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Musings

Well, it appears we’ve survived the latest round of Snowmageddon. Depending on which weather gnome you listened to, we were slated to get anywhere from 10 to 24 inches of the white stuff.

I’d say we got between 6 and 8 inches, and that’s respectable. It’s enough to close school for a couple of days while the county gets the roads straightened out, but not so much that my grandchildren will have to endure “Do you remember how bad it got when Kentucky got actual winter weather that one time?” news segments in a couple of decades.

It’s been cold enough, long enough that the snow didn’t immediately melt on contact with terra firma, and for once we got proper January snow. Rather than huge sticky flakes we’re used to, it was little dry flakes that were almost a pleasure to shovel. Snow that has the consistency of course sugar is a heck of a lot easier to move than snow reminiscent of half-cured concrete. Can’t make a decent snowball out of it, but you take the good with the bad.

Irish Woman has been a little weirded out by my upbeat mood these past couple of days. After a quarter century as a couple, you’d think she knew that temperatures in the mid-teens and snow on the ground is one of my favorite kinds of weather. And the best part is that it’s not supposed to warm up for at least a week, and we may even get more snow next weekend!


Note to self – The teenage boy seems to have issues with me walking through the kitchen, loudly proclaiming lines from “Blazing Saddles”. He especially took issue when I recited the “My grandmother was dutch” sequence, for some reason.

I’ll have to work on that boy’s cultural enrichment. Luckily for me, he won’t be going to school until Wednesday, which is more than enough time for him to consume and digest some of the finest comedy ever produced by Hollywood.


Watching the news from Minneapolis, and all I can keep thinking of is a line someone once told me – “Don’t go to stupid places to do stupid things, with stupid people.”

Watching the news from Europe, and all I can keep thinking of is “Why didn’t we withdraw from NATO in 1993?”

Watching the news from Tennessee, and all I can keep thinking of is “There but for the grace of God go I.”

Musings

Well, the white death is descending on the middle and southern parts of the country, and for once, I don’t think the weather prognosticators are exaggerating. This one looks like Minot in December 1983 all over again. If you know, you know.

A good chunk of the country is going to, at best, be snowed in for a few days. Some of the scrying foretells a good chunk of the mid-South being encapsulated in an inch of ice for the foreseeable future. For those who haven’t been through something like that before, imagine being immediately transported back to 1913 technology wise, except you likely have neither horse or sleigh and your house is probably neither heated nor insulated in a manner that would make that comfortable.

If the worst happens and you find yourself huddled around a teaberry scented candle for light and heat, all I can suggest is a high calorie diet full of complex carbohydrates and fat, several layers of warm clothing, and extensive cuddling to keep warm.

By now, I hope everyone has their french toast fixings, toilet paper, entertainment, and adult beverages all prepared. The Kroger in our neck of the woods looked busier than the day before Thanksgiving when I drove by, but luckily I got into Walmart between hordes. I happened to get the last loaf of bread they had, and I’m proud of myself for asking the young man who was also going for it if he had kids or a wife at home before challenging him to rock-paper-scissors for the bread. Scissors beats paper, and he had to go home with a dented bag of hawaiian bread rolls.

We’ve brought the outside cat inside, stocked up on a few perishables, filled up all the vehicles, and purchased a couple DVD box sets that were on sale. We’re currently slated to be about 100 miles too far north to get ice, thank the Lord, but that “8 to 14 inches of snow” thing is causing the Kentucky born members of my family to twitch just a tad.

Irish Woman made a swing through the liquor store, and came home with a bottle of pecan liqueur, some Wild Turkey Rare Breed, and a 1.75 liter bottle of Knob Creek 9 year. Didn’t know they put whiskey into bottles almost as big as a 1987 Sun Country cooler, but apparently they do. I picked up a twelve pack of Alani, her favorite flavor of liquid awareness. That was more of a self-defense move on my part. I buy my Community Coffee by the case and always have a month or two stocked up, but she purchases those little cans on a just-in-time basis. There is no way I am getting snowed in with her while she goes through the DT’s after she can’t get a can of caffeinated coolaid for a few days.

