I've been on the mend

It's been a real hum-dinger of spring, I'll tell you that much. I spent most of it bedeviled by a hornet's nest of ailments I wouldn't wish on my own worst enemy. Seems like my feet, back and heart were all in cahoots with one another and gave old Sherm' the bums rush.

Well, after some extended convalescence, I'm feeling much more spry. Heck, I may even take the horse out for a trot later today. Or maybe I'll help Mildred with some gardening. Speaking of the missus, that woman is rock. She should get some sort of medal for how she's wet-nursed me through the years. I'll be forever grateful to the man upstairs that I met her at that USO shindig back in the 20's.

Painting tips

Aside from galloping around on a horse or knocking back some quality hooch, nothing relaxes me like painting. I've been putting the brush to canvas for about 70 years now, and I still manage to learn something new every time, as fruity as that sounds.

I always had a knack for doodlin', as far back as I can remember. Later, when I was serving overseas in the first World War, I saw some famous paintings in some frog museum. The subject matter of most of the stuff there was a little out of left field for my meat-and-potato tastes, but I sure liked the bright colors. After that I was hooked, and bought some paints as soon as I got stateside.

I guess I'm what you would call a realist painter. Mostly figurative stuff, like people I know, or horses. I never cottoned to that cubism or impressionism malarkey, or anything with an "ism" at the end for that matter. Call me old fashioned, but I like someone to look at my paintings and know exactly what it is they're looking at. What point is there to painting a picture if someone has to stand there scratching their heads and craning their necks sideways tryin' to figure out what the blazes it is? Nowadays people will plunk down more than the cost of house to buy something that looks like my cross-eyed nephew spilled his egg cream on it! Hard to figure.

Anyway, here's some shots of some of my work. These are pretty old, back from my time in Korea, but they'll give you an idea of where I'm coming from.

This was our company clerk. He used to wear dresses. So I thought it would be a neat to paint him in a manly pose, like an old Greek athlete. Ironic, I guess you'd call it. Boy, that kid sure had a schnoz on him.



This is one of the whole gang I painted for Mildred as an
anniversary present. It still hangs in my dining room.



Our chief surgeon. He was quite a card. This is what some guy wearing a beret would call "forced perspective."


Here's one of my thumb. About as conceptual as an old buzzard like me will ever get. It probably won't get added to the Museum of Modern Art anytime soon, but I like it.

The taxman is taking a bite outta my hide

Mildred and I paid a visit to our accountant / horse doctor this past weekend in order to get our 2007 taxes squared away. I know Uncle Sam is owed his due, and that he needs tax money to fix the roads and build tanks and barracks and such, but I just wish he didn't feel the need to vacuum out my piggy bank every year. If this keeps up, me and the missus may have to hightail it to Florida. For pete's sake, I spent most of my life serving my country, so you'd think I could get a pass. But no, I've got to pay the piper just like everyone else.

Give an old timer a break, will ya?

I've been getting a saddle full of emails lately, all jumping up my skirt for not blogging enough. Jumpin' Jimmney Crickets, what do you people want? Do you know how hard it is just for me to make a successful trip to the latrine at my age? I'm lucky to be breathing, and you yokels expect me to be banging away at the computer day and night. Well, to blazes with you all! Ol' Sherm didn't almost get his keister shot off in 4 different wars just to be a monkey who dances to whatever tune you play. No sir-ree! I'll blog when the spirit moves me, or when my arthritis decides to decides to take a siesta. Whichever comes first.

Who am I voting for?

None of your beeswax, that's who. Listen - when a fella steps into a voting booth and draws the curtain, which lever he pulls is something he should only share with his wife, or maybe his clergyman. Nowadays everyone's squawking about "I'm voting for this guy because of blah blah blah..." My advice? Can it, and pronto. Ol' Sherm doesn't need to hear your life story. I've read the book, seen the movie - nincompoops like you are a dime a dozen.

Plus, the bozos that pass for candidates nowadays aren't worth squat. Hoover! Eisenhower! Roosevelt! Now those were candidates worthy of a vote!

Now that Ive blown off a little steam, I guess what I'm really sayin' is that I hope you fulfill your constitutional and patriotic duty and vote this year. It'd be a real shame if you didn't.

I'm thinkin' of giving Comcast the heave-ho

I just got my first tab in the mailbox for our new DSL line, and Jumpin' Jack Armstrong, I thought I was going to faint when I opened it up - it's darn near 60 clams a month! That was the monthly nut on my first house back in the 30's, now it barely gets you email. Why one measly wire and a box with a couple lights on it costs that much is a dome-scratcher, that's for sure.

I guess it's just one more sign that our big blue marble is going to H-E-double hockey sticks in a handbasket, and pronto.

Let me bend your ear about horses

In my book, there is no more noble creature on God’s green earth than the horse. All they ask for is some hay and a decent pair of shoes, maybe a carrot now and then, and in return you’re rewarded with a friend that will never shoot you a cross-eyed look. I rode my first one when I joined the cavalry back in 1915, when I was but a wee lad of 15 years old, and well – let’s just say that something clicked. Life just looks different from on top of a horse. When a fella plops his keyster on a saddle, he feels like he can do just about anything.

One of my favorite horses was a beaut’ named Sophie I took care of back during the Korean frackas. I had to leave her behind when things wound down over there, and I often wondered what became of her. I figure she was either hitched to a plow for the rest of her life or immediately turned into a stew. Who knows.

Here’s a dusty old snapshot of me painting of picture of Sophie with a retired old Korean general sitting on her. I gave the painting to the general’s family so that they could hang it in a place of honor in their hut. For all I know, the painting may have been cut up and turned into a stew as well. Korean folk are a proud people with a rich heritage, but it's been my experience that they'll eat just about anything they can get their mitts on.



And here’s a close-up I painted of her. I’m no Picasso, but I have my moments.

Confound it all

I've gone and grown a boil on my right foot. Hurts like the Dickens, I don't mind telling you. I guess when you've been wearing combat boots for the better part of a century, the chickens are eventually going to come home to roost. I remember getting some foot care tips from none other than Harry S. Truman back in the service, so I guess I'll have to see if I can shake 'em loose from the old noodle. Until then I'm just gonna have to make do with a bucket and some epsom salts. I tell ya - some days it just doesn't pay to get out of the cot.

Howdy

Well, if this don't take the cake.

You'd think that after serving in three different wars, a fella would have seen it all. And to be sure, these peepers of mine have drank in some sights that would curl your hair : The introduction of artillery, the first aerial combat, soldiers wearing dresses, and more perforated bowels than I care to remember.

But here I am, pecking away at this new-fangled typewriter doohickey, and I'm told that all I have to do is hit "enter" and before you know it, Ol' Sherm's opinion will show up all around the world. At first I said "Holy Hemostat!" ( or maybe I said "Sufferin' Sheepdip!", I'm not sure - things are kinda foggy these days), but I'm trying to get the drop on all this newfangled technology. I guess it's a good thing we got that high-speed DSL line installed after all.

Anyhoo - I'll be making myself heard visa-vi this here page on a somewhat consistent basis. Check in and you can hear me squawk about this and that. Maybe I'll even post Mildred's special recipe for apple compote. If I can pry it out of her hands, that is. That woman is tougher than a belt made from a sun-burned rattlesnake.