What I Have In Common With Picasso

Well, didn't Picasso have his little "Blue Period"?  Hmm?  And can I not have one, too?  So cold I've turned blue.

Actually, I'm just trying to figure out how to upload photographs and suchlike.  I want to make this blog exciting and wet and wild and wonderful.  Got the wet pretty well down, thanks to that recent cold front.  Now to get on with the wild and wonderful parts.

Cater-corner across the street the BS Saloon is hopping.  Sorta.  A few voices lift themselves above the crowd to let us know that, yes, they're having a great time at the friendly neighborhood bar where cheap beer flows abundantly.

I go there of a morning to pick up snipes.  Snipes.  Dictionary definitions we don't have, dear heart, but snipes are discarded cigarette butts, collected by those with the addiction and little cash.  They are lovingly or not-so-lovingly torn to shreds and pulverized and rolled in paper and lit on fire.

The native americans considered it a sacrament.

So do I.