I was walking home from watching trains when my old friend and cohort, George, honked his horn at me.
"What's up white boy?" George hollered from the downed window of his Buick.
I grinned furiously as George navigated traffic and I walked on home. It was the first time I had seen George in months and months. I had so many questions to ask him. Like, "Where's Ferret?" And, "Are you still drinking?" All these questions would have to wait until some other day, though.
You can really tell it is fall by the crickets. I have fond memories of college and typing term papers this time of year. Fall crickets would be serenading me through an open patio door. Each evening runs it's course by finding me and Maggie sitting on my porch as I smoke some extremely aromatic pipe tobacco. It is a fitting end to a nice day.
I was trying to get across to my father today that my model railroad will encompass a whole bedroom.
"You mean you have to move your bed out?" he asked.
"It means the front bedroom will be nothing but trains," I replied.
He didn't look too sure about this "plan."
"Wait before you start building," he told me. "I want to run it by Charlie."
That was fine by me because it will take months and months of saving funds to be able to start. I have the grandest dreams, though, and it is fun to play with them in my head.