Downslide to Weekend..Thurs., Oct. 15, 2009

October 15....means there are just 6 months before it's time to file Income Taxes. Means it is the middle of the month. Means we're getting deeper into fall. Means it is today.

**************

Greenview is in slow mode and is either recuperating from the garage sales or it's gearing up for another weekend of fall hot dog roasts or Halloween parties. Both sound good to me, but since no one has invited me to a good old hot dog roast, I guess I will need to cook my hot dogs in the microwave this weekend.

*******************

Busy day for me. I'm getting ready for my garage sale this weekend which I didn't have last weekend due to rain and time constraints. So I am off......and running for today. More tomorrow when I get up with the chickens.

****************

Greenview has survived tornadoes, wind storms, great fires, crop devastation, deaths of very prominent people, deaths of the not so prominent, and deaths of just someone's loved ones. But the village goes on. Greenviewanites love their town. The operation of the town could describe just about any town in rural small town America. I found this poem long ago and have kept it .... it always reminds me of Greenview so I am posting it but forgive me please Mr. Author, as I amended it slightly to fit us.

OUR TOWN - original version by Jay Lude

A small town that most don’t know

That most will never see

Where kids storm through school halls

All chanting GGG!

There aren’t that many teachers

None of them are the same

I’ve gone here for years now

And some still don’t know my name

They’re like a pack of wolverines

Who dominate the school

Punishing you for your mistakes

Because it makes them feel cool

Most kids get along here

There’s no one I don’t know

We have the snobs and pretty boys

And children that are slow

We also have the brains

Who people call a geek

And you might not believe this

But we even have a Greek

Then there are them people

Who many think are whack

Who listen to rock and misfits

And wear nothing but black

I can’t forget the potheads

Or the ones who drink the rum

There really isn’t any jocks

The rest are plain old dumb

We like to meet at Emma's

That place can be quite scary

If you visit and no ones here

Look for the house of Barry

*************

Have a good day.