The Treaty Has Been Signed!

     Before I get into my thoughts for the day and sharing with you the events tat have transpired as to the invasion, I want to acknowledge my new reader/readers in Poland.  I want to warmly welcome you and offer this bit of advice--Don't try to make any sense of my writings.  They mean absolutely nothing in the scheme of the world.  In fact, I admit that most of what I write in this setting is mindless drivel and means absolutely nothing.
     I actually have some friends who are Polish.  Wait, that isn't exactly true.  He was my chiropractor and was a big guy, a body builder. I think he was only half Polish and half Czech.  We used to play golf together and he used to crack my back. Our friendship remained strong even though he moved to Utah.  There is a lot of that going on, people moving out of California. I guess there are too many loonies--uh, excuse me, crazy people--running California. Putting a tax on the number of miles you drive in addition to the gas and sales taxes, come on.
      I suppose that I could say that I was almost directly impacted by the Polish, not to mention the Germans and the Japanese. My father had a Polish girlfriend before World War Two when he lived in Connecticut.  Her name was Helen as far as the story goes, She would cook Dad golumke (cabbage roles) and kielbasa. I like kielbasa but hate cabbage roles.  Helen was close to being my mother, but then the war came and Dad went into the Air Corps. He bid adieu to Helen and never looked back.
     Eventually he was stationed at Hammer Field in Fresno where he met my mother.  Mom was--she passed away last year--Italian. If you want to be accurate about the whole story she was Italian but ethnically Albanian.  She didn't speak Italian but a dialect of Albanian which we can also tell this story as well, but I won't. Maybe that's why a lot of people think that I am a bit weird--I say  I'm just different and defend that stance.  My good friend once said I am the way I am because of the mumps that brought the high fever when I was twenty, but I was weird--um, different--way before then.
     So, instead of golumke and kielbassa on Sunday afternoons after Mass, we had homemade spaghetti with a rich sausage/meat sauce over it and lots of romano cheese.  To this day, I still like a lot of cheese on my spaghetti, but I'm off subject here. I no longer go to the Catholic Church and have married a fine woman who is English or some sort of such. We go to a Presbyterian Church and have Mexican food after church or go to the local Applebee's.  Isn't life great!

So, I don't have many food pictures and definitely don't have a picture of a golumke. This will have to do.