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Today’s Earworm

Pictures for the Day

As a Subaru owner, I am contractually, morally, and legally obligated to cover at least some of my vehicle in bumper stickers.

Enter the Monster Hunter International swag shop

Then, Irish Woman went neighboring and bought home a couple dozen duck eggs. If you’ve never had scrambled duck eggs or a good omelet made with them, treat yourself.

Notice the quarter for size comparison. That poor duck….

And finally, we have a bit of dogginess, in the form of Sophie May, the Faux Dachshund.

Today’s Earworm

Thought for the Day

Today’s Earworm

Thought for the Day

Today’s Earworm

Today’s Earworm

Musings

  • I disarmed another marital booby trap today by buying jewelry for Mother’s Day, not the reasonably priced sneakers Irish Woman asked for.
    • I don’t have much to live for, but I have more than that.
    • And yes, she’s getting the sneakers too.
  • To Irish Woman, it’s a graduation, complete with religious ceremonies, luncheons, and a graduation party.
    • To me, it’s “Good job this year, kiddo. Next year, high school, and in four years, you graduate. Now go mow something.”
  • My professional life would be a lot easier if I got problem descriptions that were better than the equivalent of “My car’s making a funny noise.”
  • My wife, genius that she is, figured out that if she made a tent over the top of the cool-weather crops out of a fine, white gauze, they would grow better and grow longer.
    • It actually works. We’re still getting lettuce, kale, and peas.
    • She also figured out that she shouldn’t let the fine mesh of the tent stretch out into the tall grass, especially when she’s in a hurry to get the lawn mowed before dark.
    • I described the resulting fine, white mesh wrapped around the blades and drive shafts of the mower as “My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Lawnmower Man”
  • Driving a U-Haul truck through traffic in a construction zone really does wonders for the value you place in humanity. By the time I had moved a bedrooom’s worth of oak furniture from one storage facility to another, I was ready to embrace our new alien overlords, intent on the immolation of me and everyone else on this dirt ball.

Musings

  • Alternate title – Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the horse race?
  • Maybe it was the crowds, the $15 booze served in commemorative plastic cups, the $30 for a slice of microwaved pizza and a large soda, the crowds, the clouds of cigar smoke, the crowds, the echo of every alcohol-fueled assbag in five counties screaming at the top of his lungs for 8 hours under a half-mile long metal awning, the crowds, the too-damned-perky-for-human-consumption TV news reporter who just loved my Hawaiian shirt and didn’t understand why I didn’t want to be on TV, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crowds. Either way, I’ve about done with anything Derby for a few decades.
  • One thing I can say about Louisville – it’s the only place I’ve ever been that made me yearn for the simple pleasure of being in Killeen, Fayetteville, Tegucigalpa, and other garden spots across the globe.
  • In other news, our day at Churchill Downs was fun for the whole family. That is, if by ‘family’ you mean ‘Everyone who can overlay the insanity of Churchill Downs two days before the Kentucky Derby with memories of being taken there as a child and indulged shamelessly while being taught about parimutuel betting and handicapping horses by your uncle the priest.’ If that’s not your definition, then yeah, it was less than stellar for at least 1/3 of our little clan.
  • One bright spot for the day was spending time with a couple Irish Woman has known for most of her life and I’ve always considered good folks. We even got to have a nice conversations before entering the racetrack and after we walked out. Yes, we shared a box with them, and no, talking coherently was out of the question for the most part.
  • Boo seemed to enjoy himself. He’s still young enough to enjoy the simple pleasures in life, like how pretty a thoroughbred is, the dance music played at a category 2 on the Richter scale, and the strawberry-banana kabobs drizzled with white and dark chocolate that went for what used to be the cost of taking a nice young lady out for dinner and a movie.
  • I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – In any large gathering of the general public in Kentucky, you will see a lot of mutton dressed up as lamb, and a lot of lamb dressed up as a streetwalker.