The snow should start sometime tomorrow afternoon, and I’m falling back on the old northern way of clearing a foot of snow – shovel every couple of hours. Irish Woman bought herself a little electric broom looking thing that runs on my drill batteries, but I think old fashioned scrape-lift-toss-repeat methods will be more effective if we get the amount they’re predicting. Time will tell, but if you see me walking around next week bent over like a little old man, you’ll know I ‘won’ that argument.

The dogs have mixed feelings about the snow. Maggie, the new dog, loves snow. In December, she discovered that if she can get up to 88 miles an hour on snow, she can slide for about 20 feet. Her coat is so thick it’s been hard to convince her that it’s cold the past few days. It must be entertaining for the neighbors to see me out there in my pajamas and slippers trying to convince her to come inside when it’s 20 degrees out.

Sophie, the dachshund mix, on the other hand thinks that solid water is an abomination unto her ancestors, and frankly refuses to go out the back door if her paws don’t touch lumber. I look forward to carrying her out and finding a spot where the snow isn’t taller than she is so that she can be carried back inside while shivering.

Moonshine and Ellie seem to be neutral on the subject, but I’m pretty sure that Ellie will appreciate the contrast between the white snow and Maggie’s black fur. It’s harder to T-bone your sister at a full gallop when you can’t hide in gloom.

Little Bear, who is now officially two inches taller than me, is fretting about getting back and forth to work this weekend, but seems to be OK with Monday and possibly Tuesday being snow days.

Irish Woman and I had a courageous conversation about her making any plans to keep me busy this weekend. She was making a list of ‘activities’ that all seemed to revolve around manual labor or home improvement. Not sure what she’s going to do to keep herself occupied, but I plan on napping and reading when I’m not shoveling.

I hope everyone comes through this safely and comfortably. I only have one more piece of advice for the gentlemen out there.

Guys, I want you to go and have a glance at your significant other for a moment. Think about how pretty and happy she is at this exact moment.

I want each and every one of you to keep that image in your head over the next few days, and don’t do anything to mess that up. I mean that for the immediate future of being snowed in, and for her comfort and sanity in the summer months. Nobody wants to watch some poor woman waddle around in the July and August heat, uncomfortable and possibly homicidal because you got bored during the blizzard. Be kind and loving, but not loving, if you know what I mean.

I’ll see y’all after the rivers thaw.

Musings

Note to self – When making both root beer and ginger ale syrups at the same time, make note that the rather expensive sassafras does not go in the ginger beer.

Lucky for me, sugar, water, and fresh ginger are cheap, readily available, and easy to mix up for a new batch. I’m also lucky that I had just enough sassafras to finish the root beer.

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I never thought that using the back porch as a cheap extension to the refrigerator during chilly weather would teach me that a labrador puppy could use a one-liter bottle of club soda as both a bouncy ball and a chew toy, but here we are.

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Being slow at the Dairy Queen drive-thru when Sophie the WunderDachsie is waiting for her pup cup can earn you an ass chewing in the finest Bayrisch barking you ever heard.

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When you get up at 5:30 AM to let the youngest dog and the geriatric dog out before anyone loses what control they have, staying up until the ball drops on New Year’s Eve isn’t that much fun.

In other news, I got to bed around ten last night and slept in until 5:35 AM this morning. Happy holidays, I guess.

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Irish Woman postponed our winter get together until mid-January due to scheduling conflicts with a bunch of invitees. While that did cut down on stress over the past week, it does mean that I can look forward to baking all of the Christmas cookies again in a week or so.

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Boo and his friends are going to the movie theater tonight to watch the final episode of some TV show they’ve been watching for the past decade. The concept of paying full-ride for a theater ticket to watch something we’ve already paid for on the TV makes my flinty little heart itch, but it makes both him and his mother happy.

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Irish Woman has announced that she wishes to have a shindig at the house for her birthday next summer. I’m trying to decide between pony rides and bouncy houses or male dancers and jello shots for the entertainment. Suggesting either has gotten me THE LOOK, so I may just go with both options.

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“I don’t need anything for Christmas” and “This big purchase will count as our Christmas gift to one another” around here equates to a purchase of Irish silver jewelry that looks like it came from the Lord of the Rings prop department for her, and a new grain mill and several sacks of wheat and rye for me under the Christmas tree.

Musings

I just have to keep reminding myself that the puppy is cute, fuzzy, and will eventually grow out of it.

In other news, I’m going to be buying a new pair of hightop sneakers come next payday, along with new shoelaces for several other pairs of shoes.

Also, the custom embroidered dog collars I get with the pet’s name and my phone number take two to three weeks to arrive now.

A temporary collar from the pet store and an engraved tag cost as much as the embroidered collar did, but Ellie needs something until the new collar arrives in the mail.

Did I mention that the puppy literally chewed the collar right off of Ellie’s neck? Hey, at least she didn’t chew up and swallow the little carrier attached to the collar. That contains the little tracker thingie, along with the rather large battery it requires. That would have gotten expensive a lot faster, what with the emergency vet visit and the surgery and all that.

When you buy a new collar to replace the collar that the puppy chewed right off her sister’s neck, you will be tempted to buy a container of super-de-duper strong bitters to spray on the new collar and several other things the puppy thinks make good teething rings.

When you buy said anti-chewing spray and are applying it to a few things, you may be tempted to taste it. You know, just to see how bad it is and whether or not you should expect it to work.

Trust me, it works. Do not taste the spray designed to make a dog shrink back in discomfort when she tries to chew on something. Coffee, water, ice cream, and toothpaste still haven’t gotten the taste of what I imagine skunk spray tastes like out of my mouth. I may wash my mouth out with grain alcohol before this is all over.

Yeah, good times, good times. She’s sixish months old, so we’re about halfway out of the worst puppy months.


There are few phrases more happy-making than “Yeah, this is a gnarly job, and it’s gonna take a couple of days, but you’re still covered by the drive-train warrantee.”


Irish Woman’s obsession with not leaving any wall with original paint continues. Tonight, it’s the baseboards and other trim, along with the walls in the hallway that are being slathered in tinctured goose grease. She did a few test areas last night and asked my opinion. Imagine her disappointment when I looked, considered, and announced that they all looked like slightly different shades of green, and whichever she preferred would be acceptable.

She insists that at least one of them is ‘cream’ and not green, but I know green when I see it. I’m currently locked in my office with the dogs while a roller is aggressively run up and down the walls outside. It’s kind of like those horror movies where the good guys can hear the monster right outside the door, and they dare not open it.


Holiday season drawing to a close means sweet potatoes going on sale.

Sweet potatoes going on sale means I can buy a whole bunch of them.

Having a while bunch of them means five quarts of frozen sweet potato puree in the freezer.

Five quarts of frozen sweet potato puree in the freezer means sweet potato pie or casserole or bread or whatever over the next few months.


Everyone who scoffs at asperger people obsessing about trains and the details of Marvel characters versus DC characters has never sat in the back of a track listening to two MI geeks argue about the road wheels on a T-62 versus a T-72, or which aspects of the Polish AK are better than those on a Soviet AK.

An Open Letter

To the city ‘leadership’ of Louisville and surrounding communities –

Dear Sir and/or Madam,

I am writing this to you as a stranger in your strange land. I have lived among you for quite some time, and I have this to say, and I say it with all the love and respect I can muster:

Please, for the love of God, get a grip.

It is December. December is, as we say up north, a winter month.

During the winter, it is not normal for it to rain. Rain in December is never a good thing. Normal weather, during this most chilly part of the year, is for the rain to freeze into what experts call ‘snow’.

Snow, being heavier than air, will fall from the sky. If it’s big snow, it floats down. If small, it comes down quite quickly.

But down it shall come, and that is both normal and a good thing.

How could frozen water coming down and covering the county in a layer of confusing white stuff that cannot be smoked, snorted, or injected for fun and profit be a good thing, I hear you ask.

Well, children, snow, being translucent, masks both the sight and smell of your more… savory bits of real estate here in Indiucky. Think of it as clean frosting spread across the ‘cake’ of Louisville.

If managed properly, it is not a danger, and should bring feelings of whimsy and wonder to children of all ages. You don’t get snow often enough, and what you do get melts off in a few days, for you to get that North Dakota “If one more flake either falls from the sky or asks me if I think it’ll warm up this week, I’m going to lose my everloving mind and end up on the 11 o’clock news” feeling.

You should enjoy these brief, infrequent episodes of real winter weather, not use them an example of the pending apocalypse.

Yes, the expected 3 to 5 inches of snow will snarl traffic. I’ll even agree that making the 4 AM decision to close schools, should the roads be as bad as your feverish imaginations think they will be, is a prudent measure in furtherance of public safety.

But calling school at 8 PM the night before, when the first bits of geometric ice art haven’t even fallen, leads me to make this request.

How are our children to learn what anticipation is when they go to bed knowing that tomorrow they can sleep in? Their futures will be less productive if they do not master the skill of getting up at 5:30 AM to find out whether or not they have to trudge out into the frozen wastes to catch the bus or if they can sit at home, eat sugary cereal, and watch cartoons all day?

Please, get a grip. Do it for the children.

Author’s note – If it’s just barely too cold for it to properly rain, and frozen water falls from the sky as little hard pellets, that’s ice, and I fully support proactive decisions. With the state of your infrastructure, it’s quite likely that power will be out come the morn, bringing about the collapse of your society for at least a few hours. When we’re fending off the hordes drawn to such chaos, we will not have time to listen to the whacky morning radio programs to see if the little darlings need to pack up their schoolbags instead of reloading magazines and preparing field dressings.

Thought for the Day

Brothers and sisters, when you realize that you need a break from being in the house on a chilly December night, it’s a good idea to start up the old go-go machine and tool on down the road a bit. Just you, the road, and whatever audiobook or podcast you choose to indulge in.

It’s an even better idea to treat yourself with a milkshake. Something sweet and rich to pick up your spirits and bring back remedies of better times always helps.

However, should you find yourself in the situation where a few drops of said milkshake go down the wrong tube when you take a sip, just cough it out while you safely bring your vehicle to the side of the road and stop.

Do not fight it, causing your eyes to water. Because when your eyes water, your nose might start to run, just a little. And when your nose starts to run, just a little, you will sneeze.

And if you sneeze with a mouthful of vanilla milkshake when it’s dark and 31 degrees out and you’re going 45 miles an hour down a two-lane country road, it is a stone cold pain to clean off your steering wheel, dashboard, and windshield with four cheap napkins.

Yeah, good times. Good times.

The Absolute State of Entertainment

I’m going to show my age here, but does anyone else remember being excited about entertainment?

I kind of do, but man, it’s been a long time.

Harken back with me to the old days, children. Days when vague rumors from that weird kid (me) who read sci-fi magazines and old comics would see something in an article about a new movie that was in production and have Mrs. Torkelson’s entire 3rd period talking about the next Star Wars movie instead of algebra.

Or when some kid would get dragged to the movie theater by his mother to see the rerelease of a Disney movie and see a poster for the next Star Trek movie. He’d come back to school all abubbling about how great it looked, and it even had that dude from Fantasy Island in it!

There are a lot of other examples, such as two big lines wrapped around theaters, one for the rerelease of Star Wars and the other for Titanic, but I don’t see that kind of enthusiasm. Heck, I don’t think we’ve seen any sort of mass excitement about a movie or TV show in about ten years.

Today, it seems that whoever owns Star Trek has pulled its spindled, mangled, and mutilated corpse out of cold storage, hooked it up to a couple marine batteries, then filmed while it twitched. Seriously, at this point, it should be shot on 8mm, sold out the back of a scuzzy gas station in a bad neighborhood, then watched in a dark basement while smoking. When the watcher dies, the older kids know to get to the house and just burn all that before the grandkids find it.

