SNAGLEY snagley SNAGLEY or (TRI SNAG)

For those of you who might be unsure, this is a cat.
If you are asking why is it making this butt ugly face It was just told that Chuck of www.thechuckster.com is the one who bit off his right ear.
This cat is plotting his revenge. I think it involves pooping in Chucks company car or whupping the daylights out of his "dog" Frooper.

On a side note. Casa De Snagley made it through the hurrican with nothing more than several large limbs falling upon it. So Snagley acres are in fine shape.

How did the rest of you do in the storm.

This weekend I hosted a Cub Scout wiener roast.

I have the recipe here for a Cub Scout hot dog if you need it.

1 Ballpark frank.
2 One stick about 3 feet long.
3 One Cub Scout.
4 Minimal adult supervision.
5 One fire.
6 Hot dog bun

First turn the Cubs loose to find their own stick appropriate for roasting their hotdog. They will assault your azaleas first then turn to the fruit trees, finally pointed to our willow tree, appropriate roasting skewers were fashioned.

Have the fire made prior to the Cubs arrival so that it will be a glowing bed of coals.

Give each Cub a wiener. The Cub will drop the wiener then clean it off on their Cub Scout uniform shirt. The wiener thus cleaned, will have their afore mentioned willow branch inserted lengthwise and then dropped onto the dirt. After cleaning the wiener on their Cub Scout uniform pants.

Patsy the Snagley family beagle then meanders by and gets a lick of the wiener. The Cub cuffs Patsy on the head with the wiener then makes his way to the fire.

The fire is a glowing bed of coals. After burning off the dog hair, the Cub sets fire to the far end of his wiener and puts it out in Patsy’s water dish. He then uses his fingers to squeegee it dry then cooks it to perfection over the bed of glowing coals.

The Cub then places his wiener into the hot dog bun, adds ketchup and offers it to Cub Leader Snagley.

Mr. Snagley is allergic to Cub Scout hotdogs so he turns down this noble offer, and watches the procedure repeated 12 times with 12 different Cubs.

Patsy enjoyed the event profusely; she devoured multiple hot dogs that were left hither and yon throughout the historic Snagley Acres.

This is the only known recipe for Cub Scout hotdogs. The recipe must be followed to the letter or you will be left with only hotdogs, and as we all know that would be boring.

Now I got to go weather this coming storm.
Snagley out.

Why I have a bunch of chickens in my backyard.
A friend of ours asked me why in the world a modern person would choose of his own volition to have a bunch of chickens live in his yard. I told him that it was a subject that he would not understand, as he was born in Miami. I further pointed out that, as he has spent his entire working life in a public relations firm here in Birmingham, the honest life of a rural person will always elude him.

As he told me, it is his job to take a truth and bend, stretch, and mutilate it until it serves his purpose. Then he takes that truth and packages it in a package that is much more attractive than the original truth. As he said, by the time the truth hits the consumer, it no longer represents the original truth, but since it is still loosely based on truth, it can still be considered the truth. He also has considerable beachfront property in Las Vegas Nevada if anyone is interested.

But I digress; I do have 21 chickens as followers of this blog know. They are a hobby. I hope one day to sell some eggs to friends who want them. But eggs are dang cheep so I will not make much money off of them. I like the idea of my kids knowing about some aspect of country life, their grandkids will not have that opportunity. I like to hear those roosters crow first thing in the morning. Farm and country live is going the way of conservative democrats, and rock and roll bands that sing lyrics that are intelligible.

I also plan to raise Quail. I want my kids to know the call of bobwhite in the evening. I may even raise goats or maybe a cow or two. There is something very humbling about seeing farm animals brought into the world. And there is something profoundly good for the soul about having to clean manure off of your shoes and feed those animals.

When I was a kid I got up about 4:30 to milk cows. I vividly remember walking across the frozen oat stubble to the dairy next door in the pre morning darkness. I remember the freezing air on my face and the numb hands. I remember the smells of the dairy barn the smell of the cows and the feel of the teats as I milked those friendly old cows who could not be milked by machine. I remember warming up my hands with Mr. Bailey in the sink before milking the cows so that they would not spook. I remember the smell of Jacks pipe as he herded and fed the cows. These are good memories of men working and me at 14 doing the work of a grown man. I dont want my kids to have to work but, I did not have to do it either. I could have slept late and been just another kid with no money.

