I have to say the feedback I have received about this little column of mine has been nothing short of amazing. So many people have expressed their joy in reading my silliness, said they look forward each week to taking another journey with me and some even said they would be terribly sad to pick up the paper and not take a look out my window. There is little in life that validates a writer as much as readers who actually want more of the words a writer writes.

I have been getting very excited about Pecan Jam because I know with all the events and people from out of town it will be fertile ground for story after story. Well, that is if I am allowed to write about Pecan Jam. It seems my writing has had a bit of an affect around our little homestead here on Woodlawn. No, not on me; I am still the exact same person I was who typed that very first article. On the other hand, it seems there are those who live at my address who have been changed by the words on the page.

I was in the kitchen the other morning washing coffee cups and I kept hearing the strangest noise. The sound was coming from one of the bedrooms off the hallway and it sounded both like a clink and scrape at the same time. Our kitchen has two doors, one going to the living room and then around to the hall and then another at the other end going straight into the hall. I picked the direct route and went straight to my bedroom thinking I might have accidentally left my treadmill running.

To my surprise, I found Patches standing in front of my full length mirror bending his head down over and over, as if bowing. When he realized I was in the room and watching, he grunted at me and clicked down the hall in a huff. That evening I was talking to Harold about possible subjects for my column and every time I would mention one other than something with Patches included in the subject matter, Patches would bark his dissent. I mentioned to Harold I thought our little dachshund was becoming somewhat of a Prima Donna thinking all my articles had to be about him when Harold said to me…"Well, when you talk about us, at least your articles are funny!"

Okay guys, I have to say when those words came out of Harold’s mouth it sounded a whole lot like Patches’ barking but I do know Harold was using words. I will let you in on a bit of a secret about Harold and in no way mean this in a derogatory manner; Harold is a take charge kind of guy in that he says what he thinks and doesn‘t elaborate. One time after I had major surgery I woke up two days later covered in blood and when I said something about calling my surgeon, Harold said…"Oh, that’s normal, you’re fine.", walked out the door and went to work. As I listened to the sound of his one ton dually warming up in the driveway, I was talking to nothing but air in our living room and asking when exactly it was Harold had gone to medical school and how it was I had not known about it? I of course, did call my surgeon and it ended up I was not so fine but actually rejecting my internal stitches. We all know that makes perfect sense; I have been unraveling for years! I am like a ball of yarn and Patches, Peepers and Harold like to see how fast they can make me spin when they yank that loose string.

Now that I am a writing this weekly column, Harold fancies himself the likes of a New York Times critic. He didn’t much like last week’s column and told me I wasn’t funny enough. If I don’t make him laugh out loud then the article doesn’t pass muster and mind you, making him laugh is like trying to squeeze through a window when it is closed. It doesn’t seem to matter he has never written anything but his name on a check or can’t even open the program in the computer to start a writing project, nope, not a bit. So when you read these little offerings please think about the extraneous noise of the barking demands of Patches wanting everything to be about him and my constant worry I have of Harold‘s new chosen profession. Oh, and by the way, if on the off chance anyone has a need for someone to criticize something they do or if you need a medical opinion from someone who has absolutely no training but lots of opinions, I am willing to let you borrow Harold. However, the most important aspect of my writing and what I really care about is that you know with all certainty that I love you all with all my heart and I really do this just for you. P.S. Happy 71st Birthday Harold October 5th 2011