Star Wars is some poor child that was ripped out of its village, starved in the dark for a few months, then forced to dance for strangers in weird clothes for pennies. Maybe if it’s lucky, it’ll be given some nice nourishing soup for dinner, but mostly it’s fed on old, dessicated slop that was found at the bottom of a freezer and reheated in an underpowered microwave.

Kids movies aren’t safe, either. I just heard there’s going to be a fifth Toy Story movie, we have more Shrek than we can ever handle, and every classic animated film is getting a schlocky, half-baked live action remake. I guess in a world where little Timmy can call up every second of children’s entertainment ever made on the tablet that’s substituting for his parents, the thrill of “They’re putting Snow White back in the theaters this Christmas!” or “Disney’s opening the vaults and putting Peter Pan on DVD!” just doesn’t bring in the dollars anymore.

Instead, in between making commercialized propagandic schlock that bombs, the studios that used to ask themselves “Is this a good story for 7 year olds?” are either ‘reminagining’ classic stories or continuing stories that were complete decades ago.

TV is even worse. The kids who were slightly too young to watch the Simpsons when it premiered are now watching new episodes with their grandkids. South Park is now older than its creators were when they started taking pictures of cut out craft paper to make fart jokes. Family Guy has risen from the dead at least once, allowing its writers and voice actors to phone in whatever ‘irreverent’ thing crosses their minds every week.

Law and Order, in one form or another, is old enough that it can finally retire the minivan and car seats now that the kids are in middle school. The spin-off, SVU, has highlighted so many crimes against children and young women in New York that I’m surprised anyone still has the audacity to procreate in the Big Apple.

The Sopronos and Breaking Bad definitely had their day, and they were definitely well-written and acted pieces of art. Eventually, though, we have to realize that we were rooting for murderers, human traffickers, and drug pushers who brought nothing but misery to everyone they knew and everyone they touched.

In between all these, there are some bright spots.

Yellowstone and its spinoffs, love them or hate them, have brought back the western genre. Now that I think about it, Landman and Tulsa King are westerns, just with a little twist on them to make them a little more relevant to folks who can’t afford thousands of acres of real estate in Montana or Texas. Hey, if you can make being a roughneck or running a cannabis dispensary entertaining and sexy, more power to you.

Game of Thrones, for all its faults, brought at least some interest in high fantasy to the masses again, just with more incest, rape, and torture. Thank goodness Peter Jackson completed his Lord of the Rings trilogy before that came out. I shudder to think of what HBO would have done to poor Frodo if they’d gotten their meathooks on him. Of course, that also brought us the Witcher and Rings of Power series, so maybe that’s not a good example.

The Chosen and most of the offerings from Angel Studios are quite good, but of limited appeal to mass audiences. Yes, they’re interesting and enjoyable, and I wish more folks would check them out, but folks aren’t queuing up to watch them.

Indie films and television, as always, are hit and miss. I guess that’s kind of the point. If you’re making a movie or TV show (what’s the correct term for something that’s never going to be on TV, but would have been 30 years ago?) with a small cast, a smaller budget, but a really good idea, sometimes you get it right and sometimes you don’t. For every “Godzilla Minus One” or The Menu, you get a few hundred “Cube Root of King Kong at a Furry Convention in Des Moines”.

But, if you sift through all the schlock, you find some real gems that are original and entertaining. Of course, once one of them does well enough, the big fish will scoop them up, stripmine them for their premise, and publicly flog them until there’s nothing but a grease spot on the cobblestones. Best to enjoy the first generation from small studios while you can, because the next few generations get awfully tiresome awfully quick.

Long story short, I really can’t remember when something original, in whatever media form you choose, came out that caught on across a broad spectrum of the populace. The closest thing would, I guess, be the original Avatar, but that movie is old enough to drive now. My youngest son probably has no memory of any movie or show that had his entire school atwitter for days after its premiere.

