So I got busy yesterday.
Mowed and trimmed the lawn, did a couple delayed projects and generally did what geriatrics do (scatch, itch, burp, fart, grunt, while searching for what ever it was).
A few years back, I cut a huge hole in the back of our house and installed a french door….I love french doors.
I have a mini ceremony morning and evening, opening ‘em up to hear the birds in the garden, and the angels in my head sing.
Also, they accommodate the moving of large items, large items like TVs and baby grands, and couches, and beds….and rather quickly, like when the offspring (spawn) discovers where we live, after discovering they ‘just can’t make it on our own’.
Yeah, quick exit, escape, hide.
Anyhoot, I now have a path from our living area, thru my den, thru the french doors, and onto the deck.
I usually sit out there, stoke the fire pit, sit back, sip, and watch my rhubarb grow, thinking profound things like, ‘I should just bring the coffee pot out here’, or ‘ice chest, eueka!, I’ll get an ice chest for the deck!’ or thoughts of developing a spring loaded gizmo that an oldster can just set their belly (or sagging boobs) on and ease themselves down to do their garden tending…..actually I will develop this…Whamo here I come. Note to self; include boob rack…one for the ladies too.
Where was I (had to toss another piece of wood, carving gone awry, on the pit).
Ah, yesterday….even though I love the french doors, they are not screen friendly. So I zipped over to Home Dopey to get one’a those magic screens. It’s a doorless screen that is somehow magic….the word ‘magic’ adding $19.95 to the ‘but that’s not all’ price.
They don’t have them.
I made my own…abra cadabra….presto…screen with a dowel for weight at the bottom…duh….$3.95
Now we’ll be house fly free this summer.
The fly swatters will now become marsh mellow skewers for when the grandpuppies come over.
Today is father’s day.
The day beings from other planets (that think they are somehow my spawn) target my place, my beloved deck, my back yard, my toilet, my fridge, me, and zoom in to terrorize the daylights outta my kingdom. Grand kids with silly string, and humongous squirt guns that make Papaw do his jump-scream-cuss trick, and pets that s***, and parents with laugh tracks on self activating pull strings, and parents with tape measures, sizing up rooms for their furniture….
Bestowing gifts of wooden objects (they know I like wood) from exotic lands (China) that I’ll feign putting in my curio (and toss them in my Jeep the next day for a thrift shop donation).
And they don’t readily go away. After several hours, saying things like, ‘we really should go’…my eyebrows twitch upward, I try to hide my glee, when my lady sez, ‘oh, but it’s so early’ (the goddamn sun is setting!!)…but I realize that it’s just intermission, and the stroke of midnight is still in the distant future.
So, after several hours, I’ll do my customary thing, cracking the bathroom door open every twenty minutes and whispering, ‘Are they gone yet?’
But this only after taking my dad to Brunch, and watching him smear syrup and butter around his mouth, then commence crying and drooling over how things used to be.
Today is father’s day…..for whom the bell tolls.
This too shall pass
5butjam wrote:I'm out because Gary O can't spell 'sites'.(Jan 15, 2012)
M0rd3kaI wrote:Gary...I sometimes worry about you... (although it's not this time, I just wanted to get that out there)
Rick69 wrote:Holy poop, Gavin... Sometimes you scare me...
axe11154 wrote:you sick old man
Hawamleh wrote:When Gary goes all south, you better not even try to comprehend what he's saying.