• Archives

  • Topics

  • Meta

  • The Boogeyman - Working Vacation
  • Coming Home
  • Quest To the North
  • Via Serica
  • Tales of the Minivandians
  • Join the NRA

    Join the NRA!

Musings

  • Tomorrow morning I go in to have blood drawn for an upcoming physical.  Dinner tonight included a very rare ribeye.
    • If I’m going to get chided about my cholesterol, I’m going to enjoy earning it.
  • Irish Woman and Boo decided to play some cards tonight.
    • It wasn’t that she’s teaching him how to play blackjack that concerned me.  It was that she was teaching him how to count cards.
  • Girlie Bear took the Greyhound back to Louisville this weekend.
    • There was the beginnings of a brawl starting when she got out of the station, so apparently little has changed in the couple of decades since I last took a bus.
    • There’s nothing like the time spent parked at a bus station in downtown Louisville on a Saturday morning to make you think, “You know, maybe I didn’t bring enough guns.”
  • Division of labor at our house:
    • Irish Woman is in charge of summer lawn care, specifically mowing and trimming.  I probably mow the grass two or three times a year.
    • I, on the other hand, am primarily responsible for leaf removal.  Irish Woman does, however, run the mower across the leaves a couple of times every year.
    • This works out that she does quite a bit of mowing over several months, while I do a lot of work over a few weeks.
    • I will point out, however, that it’s rather rare for the lawn to need mowing three times in one day. This weekend, I had to go over the leaves several times in order to not get buried.
    • I would also like to point out that when snow needs shoveling, that’s my job.
  • This morning, I had to run to the big box home center for a couple of things.  There was a young couple in the paint area.  It was quite obvious that the young lady of the pair was picking out paint for a new home. She was looking at about 17,235 shades of pastel something or other, and would squeal every time she found a new hue to consider.  The stack of paint cards clutched in her hand grew by the minute.
    • The young man looked like he would rather be drug behind a honey wagon for about ten miles of gravel road.  He visibly winced at several of the possibilities the young woman was considering.
    • I wanted to up to him, give him a manly hug, and tell him to be strong, because it was never going to end.  Ever.  Even after death, she’ll pick out the color of pillow he’d rest his head upon for eternity.

1 Comment

  1. OldNFO

     /  November 5, 2018

    Ah yes, ‘division’ of labor… And the paint color WILL be wrong, once he gets the entire room painted and trimmed… sigh

%d bloggers like this: