Texas Blue Lime Productions

In the spirit of the Thanksgiving season, we are grateful for all our family and friends. Thank you.

Enjoy the holiday weekend. Be safe.

Thank you from the Luza family

1. 25 / 52: Be Grateful!, 2. 19970000 049 Luza Square in Dubrovnik, 3. Thanksgiving dinner, sans turkey, 4. Texas Windmill, 5. Fall Feast, 6. hot cocoa, 7. warmer days, 8. Scharffen Berger Chocolate Snap Pie, 9. warmth, 10. Autumn Trees, 11. When Autumn Leaves Start to Fall, 12. Fallen Leaves, 13. Portfolio Wedding – 1914. Fall leaves 15. Fall leaves16. Fall leaves

One of my dad’s best friends, Harold Morrison, passed away this week. He and Daddy were golf buddies and shared a real love of their school and its kids. Since it’s founding, Harold had chaired the golf tournament that was named in Daddy’s memory.

The write up in the local paper was really nice. They were quite kind to mention Daddy [1] a couple of times.

Our thoughts are with Harold’s family and close friends.

.

.

.

[1] In typical Paris News fashion, they used the name Salters instead of Salter. Since they ran stories of Daddy’s death, his obituary, and advertisements for the golf tournament every year, any effort to verify would have revealed the correct spelling of the name. Daddy would have said, “there is just one of me!”

Thanks go to Emil’s brother, Charles, for this horrifying image.

Can Grammar Girl Save Ruston, LA

Wow. Just wow.

So we decided to paint the boardwalks to the house this evening. (We aren’t usually fans of painted wood, but it had been painted before.) We started at front door, painted up the stairs and up to the driveway. Then we started at the garage door and painted down the stairs toward the kitchen. This way, we could paint our way into the house and it could dry overnight.

Emil took the second “shift”. As he neared the kitchen door, we opened the screen door. Purrrrrl decided that was an invitation to walk outside, buzzed right past him, and manged to get paint on all four paws!

I got a paper towel and got most of the paint off her paws. As I type this, I’m holding her (which is making it take twice as long to tell this little story) to keep any paint remnants from getting all over our beautiful hardwood floors.

(Can you hear her cry and fuss at me for not letting her down? Can you see the fur flying from her getting her dander up at me? Can you feel the flick of her tail as she smacks it in anger?)

Oh, Sosta just came to check on her baby sister….and Purrrrrl’s paws seem to be dry, now.