And for some reason, that makes me a little sad.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to break out my DVD’s of Looney Tunes and watch them again before the bits rot out from under the Coyote.

Musings

How to get me to buy something from you – Be recommended by the person I’m buying a gift for in the first place.

How to get me to buy something from you twice – Get my order to me very quickly, have good product, and reasonable prices.

How to make me a lifelong customer – Give me a call after my second order, even through it’s your late afternoon/early evening, advising me that my chosen shipping method might not get my order to me by Christmas, then eat a chunk of the upgraded shipping so that this isn’t a problem.

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How to get me to stop donating to your charity – Send me, in the space of 30 minutes, two voicemails, three phone calls, and two texts, all with the same verbage about why you need money from me.

I like a nice reminder every so often, but using the spam firehose is not conducive to getting me to come across with a credit card.

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Well, my long vacation is probably officially over. I started onboarding at a new job on Monday. So far, so good.

It’s a semi-longterm contract, so I can’t totally take my eyes off finding something permanent. However, if it works out, it’ll be a good fit for quite some time.

Either way, my plans to retire as a reprobate have to be put on hold, at least for now.

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We woke up to find that the 2 to 4 inches of snow we were promised turned out to be 4 to 6 inches.

The puppy thought was just the most awesomest thing ever, and demonstrated this by running laps around the back yard for 30 to 45 minutes at a time throughout the day.

She’s currently laying on my office floor, snoring loudly. I guess she’s just all tuckered out.

The older dogs were not quite that excited. Sophie, Princess of Planet Dachshund, was downright unimpressed.

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Note to self – When shopping for a new desk to go with your new job, take measurements of your office and take the tape measure to the furniture store.

In other news, I’m going to be rearranging my office a bit. The new desk is L shaped, and the L juts out about seven feet. Nice and cozy, but definitely creates choke points in the middle of the room.

Musings

Of all the things that we lost due to the Disease Whose Name We Dare Not Utter, no longer having 24 hour grocery stores has to be the worst.

Yeah, it was convenient when you ran out of turnips while making a midnight snack and wanted to just nip out and grab a couple, but the real loss was the ability to shop while the portion of the populace that never really wakes up was truly asleep.

I could go into the Kroger at 2 AM, get a heaping cart full of necessities and sundries, and only have to interact with the nice lady who noticed someone was waiting to check out. It was glorious. I could do an entire week’s worth of shopping in about 30 minutes, less if I was being really efficient.

As opposed to today, when I went shopping with the living dead. There was one dude who literally walked down the middle of the frozen potatoes and breads aisle, stopping every three half steps to stare first at the freezer on his right for 60 seconds, then to the freezer on his left for another 60 seconds. I politely asked if I could squeeze by him, and he didn’t even ignore me. He looked me in the eye, moved his mouth a bit, then went back to his shuffle-stare-turn-stare-shuffle routine.

This fine reject from a Romero movie was only one of many examples of what I can only call “somnambulant shoppers”.

When I am king, there will be designated hours at the stores for those of us who not only know what we want to get, but also how to get it. Those who can’t handle the sensory input of three different sized bags of shoestring french fries will be relegated to coming in while the rest of us are not present.

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Fun fact – It takes approximately 10 minutes to prebake a pie shell, and while it is toasting a tad, mix up the filling for pumpkin pie.

Another fun fact – Prebaking at 350 degrees, then leaving the pie on the counter for a few minutes while the oven warms up to 425 for its first bake is a good idea. Heck, it’s even a step in the recipe

Fun Fact III – The Fact Strikes Back – Being efficient with your time and turning your back to pull some things from the pantry for the next dish you’re preparing while the oven bakes and the filled pie shell rests on the counter may seem like a good idea.

Grandson of the fun fact – The 5 month old lab puppy is now tall enough to cruise the counter, and she really likes the taste of unbaked pumpkin pie filling.

So anyway, it takes about 10 minutes to whip up another batch of pumpkin pie filling while your spare pie shell prebakes. It may seem to take longer, but that’s because you’re swearing about fuzzy little menaces and telling her that she’s lucky she’s cute.