These memories get me through a bunch of hard times. I wish my kids could have these memories to get them through some hard times that eventually will come. I will have to just see if I can’t help make them.

That is why I have a bunch of chickens in my backyard.

But no pigs……I hate pigs.

Friends
I give you
MY RIGHT LEG.
happy HNT

Bonapart
Oliver
Snagley signing out.

This is a pic of a truck that my Dad was in charge of in WWII. he was the staff sargent in charge of the mobile weather station. He earned a silver star with gold oak leaf clusters among the other awards during his service. He showed me this the other day and i thought it was note worthy.

On a side note i am in a better mood than yesterday. of course it would not take much to be in a better mood than yesterday.

Snagley out.

I am in a foul mood.
One of those moods where you look forward to someone doing you wrong, so that you have the chance for a justified butt kicking.
One of those moods where puppies look at you and run
Where birds stop singing and pigs stop oinking.

I had a friend once who I have mentioned before as Uncle Fred. Fred does not believe in doctors or any health care provider. He also does not work and has no visible means of support other. I think he inherited a bunch of money about 30 years ago and by knowing him I don’t think he has ever spent any of it. He also is not my uncle we all just call him Uncle Fred. He lives in an old shack that he built after dropping out of college. He is know as a hard man. One that you don’t mess with.

When I was 16 years old I was driving my old nova down the road. It ran out of oil. Yes I said oil. It had a leaky head gasket and I had not replaced it yet. I drove around with a case of motor oil. The valve lifters started clicking so I pulled over at a “bar” it was called Sailor Watkins. The sailor was an old reprobate that only had one leg. He ran this bar and filling station. If my mother had known that I stopped there I would have been chopping wood for the rest of my life.(her punishment for me at that time) I went in and asked for 8 quarts of oil, which would have been enough for me to get home. The bar was jumping, the usual yelling going on at the pool table, and there was a card game going, some old girl with a Richard Petty tattoo on her leg was trying to drink her beer while being hit on by 4 different men. As I was paying the place went quiet.

In walked Uncle Fred. He was nasty from head to toe. Covered in dust and dirt. His greasy hair was down to his shoulders, rivers of sweat had cut rivers through the grime on his face and he was wearing the largest knife on his belt I had ever seen, and he was carrying a rifle( it was deer season and at that time it was not uncommon). He walked up to the bar and said "whiskey". The Sailor poured a shot glass of whiskey and pushed it to him. He took his rifle and swept it off of the bar and said, “You call that whiskey”. The Sailor apologized and put the bottle on the bar. Fred pulled out a 20-dollar bill and threw it on the bar. Fred then guzzled a goodly portion of the bottle and said “Ok Sailor what about some pliers”. The Sailor started looking for pliers as if it was the most important thing he had ever done. The people at the card game stared down at their cards the men playing pool sat down and lit cigarettes. Finally, the Sailor found some pliers and handed them to Fred.

Fred opened up his mouth and reached back almost to his tonsils, clamped the pliers down on a tooth and started wrenching the tooth out of his head. The noises he made pulling that tooth kept me awake for nights afterwards. He pulled the tooth out and flung it onto the bar and spit a glob of blood onto the floor. He said “ Damn you, it serves you right causing me that sort of misery. He took his rifle off the bar, looked about the bar to insure everyone was behaving themselves (they were). Walked over to me and told me that I ought not to be in this sort of place and to get my butt home or he would tell my mother. I did just that. As he left the door I heard a sort of whoosh as everyone in the bar exhaled.

That is the kind of mood I am in.


Gotta get over it before i go home.

I got nothing to post today.
I dug deep and came up empty handed. Much like Chuck reaching into his drawers.
It was too dang hot to do anything this weekend in the yard.
I had to work half a day Saturday for a meeting over a new centralized database program the programmers are writing. We all argued over what we wanted for 4 or 5 hours, I updated my new PDA.

I got a blackberry PDA phone thingamabob it is pretty cool. I have it programmed to my likings. It is a 7100g, if you are curious.

I did go on an anniversary date with my wife our 11th. We went to the superior grill. I had a 3-inch thick sirloin cooked medium and what had to be the smallest margarita I have ever seen; my wife had a combination platter of some sort. It is a Mexican restaurant. Then we went to a bookstore to look around for some new books. I found nothing I liked. Then we went to a sporting goods store and looked around some more and I got some shorts and a shirt at 50% off. The first clothes I have bought in over a year. We were home by 9:15. Are we some partying folks or what?

