This is going to be one long week.
Friday is the in-house potluck "goodbye" for Hubby and John. Oops, wait. I'm not supposed to mention either one of those in this blog.
Okay, let's try it this way.
If I were married for almost 50 years and if my husband were retiring the end of this week, Friday would be the goodbye potluck for him and the son I also can't mention, despite the fact he is moving to Texas next month. If he did exist . . . and he doesn't because I can't mention him here, he would be two years older than our-son-the-author (see adhudler.com), who welcomes free publicity.
Why did I ever start this?
Just to vent a bit.
I'll tell you how it went.
For me.
Because I can't say how it went for you-know-who and you-know-who . . . or He Who Shall Not Be Named Times Two.
Gawd, now I sound like a Harry Potter novel.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Isn't that just the way it goes . . .
Hubby and I went for our Sunday afternoon drive and came upon a group of pheasant hunters, togged out in bright day-glo orange vests, guns held at the ready.
They were walking abreast, in a straight line but spread out, so as to flush any birds up that might be hiding ahead. Two dogs were prancing out front of the group and a four-wheeler with two people on it was keeping up with the pace of the men alongside the field's edge.
"Wow, looks like quite an operation," I said, grinning to Hubby as we drove past.
We were headed north of town to see where we had heard operations for the coming wind farms were beginning to set up shop.
After we'd seen what we wanted, we started back the way we had come but I slowed and pulled over before we got to the area the men were so diligently scouring for birds.
"I don't think I want to go past them again," I said. "What if a bird flushes out from cover and someone ends up shooting our car? Stranger things have happened."
So we turned right to make our way back to town by another route. After we had driven west for no more than a quarter of a mile, we saw five gorgeous pheasant cocks just to our left at the road's edge.
And we burst out laughing.
They were walking abreast, in a straight line but spread out, so as to flush any birds up that might be hiding ahead. Two dogs were prancing out front of the group and a four-wheeler with two people on it was keeping up with the pace of the men alongside the field's edge.
"Wow, looks like quite an operation," I said, grinning to Hubby as we drove past.
We were headed north of town to see where we had heard operations for the coming wind farms were beginning to set up shop.
After we'd seen what we wanted, we started back the way we had come but I slowed and pulled over before we got to the area the men were so diligently scouring for birds.
"I don't think I want to go past them again," I said. "What if a bird flushes out from cover and someone ends up shooting our car? Stranger things have happened."
So we turned right to make our way back to town by another route. After we had driven west for no more than a quarter of a mile, we saw five gorgeous pheasant cocks just to our left at the road's edge.
And we burst out laughing.
Isn't that just the way it goes . . .
Hubby and I went for our Sunday afternoon drive and came upon a group of pheasant hunters, togged out in bright day-glo orange vests, guns held at the ready.
They were walking in a straight line, but spread out, so as to flush any birds up that might be hiding ahead. Two dogs were prancing out front of the group and a four-wheeler with two people on it was keeping up with the pace of the men alongside the field's edge.
"Wow, looks like quite an operation," I said to Hubby as we drove past.
We were headed north of town to see where we had heard operations for the coming wind farms were beginning to set up shop.
After we'd seen what we wanted, we started back the way we had come but I slowed and pulled over before we got to the area the men were so diligently scouring for birds.
"I don't think I want to go past them again," I said.
"Why?"
"What if a bird flushes out from cover and someone ends up shooting our car? Stranger things have happened."
So we turned right to make our way back to town by another route. After we had driven west for no more than a quarter of a mile, we saw five gorgeous cock pheasants just to our left at the road's edge.
And we burst out laughing.
They were walking in a straight line, but spread out, so as to flush any birds up that might be hiding ahead. Two dogs were prancing out front of the group and a four-wheeler with two people on it was keeping up with the pace of the men alongside the field's edge.
"Wow, looks like quite an operation," I said to Hubby as we drove past.
We were headed north of town to see where we had heard operations for the coming wind farms were beginning to set up shop.
After we'd seen what we wanted, we started back the way we had come but I slowed and pulled over before we got to the area the men were so diligently scouring for birds.
"I don't think I want to go past them again," I said.
"Why?"
"What if a bird flushes out from cover and someone ends up shooting our car? Stranger things have happened."
So we turned right to make our way back to town by another route. After we had driven west for no more than a quarter of a mile, we saw five gorgeous cock pheasants just to our left at the road's edge.
And we burst out laughing.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Or is it the airlines' new tactic for keeping folks in their seats . . .
This from a Denver pal who vacationed over the holidays in a chilly Florida climate:
"I flew out of Panama City today, on a plane that had come from Atlanta and was returning there. It had been 18 degrees. When we got in the air, the flight attendant said, 'Now that we are at cruising altitude you may use the restroom. But the cold in Atlanta froze the toilet and it doesn't flush. You are welcome to use the toilet and we can try to get it down.'
"It??????"
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