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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Spring Quick Hits and the Art of Saying No

I've always taken pride in being sort of a cross-discipline kind of dude, but this is getting silly.  

For us, usually one area is nuts, and then it calms down in time for something else to blow sky-high.  Not this year, man.  So much has been going on with us, in fact, that there's absolutely no way to fill You People in on all of it.  Maybe we can shoot for a rough 'n tough 20%.  15%?

Winning Bread
I've hit my very busiest time of year at work, and yet somehow let myself be Shanghaied into going to a pointy-headed work conference, to boot.  Lessons learned:
  • Running-wise, Atlanta, Georgia has brutal hills, and actual seasons.  'Bout froze my tookus off.
  • Never go running in a hilly place without a ready supply of chocolate milk.
  • I felt sorry for my poor, poor fellow panelists.  I mean, I would HATE to be stuck on a panel with me.  Because I'm nuts.  To loosely quote Groucho Marx, "I don't want to be part of a club that would have me as a member."
  • I should look into saying "No."
The Good, the Bad, and the Bloody
Some neighbors have been pestering me to replace our back fence for a few years.  The fence is ancient and crumbling, and when holes and chinks in it appear, as they frequently do when little boys take the balsawood pickets right off, bits of bricks, sticks, pottery, plastic, old lumber, and yard implements appear almost immediately to plug up the offending space.  I'm not sure if they're keeping the crazy in, or keeping it out.  Hmm.

These are the neighbors that don't like me much.  So this is the best part - they don't like me because they don't realize that a different family moved in about 3 years back.  Right.  Apparently the previous folks really Butch Waxed people's fur the wrong way.

Oh, and the very bestest part of the conversation with the neighbor lady?  "I remember the day that fence was built...  but you were only a little boy, then."  The call ended shortly after that.

So before the heat got here, my awesome neighbor (different one) and I decided to work on the fence in question while Majesty and the chilluns were over in Alabama for a week.  Anyway, you can barely see the finished product in the photo below.  Lessons learned:
  • While my skull is harder than a stubborn 4x4 pressure-treated post, my scalp is not.
  • You should always have large amounts of gauze and Betadine at your house.
  • Office jocks should stay well away from manual labor.
  • You can be sore in places you didn't know you had... for an entire week.
  • I should tell people "No."  Especially people that think I'm somebody else altogether.
Sixth String and Loving It
And there's the Bible class I somehow got hornswoggled into teaching.  It's really fun, and I learn just oodles of stuff, but...  Lessons Learned:
  • Apparently there's a desperately critical shortage of Bible class teachers at church.
  • It's nearly impossible to say "No" at church.
Spring Hurts
Spring here usually shows itself quickly, with azaleas, redbuds, and an incredible amount of greenish yellow pine pollen coating every possible exterior surface.  The pollen is everywhere, and causes hilariously awful and yucky uh... boogers.  There, I said it.

I was greeted by Spring in another, completely unexpected way yesterday.  It was dark upstairs, and I was just about to open up The Curl's door to rescue her from a nap.

At first, I thought I stepped on a nail, but then I saw something black slowly crawling away on the carpet.  "Pleasedon'tbeablackwidow!" was all I could muster.  Nope, it's a WASP.  It's like a philosophy question:  How does one step on a flying insect?  I have no idea.  But it hurts, man.  It couldn't have even zapped me on the caloused part.  That little turkey (may he rest in pieces) got me in the soft little sissy space between my toes.  I haven't unsuccessfully tangled with a wasp, bee, or scorpion in probably 25 years.  But I step on one on my own darn carpet in my own darn house.  Lessons learned:
  • In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny (Groucho, too), "Of course, you know this means war."  Every wasp on my property better be flying a tiny Swiss flag by Saturday.
That's Like, Totally Tubular
After fighting chronic ear infections and our nasty, pollen-filled, barely-can-still-call-it-air air, The Ittybitty is getting tubes.  Like I even know what that means.  I'm imagining those old vacuum tubes in the back of big teevees.  At this point, if it gets this chick well and sleeping through the night, I'm fine with implanting the whole television.

Hi, I'm Functionally Literate, How Are You?
Jack's uh, buzzing through his reading lessons these days (see photo).  I heard him read an entire little story about some dude hunting a deer.  The man gets into this extended conversation with the deer he's hunting but I didn't catch much of the gist.

Jack finished up the story and said simply, "The deer talks!"  Knowing how complicated language is, and how tricky English itself can be, it's truly astounding to watch him blow through words and sentences.  I now have zero doubt he'll love books more as he ages and will keep them in his life.  Lessons learned:
  • Since we can't spell stuff around him anymore, I've resorted to teaching Majestad some Español.
Quote of the Week
Jack, examining my forehead with a toy powerdrill:  "And that's your four head..."
Jack, moving the drill to the top of my head:  "And this is your five head..."

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