The lovely Mrs Sneed is off to Phoenix for some conference and won't return until Saturday evening. I think we all know what that means...p-a-r-t-y!! So far the partying has gotten off to a slow start. I'm the only one who has shown up, but things should be picking up soon. In the meantime, here's a story about glass. Sort of. When I was seven or so, we lived in Guam, the largest and southernmost of the Mariana Islands, in the Northern Pacific. In the days before the Japanese bought every available square inch of real estate, Guam's main industry was the US military, which was why I was there. My old man was a Master Sergeant in the US Air Force and was stationed at Anderson AFB from May 1956, to June 1958. Anderson occupies the northern end of the island. Our home was off the base and down the highway toward the capital city of Agana, as it was known then. It was renamed Hagatna to root out the Spanish influence and bring back the traditional name. Down the road from our house, within walking distance, was a market run by a local family. The locals were called Guamanians by most folks, but they refer to themselves as Chamorrros or Chamorrus too. Chamorro are the native people of Guam, prior to their various conquerings. The Chamorro people have been conquered politically, economically and militarily by the Phillipine, Spanish, American and Japanese governments in recent history. Like native Hawaiians, it is rare to find a Chamorro who isn't of mixed heritage because of all the interlopers hanging around making eyes at the locals. Anyway, a neighbor family took me along to the market one day, and as boys will do, my friend and I began to horse around in the store. Sometime during the horseplay, we knocked over a giant pyramid of one-gallon bottles of soy sauce. Who thinks making a pyramid of glass bottle of soy sauce is a good idea is beyond me, but the owner did it and we broke about ten bottles of the stuff. Ten gallons of soy sauce doesn't smell that good, and is made even more unpleasant by the owner of the stuff yelling about who is going to pay for the mess. There was a lot of he said/he said with respect to who did the actual breaking and in the end, my old man had to pony up about ten bucks to get the owner of the store off his case. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky