i git a lot of that). by the time me n miz bd wuz a'cummin back frum dublin, we wuz laffin bout ritin a parody of a stephen king story name of tireland.

more to cum, cumpleat with pitchers ...

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returns of buddy don: back frum a long trip

we dun made it back finely n tiz grate to be back home. i wont bore ye with all the deetails jes yet, but if figgerd i wood share a lil pome i ended up a'riting fer the weddin sorta at the request of the bride, witch i wuz a give a part in it whar i wuz to read a reefleckshun on marrg, witch i gut so minny idees on the topick that i could talk fer three daze, witch thats why i limted myself to a lil ole sonnet.

furst, tho, i figgerd ye mite fine it innerestin how this here rainbow wuz one of the verr furst thangs we seen whenever we gut to ireland. twuz in county clare near sum cliffs name of cliffs of moher ...



we seen this here cow a'grazin on our way up to them cliffs ...



finely, once we gut up on them cliffs we seen this here sunset, witch twuz my furst time seein the sun a'settin on the atlantic ...



we tuck nigh onto 1500 or more pitchers so i will try to putt sum more of em up ever now n agin, but jes to finish off fer the day, heres the sonnet i writ for the weddin of loretta n paddy ...

The Forge

Since each sole person born is made of flesh
We all are prey to bodily desire –
Though such attraction can serve as love’s mesh,
Mere carnal love is not all we require.

For how the lone heart aches in every breast
With passion to love and to be loved as well –
Yet passion by itself can never rest –
Love needs a safer home in which to dwell.

And all are blessed with mind and intellect
With which to plan, to hope, to pray, to dream –
Short-lived is folly that does not respect
The need for true love to create a team.

Nor flesh nor mind nor heart but only soul
Can forge two distinct lives into one whole.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: new method fer gittin pitchers of them critters

i aint putt no pitchers of them critters that lives (n dies -- theys a contentchuss bunch) in our aquarium on a counta thonly way i could git em to show up wuz to use a flash. thang bout that wuz how them fish dint lack that flash atall.

i also been playin round with a lens me n miz bd gut a while back, witch tiz a 10-22 mm, a verr wide angull at the bottom end. so tuther day i tuck a pitcher of one of them fish n it cum out all dark. so i changed the iso till twuz up to 800 n set the shutter speed at 1/60 of a second, witch tiz hard to git em to be much moren a blur thataway, but the wide angull is a verr fergivin lens.

we know we will be missin them critters, witch i gut a yungun name of tony thats a'gone be droppin by to check on em while we are gone. he will be a'goin to the weddin, but he wont be thar but a day or two.

furst up is killer, the daddy n grandaddy of nigh onto 20 crawdads thats dun bin born in the tank so fer. (miz tenna, the mama n grandmama woodnt cum out fer a pitcher on a counta she wuz moltin.)

ye kin see whar the algae has dun growd up on his back, witch thats they easiest way to tell whuther one of em has dun molted on a counta how they cum out so clean whenever they have thar new bidy on em ...



as ye kin see, killer goes wharever he wonts to. here hes climbin up on one of the tanks prize spots, that thar jug (thays a crawdad that lives under it name of jughed, witch he woodnt cum out fer no pitchers neethur ...



this nextn is a pitcher of a crawdad name of moon on a counta he or she lacks to live in sum thangs thay call moonrocks whenever they sell em to ye ...



heres a pitcher of ups, witch hes the number two fish in the tank ... the number one fish, kane, woodnt let me git no good pitchers of im on a counta he wuz too busy harrassin everbidy else ...



but i did git a lil pitcher of im swimmin in frunt of the camra whenever i wuz trine to git a nuther shot of killer ... ye kin tell he is the boss by how blue his mouth is, witch thats how sum of them speshees lets ye know who is the boss ...



we will miss em n hope they kin make it till we git back frum ireland ... n we hope to post a heap in heppin of pitchers ifn we kin git access whenever we are over thar.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: a cruise deepartin frum man hattan

sumday mayhap me n miz bd will be on one of them cruise ships we see leavin out ever now n agin. this heres a pitcher of one of em ...



but meanwhile, we gut a truly fantastick vacayshun a'cummin up: we will be flyin off to ireland cum sundy, witch we plan to be thar nigh on to two weeks. thays minny a thang plannd fer us thar: trip on a bog train to cut sum moss peat, witch we generly call it peat moss round here, a tracter pullin contest, lots of hikes n sites to see ... but as ye mite speck, them aint the main reasons we are a'goin.

no the mane reason is sumthin we woodnt miss fer the world: loretta n paddys a'gittin hitched! n we will be thar to do our part. fack is, miz bd will be a'walkin loretta down the aisle on a counta lorettas daddy dun passed away back in 2001.

tiz my plan to do a lil bloggin frum over thar, witch loretta has dun scoped out a place whar a bidy kin make a post now n agin.

my mane problem? i dont thank i gut a nuff storage fer all the pitchers i am a'plannin on takin ... but thats bout as good a problem as a bidy kin have ...

heres hopin that yer havin ye a grate day today!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: chinese shoes

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pomes of buddy don: Someone Else's Problem

Someone Else's Problem

A scant six years ago this very day
We were attacked upon our native soil –
It’s true we let the culprit get away
But he hid in a land that had no oil!

And yet we know we’re doing the right thing
Since in his video bin Laden said
That right there in Iraq we’d feel the sting
Of losing where we chose to fight instead.

And so another FU's ante’d up –
Six months more to show what we can do –
And if we come home like a wounded pup
The blame will tar someone who's not Bush Two!

Same old, same old, same old: why get upset?
And yet I can't compose the last couplet!

[update: i dint much lack that thisn cum out without the 14 lines a sonnet orta have, so i tacked on a endin that splains why i couldnt finish the last two lines. i also fixed the 12th line sos it wurked a lil better.]

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: painted ladies in man hattan

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: corner of 42nd n 6th

lookin northwest a'usin a wide angull lens that makes them tall bildins n everthang look lack thar tilted, witch they aint in real life ...



also, buck ast me in a comment whuther i wuz plannin on bloggin in ireland, witch i am a'hopin that will be possibull. ye kin jes bet ye thays a'gone be a few pitchers tuck durin our two weeks thar ...

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: spread thin late in the season

these here water lilies kindly spreads tharself out late in the season, witch with vacayshun to ireland n all a'cummin up, me n miz bd feels purty much the same way ...



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pomes of buddy don: Over There

Over There

It’s true we’d rather fight them “over there”
Than have to face their evil “over here,”
And yet a bit of math leads to despair
Since “over theres” are everywhere you peer.

We missed one in Afghanistan and let
Osama bin Laden slip through our fingers,
Which meant another “over there” to get
In Pakistan where safely he still lingers.

We added Iraq to our “over theres”
Although ‘twas fifteen Saudis who attacked
But Mecca has us bound in oil’s snares –
With payments for their crude we still react!

With far too many “over theres,” it’s clear,
Our wisest move is defense over here!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: a garden grows in staten island

thays a garden over in staten island that ye caint fine the lack of nowhars else here in amurka on a counta tiz a chinese skolars garden. tiz a place bilt fer contemplayshun n meditayshun. me n miz bd wood bild us one ifn we wuz to win the lottery or sumthin, witch that aint lackly, so thisn is a'gone half to do ...

one thang different bout it is how tiz all enclozed in walls ...



ye kin fine all kindsa lil nooks n crannies ...



... witch ye kin walk rite into em sos ye kin sit n meditate or contemplate thangs ...



everwhar ye turn, thays a purty vue









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eggscuses of buddy don: uplodin pitchers

pall gies fer not postin today, but i have spent my hole mornin uplodin pitchers i tuck last evenin at a volunteer softball game one of the groups in our cumpny wuz a'havin. they wuz kind a nuff to ast me wood i take pitchers thar, so i dun it, but uplodin em has tuck all mornin so far.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: the tank, the hole tank n nuthin but the tank

i aint felt lack botherin them critters a nuff to git sum new pitchers of them crawdads, witch thay must be ten or twenty of em by now. tiz hard to tell on a counta them moltin, witch they lacks to bury tharself whenever they do that. but heres the hole tank fer a change ...



