Letter from Uncle Skeet

Wait up a minute here! I had better preamble this thing cause you might click on this blog and think, "Why, this is gonna be dull and boring. Who's Uncle Skeet, anyhow?"

Uncle Skeet is one of my far flung relatives that, from time to time, writes me a letter from his home down on Rebel Ridge in Deep East Texas and who is many things to many people but usually not boring.

He can be entertaining, interesting, amusing, aggravating, insensitive, maddening, and a host of other things.

Sometimes you are going to want to scream at Uncle Skeet, pick your laptop up and chunk it out your window and sometimes you will sit down, read Skeet's letters and cry your eyes out.

Well, I may be promising too much here entirely, since Skeet is notoriously unreliable. He may write a hundred letters one month and then I won't hear a peep out of him or his close kin for weeks and months.

But you can bet that if yall hang in here and check often, one day you too will be blessed with Uncle Skeets wisdom, be infuriated by his knotheadedness and entertained by one of his stories.

Thanks and we look forward to bringing you Uncle Skeet! Psst, Skeet don't know we are bloggin his letters, so yall be sure and not tell him, ok?

I am going to try to not edit too much.


Deer Ralf an fambly

We sure are worried bout the weather down here on Rebel Ridge this past month or so. Seems like we can't get enuff of either rain or sunshine and there aint no lettin up of either one.

You sure nuff never get the right amount of rain and I aint never had one solitary soul step up on my porch and say somethin like "Skeet! We sure have had rain aplenty this week and dont look like we need anymore right now!"

We ALWAYS need some rain, looks like.

Speakin of rain, I hear they get a fair amount way down there in that South America where yore third cousin Bubba Ray took off too more'n five years hence.

I aint sure but they all say he went down there to work on them land oil rigs somewhere in one of them countries like Venzuella or somewhere but now personally this here's MY opinion. Bubba Ray left about two steps of the Sabine County law and he's so dang dumb he didn't know he could just move right over there to San Augustine Co. to hide out. Nossir, Bubba went all the way down to South America.

Anyhow, Bubba Rays keeps in touch through the US Mail service and he sends cards and letters and ever once in awhile Bubba sends us a little old gift to make yore Auntie Ethelyene happy.

Along about last week we wuz sittin out on the porch enjoying the weather when old Billy Conner, the post office feller came amblin up and announces we got a package from Bubba.

We think alot of old Bubba Ray, even if he is a runnin from the law, and since we aint seen him in a long time we wuz pert near excited to get his package!

Lo and behold we opend the box and inside was a LIVE BIRD! A little green bird, bout a foot tall with a little yeller topnotch on his head and a big old hooked beak! Bubba sent us that thang live all the way from South America!

I tell yall somthin! That bird was DELICIOUS!!!

We had him for Sunday dinner. Fixed him up with some dressin an sweet potaters and some rice on the side!

Well, bye and bye, Bubba called down to the store at the foot of the hill and it bein long distance, me and yore aunt Ethelyene trotted down there and took Bubba's call. Bubba fisrt off asked did we get the bird and I said we sure did! Bubba wanted to know how we liked the bird and I said "He wuz DELICIOUS!"

Bubba wuz shocked! He said "You dont mean yall ATE that danged bird!" an I said "of course we did!"

Bubba Ray got all bent out of shape and said "Uncle, I paid a fortune for that old bird! Why he's worth more than two white-footed mules! That bird could speak in two different languages!"

I said "Well....he shoulda said something!"

Yall be careful and we'll write you more down the line.

Yore Uncle Skeet