Forty-one years with the same man. Inconceivable!
Happy Anniversary, Studly Doright.
Category: Life
Motorcycle Man
Our Texas grandkids are visiting us here at Doright Manor, and the prime attractions are their motorcycles.
Jackson wasted no time in gearing up and cranking the engine:
Dominique had to make sure her hair fit under her helmet:
Good times with Poppa!
Thief with a Conscience
I am on a road trip from our home in Florida to our son's home in Texas. Studly Doright called me yesterday to say someone using my American Express card has been buying stuff all over the world including plane tickets to exotic destinations and a pinball machine.
This morning he called to ask if I'd just made a sizable donation to Doctors Without Borders. While I hadn't, I applauded the thief's social conscience. I just wish he/she had waited for a more convenient time to steal my card. Like never.
Irrelevant picture of an alligator.
Oldie #6: Whatchamacallit
Words amuse me. After visiting Ireland I find that I’m even more interested in colloquialisms and regional sayings. Learning just a smidgen of Irish Gaelic had me scrambling to find this old piece from the early days of my blog. Fittingly, I couldn’t remember what I’d called it. Go figure.
Oldie #5: Bad Karaoke
When one’s singing is so awful it requires police intervention, that’s really bad karaoke.
Oldie #1: A Thigh Slapping Good Time
Shehanne Moore encouraged me to republish some of my older stuff on WordPress. Well, it doesn’t get much older than this piece. I give you my second blog post on WP.
https://nananoyz5forme.com/2014/07/11/a-thigh-slapping-good-time/
Happy Father’s Day
This was originally posted on Sunday, June 17, 2016.
Gerald Delane Hall
Husband
Father
Grandfather 
Brother
Son
Great grandfather
Friend
A special man, my dad, not perfect, heck, he didn’t even try to be. But he was fun:
–Teller of inappropriate jokes, and a gambling fool.
–Measurer of miles in terms of six packs consumed.
–Lacking political correctness, yet treated everyone as an equal.
–Maker of friends wherever he went.
–Soft of heart.
–My biggest fan.
I miss this man.
Love is…
Love is…
When you’re hungry, but you know if you get up to fix something you’ll wake up your sleeping husband and the cat, so you just sit and slowly starve to death.
They’re both snoring, by the way.
That Would be Me in the Middle.
Blow
Blow
By Leslie Noyes (with Studly’s assistance)
It was a riotous Friday night here at Doright Manor. I was sitting in my chair trying to come up with ideas for this blog, and Studly Doright was sitting next to me in his chair watching Storage Wars on the telly and occasionally reaching over to fondle my, um, upper arm.
No decent writing ideas were coming to me, so in desperation I turned to Studly and said, “Give me a word.”
Now, I cannot type what he said because sometimes his mother reads this blog.
“I can’t use that word,” I said. “It’s not that kind of blog.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you needed the word for your blog. That changes everything.”
So he gave me another, equally vulgar word.
“Last chance, smarty pants,” I said. “Just give me a decent word.”
See the title of this post? Yep, that was half of what he said. I don’t know why I bother.
Praying for Eyebrowz 