It's raining outside, but we're about to watch a parade that a monsoon couldn't put a damper on, and that is the annual Parade of Pans, where I give a little prize to the one with the ugliest pan that they still use.
I say it's annual because it will be if we do it next year, which we'll do if I'm living which I may or may not be, and if I don't forget about it by next year, which I will or I won't.
One thing wrong with this parade: it's short. It reminds me of the parade I witnessed one time where the policeman rode out on a motorcycle to get the parade started, then came the fire truck, then after that Santa Claus, and then everybody went home and that was all she wrote.
Our Parade of Pans is short for two reasons that I know of: one, some people couldn't get off their behinds to put up a picture or else they didn't have one because they were in the habit of throwing their old, ugly pans away, or so they say.
In my last letter, down there below the iron skillet clock, I made mention of Amanda and Karen and Jon, who made some comments, which I do appreciate, though they are disqualified from the contest because they didn't send me any pictures, which I wanted.
Add to their number Mrs. Sarah Evett Owens, who, when she heard about the contest said, "I'd win that one hands-down!" then flat refused to submit evidence. To Sarah I say "a haughty spirit goes before a fall."
And to all of you who had something to say but no pictures to show, I say: The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
When thinking of you all, I'm reminded of the place in Bible where it says "the race is not to the swift," but it is to those who bothered to put up pictures of their old pots and pans.
So, if you didn't put up, I have shut you up.
That's one reason why the parade is short this year. I mentioned there was another one, and here it is:
I’m sorry to say I got some pictures from some people who took some not-so-old pans and did something to make them look dirtier and more beat up than they were. That girl that helps me out said you can do that through a thing called Photoshop and she could tell from looking that they did and that people will do that in a heartbeat.
It pains me to say that there are people out there who will go out of their way to try and fake filth.
So, next up, to get us started, we'll take a little peek inside my daughter Lou Ann's filthy oven.
Stay tuned.