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eggscuses of buddy don: a lil under the weather

pall gies fer not bloggin yesterdy, but me n miz bd wuz a lil under the weather on a counta thay wuz this airloom tomater sale, witch ye kin eat too minny tomaters to whar ye git the runs, jes in case ye dint know. i feel wore plum out even today, witch we are much better now if a lil tarrd.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: vue frum navesink highlands lighthouse

thays a nuther lighthouse besides the one out on sandy hook, witch tiz in atlantic highlands. after me n miz bd had watched them paragliders fer a while, we wonted to eat, witch we lack a place name of bahrs landin (pitchers on the way), but they dint open till 11:30, so we went up into the navesink highlands lighthouse, witch it has two lighthouse towers.

this first pitcher is a wide angle vue showin ye sandy hook across from whar the navesink river dumps into the bay thar, witch thats whar all them folks is paraglidin n windsurfin. in the far distunts ye kin see brooklyn n man hattan ...



heres a closer shot of the same thang ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: tricky stairs

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: more sandy hook

after drivin to the end of it, me n miz bd drove back along sandy hook a'lookin fer whut folks wuz doin. we knew they wuznt eatin strate from the water:



ifn i had seen a sine lack that, i mite not be willin to go in, but thay wuz a reason folks mite wonta:



corse, twernt only windsurfin they wuz a'doon. looked to us lack the paraglidin wuz even more fun, witch in this pitcher ye kin see a wind surfer in the foreground n a paraglider in the back:



as ye kin see, they kin even fly, witch heres one of em paragliders a'doin it:



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: sandy hook

on saturdy me n miz bd gut us one of them zip cars, witch ye order it in add vants n then walk up at the time tiz yourn n stick yer card over a lil sticker n nex thang ye know, the locks open, ye git n thar is the key. we had us quite a day, startin off by a drive down to sandy hook new jersey, witch tiz a lil spit of land jes off a place name of atlantic highlands. we wuz thar a time or two befor, but we dint have no idee jes how big that spit of land wuz nor how much wuz a'goin on with it. i tuck a slew of pitchers, so heres a few of em ...

furst thays this light house, witch twuz the furst one bilt in the united states, furst doin its duty back in 1764 n continuin to this verr day ...


we wint by a museeum to see how thay make so much lite, witch tiz a trick of mirrors n this speshul glass ...




we also gut out n walked roun on the beaches (we had other plans fer the day, so we dint stay too long). frum sandy hook ye kin look back tords the city, ceptn whut ye see is furst brooklyn n then the taller bildins of man hattan ...


baywatch, jersey-style ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: waitin fer that thar sunrise n ferry

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secret plans of buddy don: sorta kinda more eggscuses

i know i aint had time to do much in the way of bloggin here lately, but thats on a counta havin sum innerestin thangs in the wurks that i caint hardly wait to tell ye bout but since thays secrets fer the current spell, i caint say much. but i kin give ye a cuple hints.

thays a cuple thangs i wonta be a'tellin ye bout soon n i thank ye will lack em. twill be a chants fer ye to git yer hands on sum thangs that wuz only on yer screen up to now.

n thays more, but i caint tell ye much bout it yet.

thang is, thays a lot of wurk rapped up in the sprizes i am hopin to sprang on ye soon.

so please be payshunt n keep cummin back. i caint even say my ownself when i will be able to make my secrets publick ... but i caint hardly wait!

n i am hopin to have em reddy ere me n miz bd flies off to ireland fer the weddin of loretta to paddy ...

but ifn ye wonta, ye kin jes take all this chatter as sorta kinda more eggscuses fer why i aint bloggin ...

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pomes of buddy don: no time

No Time

I could make rhymes, but there's no time,
Besides, I've no idea –
So let me go now even though
I can't say more than, "See ya!"

(fergive the lack of inny ritin much these days. i been readin a grate manuscrip (jes finished it!) n wurkin lack crazy (on a job i luv, witch that mite be part of the problem).