Sunday we visited a new church. I liked the church but I don’t think I have the energy to make new friends, and this is a small church, so I could not just blend into the crowd, everyone knows I am the new guy. The dilemma is that we drive 30 minutes to church and it takes a lot of gas and time to make this trek.
Sunday afternoon I finished reading the new Harry Potter book. It is much better than the last two. My wife took the kids to visit her grandmother. I did some weed eating until the heat told me to stop.

I then watched the movie 1941 that show cracks me up.
I stayed up till 9:45 and went to bed. I woke up this morning and here I am.

I am taking posting requests for tomorrow. What do you want? help me folks......

1. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches toasted with butter all over them.
2. A good book and a chair in the shade and a fishing pole all at the same time.
3. Tape on the cat’s feet.
4. Running around like a crazy person to mess with the neighbors heads.
5. Sand in my underwear.
6. Red wine. One I like I usually don’t like wine with pictures of animals on the label but I tried this one, and like it. But, I like it cold and most true wine coinsures will put fiberglass insulation in your underwear if they find out.
7. The way you feel after making your wife’s toes curl for the 5th time in one night.
8. Blackberries.
9. Sitting in a tree stand 40 feet up, when it is really cold, 2 hours before daylight. I like to watch the world wake up and have nature not know I am there. I like the sights sounds and smells. It is the only chance I have to feel wild anymore.
10. Sitting down with a known nut and asking to hear stories of their youth.
11. Baklava
12. A really good cigar about every 6 months. And a quart of Listerine afterwards
13. Driving a car that is at least 35 years old.
14. A professional sports players union going on strike.
15. Raging on Chuck

My contribution of Half Nekid Thursday.
my fore arm.
I hope you all enjoy it in all its spledor.
and I have not had any surgical enhancements. Snagley all natural.

This is our dog Patsey the beagle.
I am not overly fond of Patsey. She has proven herself to be a royal pain in the behind.
She is prone to putting her nose to the ground and looking up and finding herself in a different time zone, then the kids cry and i have to search for her.
But the kids love her so she is tolerated.
I had to give her a bath the other day, It was about as easy as pealing a turtle.
Last night she was barking at the night. I went out to see what was going on. She looked at me as if to say. I keep barking but this darkness will not go away.
Not a lot going on in that brain of hers.
The kids want to let her have puppies but the thought of 5 to 7 Patseys running around makes me wake up in a cold sweat.
regardless of that i am stuck with her, so here she is.

The first pic is of a hen named tummy ache. his number on his leg band is 38 and it rhymes with tummy ache.

The second pic is of the part of the chicken that goes over the fence last. this pic was requested by Chuck. Another of his sick perversions. sorry folks

The third pic is of a bunch of the chickens escaping the mid day sun under their roost.

The forth pic is a rooster named soggy bottom. there is no logic behind this name. but he is the kids favorite rooster.

Chuck said he got a kick out of the old picture that i posted the other day. So i though i would post this one. These are some of my family. i am not sure of the date but i think it is prior to 1941

As a foot note i envited Chuck to go fishing but he said he had a apple pealing contest or something like that to attend.

I plan to catch up on some yard work this weekend. And maybe read a book. Anyone got any recomendations for good books.

My grapes came in and i had a bumper crop. the Muscidines and Scuppernongs are going to be a good crop as well. We have bushells and bushells of pears this year. but our garden was a bust too much rain. I keep forgetting to take a closeup pic of a chicken but i will try to get it done this weekend. Have a good one.
Snagley out.

10 Things most people don’t know about Snagley

1. I don’t usually eat breakfast or lunch
2. I still love to climb trees
3. My father earned 5 bronze stars in WWII
4. I hate wearing business clothes. I prefer blue jeans. If I had my way I would burn all of my dress clothes.
5. I almost did not graduate from high school. If I had not cheated on a typing final I would have had to come back the next year to take one typing class. I have felt guilty about this ever since and have not cheated on anything since then.
6. I was engaged to a girl that I did not marry when I was 19 years old. She was my high school sweetheart and we dated for 5 years. She broke my heart and profoundly influenced my dating life, for the worst, for years.
7. Once in college as a freshman, I made out with the roommate of a girl I was dating, while the girl I was dating studied on the lower bunk, we were in the top bunk. (I know. I was horrible)
8. I like to drink Jack Daniels whisky strait. But I hate getting drunk.
9. I have a collection of photographs of nuclear explosions.
10. I have never painted daisies on a big red rubber ball

I got an email from one of my many critics.
Evidently this critic wants more personal information about Senior Snagley, and less "nonsensical stories".
So this is yet another ask Snagley post.
If you want personal information on Snagley just ask.
Remember folks if you don’t ask you cant complain.

