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This entry was posted on Friday, February 4th, 2022 at 8:41 am and is filed under simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
This entry was posted on Friday, February 4th, 2022 at 8:41 am and is filed under simple pleasures. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
There is some theoretical amount of honesty that is indistinguishable from mental illness. —Scott Adams
Home is where you can say whatever you want because no one listens to you anyway.
Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's cousin Alphonse
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happiness™ (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
Bluebird Bitter™, the beer they named for Bob
I love her: she is such a sweet young woman and she plays a mean fiddle and dances up a storm. Been following her for about six months now.
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And in addition to being so talented, she has a million-dollar smile.
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I can’t dance or play an instrument so I’m in total awe! And not a hair out of place!
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I hear you. As someone who could not dance or play the fiddle if my life depended on it, I’m mightily impressed with anyone who can do both at once.
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Reblogged this on blogging807.
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Thanks Rae. ♥️
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Good song, lively considering what the words are. I may be wrong, but I think the original version came to the colonies with either survivors of Culloden who were sold as slaves, or Irish slaves. A lot of bluegrass came form them and married up with American Indian and black music. Yep, got to share this with the kinfolks, allelu!
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