From the Back Porch

 

Hayter for February 16, 2025

“Live from the Back porch”

It’s cold and wet out here. I should’ve warned you. Then again, since we’re not currently

in the same time frame, it may have already gotten warm. It can be a pain in the rear to follow

this columnist.

As you cannot see, I’m drinking a cup of cold non-perked coffee, only because it’s been

in the back of the fridge for a good while. Normally I would ask if you would like me to get you

a cup of imagined coffee. But it’s too cold out here to brew pretend coffee.

Speaking of which, I got rid of my old Keurig and bought a new one. It makes different

noises, even without having any bells and whistles. I get excited about new stuff. The old Keurig

was getting as slow as an empty ice maker. The coffee was well brewed, but that’s all the

machine could do. Can you believe that? All that thing did was brew coffee--every day for 10

years!

It was easy to clean, because I have no memory of ever doing it. My only down time was

spent refilling the water reservoir. I had to wrestle the thing off the machine, every day—for a

decade! I’ve developed quite the grip.

My coffee maker has revolutionized the brewing of coffee. I thought something like this

would only come around after I was dead. With AI doing magical stuff with prunes, it will likely

make it possible to simply imagine having a cup of coffee, and one appears on the coffee table.

When I was a kid we used to have a couple of coffee tables, but they should’ve been called tea

tables, because that’s usually what we set on them.

You didn’t ask, but I prefer my coffee to be strong. In fact, I purchased a small bottle of

instant Folger’s to strengthen the weak coffee that Kay bought for me. She likes the smell of

coffee but hates to taste it. I like the taste of iced tea, but hate to drink Kay’s because she adds a

fruit taste. What a way to ruin tea.

Speaking of frothing, my new Keurig has one attached to it. I like my cream frothed, but I

don’t like to the clean the frother because I can’t spare the time. Plus, while cleaning it, I

occasionally manage to nick my pointer finger on the blade. That’s why I’ve only used it once.

By the way, there’s been some thievery in our house. Over the past month, we’ve lost

four forks from our utensil tray. At the moment, we only have four of the eight. If we were to

invite three people over for a meal, one of them would have to eat with a spoon. There’s a chance

I would volunteer to use the spoon, because I’m as good with a spoon as any two-year-old.

Speaking of which, we’re now gaining spoons. Losing forks while gaining spoons, A

force is really messing with me. No one messes with Kay because she’s too sweet. But me?

“Let’s steal some his forks and add to his stash of spoons while he’s taking a nap.

What’s weird is we haven’t invited guests over to eat since COVID19 or 27--I can’t

remember. Regardless, if someone eats at the table with us, they’ll have to raise their masks so

they can stick one of our four forks into their mouth. Way too much trouble for a guest.

Good grief. I practically forgot that we were sitting on the back porch. That should be

easier for you to forget than me… or I. (one of us) By the way, look over at the two rose bushes

that are between the birdbath and the six-foot tall make-believe windmill. The rose bushes are

small, leafless and rose-less. Since they only produce a few roses in season, Kay wants to dig

them up, because they never look as good as the roses our neighbors have.

Unfortunately, I missed Kay’s point. When the roses eventually bloom, they’ll look

beautiful, but won’t look nearly as good as those in our neighborhood. The only way our

neighbors could see our few roses, is to climb the six-foot wooden fence around our house. I just

don’t think it would be worth the climb.

It doesn’t matter. I’m proud of Kay for taking care of the plant life in the yard, so I should

not make a big stink over the roses. I’ll wait for her to start throwing away some of my fun stuff

that I haven’t used in years. But one day they’ll get another trip outdoors. Hopefully it won’t

involve a place in a garbage truck.

Oh, before leaving, I’ve got to ask you something. “How about those Chiefs?” I invited

Jill over to watch the game with us. She was pulling for the Eagles. You know why? Because

Larry, our oldest sibling, doesn’t like “Malone”. That’s what he calls “Patrick Mahomes”… bless

his heart. I shouldn’t make fun of Larry, because I am on the cusp of losing my own mind. Of

course, I’m hanging in there like grim death. (Yes, “grim death” came from the movie “One on

One”. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend you go online and find it.)

Anyway, Jill was cheering for the Eagles all the way. However, she made it a point not to

run down my team. She didn’t need to, because I was doing enough trashing of them. Who on

earth were those guys? They played like the Chicago Black Socks during the 1919 World Series!

I don’t believe they intentionally lost, because if they had they wouldn’t have made it look so

easy.

The good that evening was that I grilled two racks of ribs. They were the best, Jerry. But

the really best thing about them, is the fact that Kay and Jill do not like leftover ribs. That’s the

most ridiculous and wonderful thing about last Sunday. By the way, it’s hard to finish a rack of

ribs by your lonesome. I would’ve never guessed. Just like I never guessed that the Chief’s

would lose. Yeah, it still hurts… which happens to be the last name of the Eagles quarterback.

There’s definitely weird stuff going on.                                

end

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