Bring a parent to school
When I was a kid this was a task for me. My Dad had a important job and was not able to take off on the moments notice that I gave him. I remember asking him on a Saturday, “oh Dad by the way you need to come to school with me Monday and give a speech about what you do for a living”. After the fit pitching was over with I decided to ask someone else. I went across the fields to ask my Uncle Fred.

Fred was known in those days as an idler. These days we would call him a bum, or maybe a politician. He lived in a shack back in the woods that his father had built. He hunted, fished, bathed whenever he wanted to, and general spent his days having a good time. Uncle Fred was not my uncle we all just called him that, but we treated him like family. I told him of my dilemma and asked him if he could help. His first reaction was a resounding, how did you get in here. But after a while I wore him down and he agreed to come. I told him that he would have to take a bath, that about ruined it but he finally gave in.

When we got to school my teacher was briefing the dads on what to do. Give a short explanation of what you do and then field some questions. I did not see Uncle Fred anywhere. The first dad got up. His speech was as follows.

I am a farmer, I raise cows and corn. I get up at 4:00am and milk cows then I work in the fields until dark. Then I go to the barn and milk the cows again. During calving season I generally have to work late though. If you kids are thinking of becoming a farmer you better study real hard and go to college, because you would be a dang fool to be a farmer.

He stood there for a second. The teacher jaw had dropped open. There were no questions so he sat down.
Then the next dad got up. This is what he said.

I work in the mines. As you can see even though I took a shower last night I am still covered with this blasted coal dust. I go down into the mine after the blasts are set and hammer the track clean and scoop coal into the cart for the next load. I see sunlight on the way to work; when I get out of the mines it is already dark. Study hard kids and maybe you can escape a life of working in the mines.

The next dad told about how he drug logs out of the woods with a tractor and then hauled them to a saw mill that bought them by the board foot. He showed us his left hand which only had two fingers. You could see kids all through the classroom making plans to go home and do their homework and study. I think these dads were raising the grade point average 20 points just by telling their stories.

It was almost time to go home. The teacher was about to dismiss us, I had almost given up and, then in walked Uncle Fred. He was wearing an ironed shirt and a new pair of overalls. He had a sport coat over the overalls. His face was red from scrubbing and his hair was combed. He stood over 6feet tall in his cowboy boots. I never realized it but Uncle Fred looked like a young man. He walked right into the class right up front and said

Well Bo asked me to come in here today and tell you boys about what I do for a living. Well I don’t do nothing. I get up when I want to I go to bed when I want to I fish and hunts whenever I wants to and I even bath when I want to,. And I generally don’t want to. It aint honest work that I am against or even dishonest work, it is work in general I am opposed to. It uses up a mans life where he could be out enjoying his self. Then he turned to the teacher who had a look of shock on her face. And said Now why don’t you and I get out of this place and find us a cup of coffee.

The GPA in our class immediately went back down where it was maybe lower. I think every kid in the class was seriously considering Uncle Fred as a mentor. I sure did. But 30 years latter here I am managing a software company…
where did I go wrong.

My wife
She gets up every morning and makes my lunch. It usually consists of a sandwich with a granola bar and some fruit. I don’t have to ask he to do it she just does it. She varies the lunch menu so that I don’t get tired of it. I don’t ask her to, she just does.

She cuts the grass at my house. I have about 3 acres of yard that we keep mowed. She does not want me to do it when I get home or on the weekends, she wants me to spend that time with our kids. I have never asked her to cut the grass she just does it.

She tends to the garden. She helped me plant it and keep it weed free. She picks the vegetables and prepares them for our family. My wife also cans vegetables and freezes them for the winter. I have never asked her to do this she just does it.