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eggscuses of buddy don: no time to blog

yesterdy wuz a verr long day fer me n miz bd. then when i gut up, i couldnt do nuthin but read bout how karl rove has dun claimd he wuz leavin early. thay must be sumthin more to that, witch i caint hep but be curyas.

but tiz time fer me to git!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: hot august in brooklyn

twuz a verr hot day on sundy, but me n miz bd wint to that garden innywho. heres a cuple pitchers of them amazin water lilies, witch even king solomon aint gut nuthin on them when it cums to gittin spruced up ...







the beeyootifull flower of the sacred lotus ends up a'lookin lack a ugly mess, but tiz frum this that nex years sacred lotuses will cum ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: take me out to that thar ballgame

caught stealin ...






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wurklife of buddy don: volunteerin!

bein frum the grate state of tennessee lack i am, ye fine yerself always gittin into thangs on a counta whenever sumbidy asts whuther thay is inny volunteers, ye gut to step up n brag bout how thats jes whut ye are. sum folks thanks thats a crazy way to ack, but today is one of them days that makes it all wurthwhile.

ye mite could member bout how sum years ago i tuck a volunteer spot with the poe-leece athletick league rookie baseball program, witch goodbank has been supportin thatn fer twelve years. bein that i kep showin up, i made it up to assistant commishuner, wurkin long side a good frien of mine name of sanjay, who hes the commishuner. innywho, today we are takin them kids out to see the mets play agin them braves. twill be a tuff day of wurk -- the games cummences at 12:05, leavin preshuss lil time to do innythang else -- but i will take my camra (fixed) n try to make it thru the best way i kin.

have i menchunned lately how i am proof that blessins abound even fer the undeeservin? if not, let me menchun it now n point out how i am proof of it.

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pomes of buddy don: The Craven

The Craven
(with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

Once upon a newsday showing on TV the pundits glowing
Over many a quaint and curious question from us all –
While I viewed it nearly sleeping, frustrated almost to weeping
At the strange responses coming, coming like a newsy scrawl
That was scrambled, jumbled, jangled till I could not read it all
“Perhaps,” I thought, “the font’s too small.”

Ah, distinctly I can see it: Alfredo, he wished to flee it,
Dodging the interogation like it was a funeral pall –
Senators, they sought an answer, but the AG was a dancer,
Dancing round the questions asked him like a tumbler on a ball,
Hiding honesty he owed us, with the words we hate to scrawl:
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall.”

These two words he kept repeating, like a lost lamb bleating, bleating,
As if wolves were threatening to beat and eat him in a brawl –
Could there be no truth inside him? or no laws to stand astride him
As he showed the world a strain of pure unprecedented gaul?
Or were we to sit and gaze, amazed and yet still held in thrall?
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall”

One could write a thousand verses and not cover all the curses
That our very founding fathers would so horribly appall –
Did they risk their reputations, lives and fortunes in creation
Of our nation just so such evil misfortune could befall
Us in a time of war, a time when good men should stand tall?
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall.”

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pomes of buddy don: The Freedom We Held Dear

The Freedom We Held Dear

The British couldn’t do it though they tried
When thirteen colonies were all we were –
We would not let the fear of death decide
Which form of government we would prefer.

And in this land of partisan extremes
Even the civil war could not rewrite
The liberty and freedom of our dreams
For though divided, fear was not our plight.

Nor could the powers of last century –
The Nazis and the Soviets and more –
Divert us from our place in history
Or sacrifice the rights that we adore.

And yet in six short years through use of fear
We’ve given up the freedom we held dear.

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quik note of buddy don: back, but still wurkin

tiz a grate blessin to have a job ye luv as much as i am luvin mine at the moment, but it do tend to git in the way of mos everthang else.

the trip wuz fantastick. i gut a lot dun, gut to have dinner with one of my best friends at the montgomry inn follerd by ice cream at a place name of graeters, witch ifn ye git a chants sum time when yer in or round cincinnati, ye orta try ye sum.

then we had us a good time on saturdy, witch twuz jessicas burthdy n paddy had dun hisself proud, gittin us one of them roof top places fer the eevent n puttin out fanger foods n such. he woodnt even let me pay fer a sangle malt fer myself n miz bd.

now we are countin the days till the weddin on september 22. we gut sum grate news bout folks attendin, speshly the mother of the brides mother ...

i will try to git my bloggin back on track in the nex day or so.

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