Horseshoe's blog: Where's the mail?

<p>My Daughter lost her tiny phone last week. Ya'll probably know them as cell phones. Me? I'm of a mind to believe cell phones need to be as big as a good ol' fashioned house phone so your ear bone is at one end of the receiver and your mouth speaks directly into the talking part. Holding something up to your ear that's only big enough that the other end just barely reaches your first molar sure seems like no one will hear a word you're trying to say. Oh well, enough of that talk. Maybe more on that topic later.</p>
<p>It's been 7 days since we ordered that tiny phone. The company says "3 to 5 days for delivery". Hmmm, this has me thinkin'. The problem may lie with our local mail delivery driver, Buford Majestic.</p>
<p>Buford's been around here for so many years we all just put up with his eccentric ways. He delivers the mail on his tractor. In his defense I must add it's a real nice tractor though, 'cept one of the back tires has a slow leak. Unfortunately since tractor tire patches are up to $1.97 each, instead of patching it he carries a portable air pump that hooks up to his battery, stopping to inflate his tire every so many miles. (If you ask me I think it’s an easy excuse to stop at Porkchop’s House of Pigmeat Cafe for his morning bacon biscuit and a cup of free coffee while he waits for the tire to pump up, ever so slowly.)</p>
<p>Other than taking his merry ol’ time delivering there are seldom any complaints. Well, except when he was delivering groceries for the local Red and White. At that time milk would arrive curdled into farmers cheese and ice cream resembled sweet yogurt or kefir. The only other calamity was sometimes canned goods would be puffed out on the ends. That was remedied when we pointed out the saddlebags that straddled the tractor engine were getting too hot, causing all kinds of problems to fresh and canned food alike. Oh well, like I said, we’re all grateful he is now delivering mail.</p>
<p>A few minutes ago I called Buford's party line. For those of you too young to know what a party line is that's what the whole world used to operate with, except maybe the President. (That was one of the perks that made him richer than the rest of us, or so he thought.) Now known as a "land line" telephone lines used to share several houses at once. That was back when the telephone companies, like most of us still are, were frugal. It was quite common to pick up your phone and instead of hearing a dial tone you'd hear Uncle Susie Barnaby talkin' to Bernie Barnaby about that dang squirrel runnin' off with her false teeth, or sumpin' like that. But, again, that's a story for another time.</p>
<p>Buford's wife, Verlina Mae, listened to my story about the lost phone, the new one being ordered, how much it cost, and how a whistle pig was eating up my corn patch and decided she could help out. She was kind enough to stop washing up a mess of greens and take a peek out the kitchen window at the tractor. When she came back to the phone (the cord only reaches just so far, ya know) she told me the saddle bags still looked a bit pooched out with some items in them so perhaps one of them is my daughter's new tiny phone. She assured me she'd remind Buford to make sure he came by MoonDance Farm tomorrow. Oh yeh, she also mentioned that if the whistle pig didn't eat all the sweet corn could I please put a dozen ears in an empty side of the saddle bags...?</p>
<p>I love life. Happy Day to All.</p>

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