She lets my boys act like boys. They climb trees and fight imaginary bad guys in the yard. She lets them slay their dragons and rescue her from the back porch. She also lets them cover themselves with mud, and play in the rain. She loves them when she is tired and sick and miserable and does not feel like showing a bunch of ungrateful nincompoops love. I have never asked her to love our kids, she just loves them.

She makes me feel like a man. She lets me kill the bugs and protect her, even when she does not need protecting. She brags about me to other people. And she dotes on me when I build or fix something at our place. And folks let me tell you, I am not much to brag about. But I desperately need her to brag on me and make me feel manly. I have not once asked her to do this, I have never had to she just does it.

My wife smells like a woman. She looks like a woman. She feels like a woman. She acts like a lady. And get this folks I wrote all this stuff and she will never read it. I just wanted to.

What I like about pier fishing

A lot of people laugh at me for fishing off of the pier. Most fishermen would much rather fish from a boat. I like that too, but given the chance I love to stand on a pier and fish.
First there is something romantic about piers. My favorites are long ocean piers. I love to walk out at night on the pier, and walk to the end and stand and stare at the seemingly limitless ocean; it is like walking out a short way into, and gazing into infinity. I wrote a poem to my wife when we got married comparing getting married to walking out onto a pier, hand and hand into a limitless opportunity.

I love being around the people on the pier. They are weird folks. But, some of them come as families. They come for a day on the pier and the kids and the old man fish, while most of the wives display what can only be termed as unending patience, and read or take care of whatever ailment or injury befalls the kids. My wife will probably fall into this category one day. I married a good one. Some of the families’ kindly let the Moms go shopping at the local retail outlets. My wife usually does this but gets bored and comes to find us.

There are other folks there. The locals who are usually kind if approached with humility, they offer assistance to newcomers and are rarely rude if you know the etiquette of that pier. I also like being around crazy people. Fishing piers are full of nuts. I once saw a guy lower his self off of the pier with a rope into a small kids rubber raft. He then paddled a 5-pound dead fish 100 yards off the pier and left it to sink to the bottom. This was his bait. He latter caught a huge shark with this bait. I also saw a reasonably attractive woman change her clothes down to her underwear, as if she did this everyday and public nudity around hundreds of people was no big deal.

Cigars. I like to smoke huge cigars. I only do this while fishing from a pier. If you see someone smoking an expensive cigar that is 8 to 10 inches long for several hours it is most likely me. It keeps away all unwanted insects, and unwanted people. If a person cannot stand to smell my cigar while they talk to me the conversation will probably be about stocks, work or news anyway, this conversation is prohibited while participating in fishing of any kind. Cigars are wonderful to smoke the problem is that afterwards you have a taste in your mouth as if you slept with your mouth open and a seagull pooped into it, yuck.

Old people. I like to sit and fish with old people. The kind that catch and eat any fish that they catch. They have great stories to tell. One guy and I refought the battle of Bougainville. I once gave an old guy the fish that I caught. He cried and said I was an answer to his prayers and his family would not be hungry that night. I gave this guy my hundred dollars that I was saving for food. He cried more. I went home with him and had the most gracious meal I have ever had. I went back last fall and he had passed away and his family had moved. I could tell more but hey this is a blog not a novel.

When I fish on a pier I usually get there at 5:00 am and stay until midnight or latter. My goal is to not leave the pier at all. Most of the people I fish with are not this hard core so they leave and come back to find me still fishing. SO if you are at a pier and see a guy fishing there who seems entirely happy and content smoking a huge cigar, walk up to him and say “any luck Snagley”. I will give you a beer. And loan you a fishing rod.

For all of you inquisitive readers of this blog, who were curious about he high school reunion, it was ok. I had to leave early but I was not offended and do not suffer from any type of psychosis or psoriasis or anything like that.
It was ok; some of the hot girls were still hot. Some who were not hot were really hot. The hottest girl from high school is now a lesbian. Evidently she went through a bitter divorce and has ruled out men as potential life partners. I told her we (men) are not all bad. She said, “Why risk it”. I hope she does not run into a female version of her ex-husband. All that being said, she is still hot. Most of the guys are fat and bald, which caused me a great deal of pleasure.

They were all amazed that I went to college and was reasonable popular there. In high school I was very shy and quiet. In college I did lots of stuff.
I don’t know that I would like to have a friendship with these people outside of a 20-year reunion once every 20 years is enough. Snagley out.