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The pet store is a racket. Putting $3 dog treats at nose level for a lab puppy right next to the register is dirty pool.

In other news, a lab puppy can lick the frosting off of a $3 dog treat in the ten seconds you take to pull your wallet from your pocket and pay for her new collar.

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Note to self – The glass beer mug you smuggled out of Oktoberfest in 1993 holds just shy of three 12-ounce beers.

Not being a wasteful soul, I finished what was more than ‘just shy’ before settling down with the rest to try to get some things done.

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Irish Woman may think I’m a little crazy for this, but there’s something hypnotic about listening to the time channels on short-wave radio.

tick-tick-tick-tick-tick for 55 seconds, then “At the tone, the time will be…..” followed by tick-tick-tick-tick for 55 seconds.

It’s a mantra for autists, I tell ya.

Now to just tune in those Russian numbers stations while I sleep, and the circle will be complete.

Musings

When you do the rising growl that’s part of the chorus to Bodies and all three dogs in the room wake up, open one eye, and look about, maybe you were overdoing it with your post-dinner sing-along.

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It’s amazing how expressive every action by a dog can be.

The little bowing down with both front paws splayed out in front of her, with her head cocked to the side, signifies that our youngest dog wants to play.

When she walks up and lays her head on my leg, I know she loves and trusts me.

When she looks up at me with those big brown eyes, I know she’s saying “I see you have a toasted cranberry bagel sandwich made with a fried egg, spicy breakfast sausage, and swiss cheese. I also like a toasted cranberry bagel sandwich made with a fried egg, spicy breakfast sausage, and swiss cheese. I also want you to forget that I already had breakfast and some cheese when you were giving my sisters their medicine. You see, father, I am starving, and shall surely perish if not given the remainder of your sandwich.”

Truly, man’s greatest companion.

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Sometimes I buy flowers, other times, jewelry.

This month, my love language is buying a split quarter of a cow and filling the freezer for the winter.

Diamonds may be forever, but hamburger is $4 a pound and rising, and compressed carbon crystals don’t make good tacos.

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In an attempt to warm up a bit and get rid of the scratchiness in my throat, I made up a pot of the ‘Czar Nicholas II” Russian tea I got a few weeks ago.

Chort vosmi, but that’s terrible.

Imagine, if you will, an overpowered Earl Grey, but instead of bergomot, they used Chanel #5.

Yeah, not going to be drinking that anymore. It will, however, make for a pretty good potpourri.

Back to coffee I go.

Little bit of backstory – my introduction to ‘Russian Tea’ was when my mother would buy one container each of full-sugar Tang orange powder, Country Time Lemonade, and NesTea powdered ice tea mix, combine them all together, and mix two to three heaping tablespoons of the resulting concoction with a mug of hot tap water.

Yeah, I didn’t have much sophistication in my palate until my early to mid 20’s.

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How did your morning go, Tom?

Well, while trying to shuffle the dogs around for breakfast and outside time, the elder hound decided that the youngest dog was just a little too close for comfort.

No actual violence, but a big dog roaring, not barking, roaring and snapping, followed by the puppy running away crying loudly at 6:15 AM is not how I wanted Friday to start.

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Winter has officially arrived at our house. Irish Woman has begun her yearly ritual of randomly changing things in the house due to a case of November cabin fever. Today, it was new handles on the kitchen cabinets and drawers, along with testing two new colors for the kitchen walls. Apparently my choices will be “Seattle Seahawks Teal” and “Crest Toothpaste”.

She casually mentioned that the easiest way to update our kitchen was to replace all the cabinet doors and fronts of the drawers.

I shudder at where this might all go.

Hey, at least she’s not peeling up vinyl flooring and opining about how much nicer tiles hand made by Slovenian women drinking Moldovan champagne while dancing the chacha would look.

I really can’t wait until she’s truly cooped up in the house due to crappy weather and little sunlight. I may start encouraging vitamin D supplements now and avoid the Christmas rush.