How's Your Love Life?

Once more Slim Randles joins us as Wednesday's Guest with an update on how it is going with Marvin and his advice to the lovelorn. Grab your favorite beverage of choice and enjoy...

Things were going kinda slow down at the Fly Tying Love Center and it bothered Marvin Pincus a lot.

He found it hard to believe that, out of all the people in the valley, none of them needed love advice and the proper type of fishing fly to illustrate it. He had the sign made and put in the yard, and he’d obviously had great results with the Jones kid and good ol’ Dewey. Since Marvin’s advice to Dewey to shower before asking a girl for a date, Dewey Decker, the Fertilizer King, had met Emily Stickles, the love of his life.

Now the fishing-fly earrings part of the business was going great. Women all over town were wearing dingle-dangle earrings with Marvin’s point-clipped fishing flies hanging therefrom. He learned that short ladies tended to go for the smaller dries, like Griffith’s Gnats and Royal Coachmen, and the taller ladies leaned toward salmon streamers. For the “simple black dress” that women seem to need, Marvin discovered a pure black stonefly nymph tied on a number 6 to be just the right touch. Some of the ladies slipped Marvin’s wife, Marjorie, a couple of bucks to help buy more feathers and hooks.

But on the love advice front, there was a dearth of heartbroken customers.

“What would you think,” Marvin said, “if I ran an ad in the Valley Weekly Miracle?”

“For what?” Marjorie said at breakfast.

“You know … love advice.”

“Well, you have the sign out front. I think everyone in the valley already knows about it.”

“But they’re not coming in.”

Marjorie smiled. “Honey, some people find it hard to talk to others about their personal problems. That’s probably it.”

Marvin got a piece of paper and began writing. Then he’d scratch it out and start again. This went on through both bacon and toast.

“How’s it coming, Honey?”

“About got it right, I think, Marge.”

“May I see it?”

He handed it to her.

The best love advice in the valley, tied up with the appropriate fishing fly. Call the Fly Tying Love Center for an appointment. Results guaranteed.

“What do you think?”

Marjorie just smiled and nodded. What she thought, however, was that retirement isn’t for sissies.
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Brought to you by The Home Country Hour podcast. Check it out at www.slimrandles.com

Slim Randles writes a nationally syndicated column, Home Country, and is the author of a number of books including  Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. That title, and others, are published by  LPD Press.

Let's Go Fishing

Humor writer Slim Randles is back as today's Wednesday's Guest. This piece reminds me of all the great times I had fishing over the years. I can almost taste the perch we caught on the lake in Michigan and cleaned and fried right there on the beach. Yum. Then there were all the wall-eyes in South Dakota. Still my favorite fish. I caught quite a few trout in Nebraska, but they are my least favorite to eat. My garden sure loved them though. If you have a favorite fishing story, do share it if you'd like. Meanwhile, let's have a cool glass of lemonade this hot Texas day and enjoy....

Image Courtesty of KitchenTalks.com where you can read about the history of lemonade

“What do you figure he’ll weigh now, Doc?” said Steve. Mavis topped off their cups at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn coffee shop.

“A good three pounds, if my guessing is any good,” Doc said, shaking his head.

“Your dog?” asked Mavis.

“No, Hon,” Doc said with a smile, “Ol’ Lunker, that big trout down in Lewis Creek.”

The best fly tying and fly fishing had failed to bring O.L. to the net for a long time now. Oh, sometimes he’d investigate a fly closely and start a near panic attack in the angler, but then he’d turn back into his hole and let the fly drift on by. It was maddening.

“Maybe he’s just smart,” Dud said.

“Instinct, I think,” said Doc. “I just don’t think any trout is all that smart. But instinct could account for it. He knows what he wants to eat, and somehow, the flies we send him just don’t quite look right, or smell right, or float properly, or sink fast enough. Who knows?”

“I’ve tied my best for him,” Marvin Pincus said, looking semi-depressed. “I swear I don’t know what that fish wants.”

“You’re the best fly tier in the valley, Marvin,” Steve added. “If your flies can’t do it, I’m wondering if anything can.”

“Have you tried using bait?” Mavis asked. “My brother does okay with worms and salmon eggs.”

Every member of the world dilemma think tank gave hostile stares at their friendly waitress until she remembered something in the kitchen and left in a hurry.

“Bait? Use BAIT?” Doc moaned.

Marvin nodded. “Might just as well shoot the dang fish.”

Life, after all, would mean nothing without standards and values. 
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Brought to you by Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. Learn more at www.lpdpress.com

Monday Morning Surprise

Since I spent the morning taking care of gardening chores and laundry, I was really late getting into my office and now it is way past noon and I'm just now trying to come up with an idea for the blog. Since none have come to me in the last ten minutes of staring at the blank screen, I decided this would be a good time to let humorist, Slim Randles, entertain you with one of his Home Country columns. It's been a while since he has been a guest here, and do come back Wednesday to meet another new guest blogger, who will show up now and then with some Ponderations from the Back Porch.
 

