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Musings

  • It’s officially allergy season here in Indiucky.  By that, I mean that every darned tree and bush Irish Woman has planted in our yard is trying to kill me with its reproductive cycle.
    • On a side note, you know you waited too late to take a Benadryl before bedtime when you wake up the next morning and have trouble working the coffee maker and toothbrush.
  • Boo has begun doing extra chores to make money.  So far, he has learned how to do a load of laundry with supervision, clear the table, bring empty trash bins back from the curb, and pick up branches and sticks that have fallen out of our maple.
    • He is working to save enough money to buy one of those horridly expensive Lego sets.
    • I have suppressed my urge to make up a tax statement and keep a portion of his wages to support the pets.
    • I think I’ll leave that until he’s 12 or so.
  • Irish Woman is aghast over the fact that our 9 year old is almost as tall as she is, wears the same shoe size as she does, and is giving all of the early signs of a growth spurt.
    • I, on the other hand, am just looking at this as par for the course.  I shot up four to six inches between 2nd and 3rd grades.
  • Girlie Bear was issued a kevlar helmet in ROTC this week.  Apparently they didn’t have any that are big enough for her.  She thanked me for giving her a bucket head.  I called her a long-haired hippie and told her to get a hair cut and make room in the helmet.
    • That’s me,  just a great big cuddly bear of a parent.
  • I’m taking a week off to spend spring break with Boo.  We have the usual fun father and son things planned:
    • Fishing
    • Archery
    • Shooting the BB gun
    •  Walks
    • Yard work
    • Cleaning out the basement
    • Preparing garden beds
    • Washing the dogs
    • Laundry
  • Boo has begun learning how to safely use a pocketknife at Scouts.  He asked for a knife for his birthday.
    • Part of me wants to get him a really nice Case knife or something in that vein so that he will always have something useful to remember his dear old dad.
    • The rest of me is a realist that knows that a young boy is likely to trade, lose, or destroy anything I get him, so he’s probably going to get a chunk of scrap iron that I’ve sharpened against a rock until he grows a bit more responsibility.
    • I have been officially banned from giving him one of my more…. sizable knives.  Something about blade length and not scaring the other children.
  • Last weekend we re-did three of Irish Woman’s strawberry beds.  This entailed removing the weeds and crabgrass, saving the strawberry plants, and adding rocks and soil to replace that which has eroded away in the rains.
    • My main activities added up to purchasing, transporting, and depositing about 800 pounds of topsoil, about 100 pounds of peat moss, and about 500 pounds of large rocks to better shore up the bottom of the beds.
    • Oh, my aching back and pocketbook.
    • I am advised that these will be the best strawberries I’ve ever had, which is good, because at this point it would have been cheaper and easier to fly Irish Woman to Watsonville so that she could pick as many strawberries as she wants.
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