"We'll call you the Big Boss."

I substituted down in Florence again today. Elementary school PE.

Each class, Pre-K to 5th graders, had essentially the same routine. The weather was nice so the other teacher and I took the kids through exercises and a short run in the gym, and then it was out to the playground. The really little ones just played around. I ended up helpin' some of them out on the swing set. All I had to do was grab the first one, pull him up to about eye level and let him go and the next thing I knew they were linin' up to get a push, gigglin' their heads off and yellin' "I wanna go higher!" With the older ones, third grade and on, it was a game of Kick Ball.

I haven't played Kick Ball in like 40 years. It was hilarious. I took charge while the other teacher watched the other kids who wanted to play soccer or just run around. I tried to pick equal teams, but I guess I'm no good at that. One team would inevitably end up with a few ringers, and a 12 or 15 run lead. I was pitching, so it shouldn't have been so one sided, but it always was. So, after a few innings, I decided that once the score got so lopsided, I'd start playing for the losing team. Try to give 'em a boost.

Sheeeit. My first kick (after like 40 years, remember) was a massive, glorious pop fly. I must'a kicked that rubber ball 80 miles into the air, straight up and down, and into the arms of the other teams pitcher. So, I'm standing in line with these 3rd graders, waiting for my next turn and they're lookin' up at me like I'm 10 feet tall. One girl looks up at me with the others and says "We're gonna call you the Big Boss." I laughed and said "OK, I'll answer to that."

Oh, and I did get a base hit, later on with the 4th graders. Then a kid that must'a been 4 feet 7 inches and 80 pounds soppin' wet kicked an inside the park homer and I got to run the rest of the bases. It must have been a spectacle.

Anyway, Tether Ball was always my game. Not a bad way to spend a Monday at work. Cheers.

Monday afternoon, and I'm back in Saba.

The First World War turned out the way it usually does in class today. The bad guys lost, and then again the bad guys won too. But when it was all over I rolled out of the jail and into the Dairy Mart for my regular Monday afternoon meal.

The girls down there make a mean Jalapeno Sourdough Bacon-cheeseburger, but we've talked.



Now and then I splurge with ether a large order of fries or a basket of onion rings, but this time I went for the regular fries and a medium Dr. Pepper. You know, tryin' to eat healthy... Yea, whatever.



As usual, it was over way too soon. I need to try to train myself not to inhale my food. Make the good times last a bit longer. It usually seems to be no time at all between this basket of gastronomic delight sliding down in front of me and the last gulp and swallow. Sad. Very sad.

Now I'm back at the library, checkin' emails and blogs, tryin' to keep up with all of you that post every day, or three to five friggin' times a day. Jesus people, give me a friggin' break! You know who you are.

I'll head back over to the jail in an hour or so and spend about fifteen or twenty minutes chit chatting with the guys... that is, the guards and other teachers, and then I'll rehash the First World War one more time. Then, having taken these wide eyed innocents (NOT!) about mid way into the 1920s, I'll be checking out of San Saba for a week of fun in the Great White North.

My plane leaves Austin at about 4:55 PM tomorrow, headed for Syracuse New York. My cousin Bob and his buds will swing by there Wednesday morning and pick me up, and then we'll drive on to our regular Canadian fishing hole. The lake we fish on is just outside the beautiful little town of Gananoque, Ontario. The town sits on the St' Lawrence river, but the lake we fish on is up stream on a small river, North of the big water.

The place we stay at is beautiful, but they don't have a web site, so I can't show you a link. But you can go here and see some pictures from past years fishing trips.



Mostly, this trip gives me a chance to hang with my cousin Bob, who's become like a brother to me over the last decade or so. It's too bad we live so far apart, or we'd be gettin' in a LOT more trouble than we do.



Here's a shot from the last day of last years trip. It was sunny and warm, as it usually is up there when we go. But this year may be different. Bob sent me a text message this morning warning me that they were predicting temps in the 60s during the day and 40s at night, with a few days of rain and a few of sun.

So, I'll head home tonight and start to lay out a nice range of gear. Thankfully, all I have to think about is clothes. Bob has enough fishing gear for several people. Kinda like me and guns, though I think the squad I fit out would eat better than his. I did tell him I'd bring him some good cigars to smoke. We'll probably end up tradin'... a few of my good mail order smokes for a few of his Cubans. We'll see.

Anyway, I'll fly back Sunday afternoon, and then I'll be right back here to tell you all about it. Y'all try to have a great week while I suffer though all that weather and stuff. Cheers!