One of my chores was feeding all my blooming plants on the front deck.

“You seem kinda low this morning, Sweetie,” Marjorie said.

“Business has been kinda slow for a while now, and it’s wedding season,” he said.

Marvin Pincus’s “business” of course, is free love counseling combined with free fly tying, in hopes of bringing connubial jocularity to anyone who might need it. Hey, a retired guy has to do something.

But just at that moment there was a knock on the door, and standing there was Three-Chord Cortez. T.C. looked anxiously up and down the street. It wouldn’t look good for the fabled bunkhouse balladeer to be seen applying for love counseling.

Marvin took T.C. into his den and Marjorie brought the embarrassed cowhand some coffee. When the door had been safely closed, Cortez looked at Marvin.

“Mr. Pincus,” he said, “you may not know it, but I kinda have a reputation for being a ladies’ man.” Marvin nodded. “But … I guess I do okay … but sometimes I just feel … used … you know?”  Marvin nodded again. “These women today just seem to have …” he looked around and whispered  “one thing on their minds. I’d like to find a woman who likes me for who I am … inside, you know?” Marvin nodded. “I mean, I can serenade their socks off and have plenty of dates, but it’s just a hot Saturday night kinda life.”

Marvin smiled. “T.C., I know what you mean. I’ve heard about your success serenading the girls, but I can see you may be ready to … shall we say … settle down?”

Three-Chord (named for his semi-skill at guitar picking) nodded.

“OK, so let’s get to work.”

Marvin put a big number-two salmon streamer hook in the fly vise, and Cortez stood and watched him. Marvin’s skilled hands soon tied a weighted solid-black stonefly nymph and handed it to T.C..

“Substantial and solid,” Marvin said, “without all the gaudiness of a salmon streamer. It will bring out the real you, T.C..”

“Thank you, sir,” Cortez said.

“And T.C.?  I want you to not even kiss a girl until after the third date. Let her get to know you.”

The long-riding lothario’s mouth dropped open, showing the pearly white teeth that had melted so many hearts.

“Is that even possible, Mr. Pincus?”

“Work on it, my boy. Work on it.”

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Brought to you by the brand-new internet radio program “The Home Country Hour.” Listen in at www.slimrandles.com.

Advice for the Lovelorn

My Wednesday's Guest today is my friend Slim Randles. If it wasn't for him, I would probably have a lot of blank pages on Wednesdays. (smile) Thanks to Slim for being so generous with his work. He doesn't get paid for this. I don't get paid for this. We just do it because we like to share the stories and have a chuckle or two.  And while Slim is making us smile here, I am over at The Blood Red Pencil having a bit of fun. Enjoy....

The car pulled up in front of the sign that said “Fly Tying Love Center.”


Marvin lifted the magnifying lenses above his head and got up from his fly-tying bench and walked to the front room. He looked out the window at the woman staring at his sign.
“Do you know her, Marge?”

“Mrs. Richardson. Ardis’s mom. She might have a first name but I don’t know what it is.”

Mrs. Richardson was admitted and smiled.

“Do love flies work for people my age?” she asked. “Because if they’re just for kids, it won’t do me any good, will it? Well, I was saying to Ardis just this morning, if you think a love fly will help me find a guy, maybe I should go over and see Marvin Pincus, that’s what I told her and she said, ‘Mother, that’s a good idea. I know Marvin and Marjorie and they’re really nice people.’ Now wasn’t that nice of her to say that? Of course it was. Well, Marvin, may I call you Marvin? Good. Well, Marvin, you see, ever since I lost Mr. Richardson … he passed about 10 years ago now. You might have known him, worked down at the water company, and he was one of their best employees, too. Well, ever since he passed, I’ve been kind of lonely, you know? Of course you do. That’s how you can help all these people with the love flies. So will you tie one for me? I was hoping you would. Where do you want me to sit?”

Marvin pointed to the green easy chair in the consulting room/fly tying parlor and excused himself for a minute to retrieve something from the laundry room. Then he came back in and sat at his vise and began tying a larger than usual fly.

“… certainly I have Ardis, but she wants to have her own life, too, you know. You know those young folks, right? So here I am, ready to find someone and get your advice on finding the right man and getting that lucky love fly. I’ve heard you have done really well with other people, and this is really exciting for me. You don’t talk much, do you? Well, that’s not necessarily bad. Mr. Richardson didn’t talk much, either. Sometimes he’d leave me little notes when he left for work, but when he was home he was awfully quiet. Talked with Ardis a lot, though. Never could figure that out. Men are strange, aren’t they?”

Marvin held his hand up for silence, then handed her what look like a large bass bug tied on a wooden clothespin.

“That looks like a wooden clothespin…”

“It is,” Marvin said, holding up his hand for silence again. “My sincere advice to you, Mrs. Richardson, is when you meet a good man, clip this fly to your ear lobe and it’ll remind you to just smile and not say anything.”

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Brought to you by Home Country (the book). Read a free sample at www.slimrandles.com

Guest Post from Slim Randles

Here is another guest post from my friend and fellow writer, Slim Randles.  I do appreciate the fact that he is so generous to share his column "Home Country"  with my readers here.

Dewey Decker silently shoveled cow manure into the back of his pickup, but for the first time, his heart wasn’t in it.

He knew he had it to do, so he did it. Scoop, toss. Scoop toss. Then, when the bed was full, he somberly drove to town and unloaded it onto the many compost piles behind his house.

Then he drew compost from the bottom and put that in the truck. Scoop, toss. Scoop toss.

Then off he went in the pickup with the sign reading Environmental Enrichment Services and delivered the magnificent new garden amendments to one of his customers. Again … scoop, toss and spread. Scoop, toss, spread.

Normally, this would have filled his day with a sense of accomplishment, secure in the knowledge that he was making the world a little richer by his labors. But today it only warranted a sigh.

He quit work at noon, took a shower and went to the Mule Barn truck stop for lunch.

Even that didn’t help.

“Pull up a chair, Dewey,” said Dud, jovially. “We were just talking about the shellacking Ol’ Marve gave the county people.”

Partially through town support, and largely through the efforts of Dewey himself, Marvin Pincus had been allowed to continue counseling the lovelorn and tying appropriate flies for their therapy. It was the talk of the valley.

“Yes,” Dewey nodded. “That was good.”

“You feeling okay, Doo?” asked Doc.

“Sure. I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. While his outer shell delighted in fertilizing life in the valley, his heart lay fallow. How could they understand what Emily meant to him. Oh yes, he thought of her now as Emily and not as Ms. Stickles, the county love advice coordinator.   

In his mind, she walked with a graceful air, smiling that soft smile that melted his heart and changed his outlook forever.

He picked at his burger and fries and then paid his bill and left. Mindlessly he drove the fertilizer pick-up around town, eventually noticing that he kept passing Marvin Pincus’s house.

Of course. This was a problem for the Fly Tying Love Center.

He pulled up and stopped.

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Home Country is a syndicated column that appears in  several hundred newspapers across the country. This installment is brought to you by Slim’s new book “A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right.” Learn more at http://www.nmsantos.com/Slim/Slim.html.

Advice for the lovelorn

Heading into the last three days of the Youth Drama Camp. It has been fun, but I am anxious to have my days back. LOL  Here is an offering from my friend, Slim Randles for you to enjoy.

Things were going kinda slow down at the Fly Tying Love Center and it bothered Marvin Pincus a lot.

He found it hard to believe that, out of all the people in the valley, none of them needed love advice and the proper type of fishing fly to illustrate it. He had the sign made and put in the yard, and he’d obviously had great results with the Jones kid and good ol’ Dewey. Since Marvin’s advice to Dewey to shower before asking a girl for a date, Dewey Decker, the Fertilizer King, had had several dates with nice young women.

Now the fishing-fly earrings part of the business was going great. Women all over town were wearing dingle-dangle earrings with Marvin’s point-clipped fishing flies hanging therefrom. He learned that short ladies tended to go for the smaller dries, like Griffith’s Gnats and Royal Coachmen, and the taller ladies leaned toward salmon streamers. Some of the ladies slipped Marvin’s wife, Marjorie, a couple of bucks to help buy more feathers and hooks.

But on the love advice front, there was a dearth of heartbroken customers.

“What would you think,” Marvin said, “if I ran an ad in the Valley Weekly Miracle?”

“For what?” Marjorie said at breakfast.

“You know … love advice.”

“Well, you have the sign out front. I think everyone in the valley already knows about it.”

“But they’re not coming in.”

Marjorie smiled. “Honey, some people find it hard to talk to others about their personal problems. That’s probably it.”

Marvin got a piece of paper and began writing. Then he’d scratch it out and start again. This went on through both bacon and toast.

“How’s it coming, Honey?”

“About got it right, I think, Marge.”

“May I see it?”

He handed it to her.

The best love advice in the valley, tied up with the appropriate fishing fly. Call the Fly Tying Love Center for an appointment. Results guaranteed.

“What do you think?”

Marjorie just smiled and nodded her head. What she thought, however, was that retirement isn’t for sissies.

                                                        ------------------

Brought to you by Slim’s new book “A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right.” Learn more at http://www.nmsantos.com/Slim/Slim.html