Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie
Saying Goodbye, Taters, and Snoopy
DougMaynard.com
Doug Maynard

Saturday morning, and I’m enjoying the silence before everyone starts to get up, with the sole purpose of annoying me. I wish that I were joking, but I’m not. I’ve already had a productive morning. I got up. That in itself is pretty damn good. But then, I washed dishes, washed myself, changed the dressing on my foot, took out trash, fed the straybies, placed a delivery order at Walmart for some prescriptions and cat food, swept the kitchen, put breakfast in the oven, and scratched the cat’s head while giving him plenty of kisses until he tried to bite me. And now, here we are.

It’s amazing how much a person can accomplish when left alone with no help, no commentary, and no one telling them from the other room, “That’s not how I do it!” Yeah, she’s getting worse. Good days, bad days, etc., but I’m dealing with and handling things. I’m not quite as capable as I once was, but I’ll find a way, cause that’s what I do.

Hell, I’m about ready to turn on the charm, find me a strong woman to take control here, and make her my wife, just to get a break. And no, that’s not a typo. I prefer men by far, but most men, at least the ones I’m attracted to, would be more stress, more drama, and another person to take care of, adding to the burden rather than helping alleviate it. Women know how to get things done. Men know how to get themselves done, preferably by me, especially if they’re cute or twins. Damn, I need a good therapist, or an Uber Hug from one certain guy. Maybe I can find a set of fraternal twins, one male and one female? I can be with the guy, but his sister can help me take care of bid’ness and handle things? Hmmmm. Let me think on that.

I’ll quit complaining now and get to the current business. I hate this damn rain. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, Day of Dougie. That means discussing random topics from the Magic Bag and then engaging in discussion without preparation. Let’s do this. And the topics are Saying goodbye, Taters, and Snoopy. And now that we know, in the words of Al Bundy, “Damn Peg! Not again!”. Oops! Wrong quote. Let’s rock.

Saying Goodbye

I have never been good at saying “Goodbye”. It just seems so final and real. But then I think of all the people I never had the chance to say goodbye to, who are gone now. Yeah, it makes me sad. I do usually find a way to say goodbye in my own twisted methods, be it a visit to the grave, a toast with a cold beer, a silent prayer, or maybe a few lines in a poem, story, or blog. Most original characters in the fan fiction stories that I like to write are based on people I miss, be it the name, the mannerisms of the character, the description, etc. That way, it’s not goodbye, but more of a, ‘Hey, I’m thinking about you & checking in,’ deal. Goodbyes suck. There should always be a big hug, an ‘I love you’, and talk to you later. Keep the doors open. It’s not nearly as final. And so long as they’re in my heart, my memories, my essence, it’s never truly over. It’s just that I’ll see you when we meet again. ‘Nuff said!

Taters

Potato wedges sliced, battered with a coating of what used to be Henny Penny thirty years ago, but I don’t know what they use now, and deep fried for what I believe was 12-14 minutes. Available only at Nic’s Pic Kwik Convenience Stores, and damn, they are good! I worked at Nic’s for almost ten years, with two different stints, one for five years, and one, nearly twenty years later, for four and 1/2 years, and the memories. Some are good, and some are nightmares. The people, my coworkers. Some were awesome. Some were pure dipshits. The customers. Some were great, and some had me borderline ready to commit mass murder. But the one consistency. The taters. Damn, they were good!

Snoopy

We had a dog named Snoopy. Back in 1974, after Mom and Dad divorced, we moved to an apartment complex in Raleigh, NC. Quail Ridge Apartments. I wonder if they’re still there? While living there, one day a young puppy showed up. A black & white, part beagle and part cocker spaniel, and we named him Snoopy. I say he showed up because, given how we acquired many of our pets over the years, it’s highly possible my oldest brother and sister kidnapped/rescued him from someone’s yard and brought him home to our apartment. But regardless of how we got him, he was there. And he was a very good dog.

Snoopy stayed with us through several moves, from the apartment to our family home, to Concord, NC, back to Raleigh, to Maxton, and finally, here in Laurinburg. Other pets, be it dogs, cats, gerbils, hermit crabs, turtles, etc., came and went, but Snoopy was the consistent presence. He died in, I think, 1985, when he was struck by a car. He’s buried in our backyard. He was a very good boy. ‘Nuff said.

And there you go. My thanks for reading, listening to me complain, and being my shrink. This does help. And if you’re a person out there who wants to be part of my craziness and be a potential mate, let me know. Both genders are welcome, but only the boys are welcome for the freaky, dirty, fun stuff. I just need a partner to help me make it through and share the load. It doesn’t sound great. That, I admit. But you get me, and believe me, I’ve never had any complaints. Why do I feel an urge to say, “I’m Rick James, bitch!”. Anyhow, guys and girls, just consider this your dreams come true. Call me!

And that’s all for today. I’ll be back later to talk about wrestling, and possibly answer some questions from X. I’ve got a book to read, too, so there may be a book review up within the next few days at the site. The World According to Dutch, by Dutch Mantell. Watch for it. I’m down and I’m gone. I’ll see you later. Who loves you, baby!

Ubuntu!