March 8, 2011
I got my hairs cut today. I know, big news, right? Surprisingly, that is not my big news. More importantly, our Orlando vacation is 20 days away. Pumped? You betcha.
How my haircut plays into this, is that the young lady who cut my hair shaved my neck, and then shaved the top of my shoulders. If you just shuddered, be appeased that I do not look like a Yeti with my shirt off. Older people grow more hair. More dead cells, I think. I skipped a lot of science classes.
So as I sat there getting my shoulders shaved, it dawned on me that vacation prep should include a good shave of my upper back and shoulders. And then I had to laugh at how one's priorities change as they age and prepare themselves for a vacation that includes a bathing suit.
There are twenty-somethings at my workplace who have prepped for vacation. Their priorities include tanning and working out to lose those 10 pounds they have added around the middle. This prep time takes about 2 weeks as tanning booths can bake you at microwave speed now, and losing 10 pounds when you are 23 just means drinking Diet Coke for a couple weeks and spending 30 minutes on the treadmill 3-4 times per week. Loathe them.
However, when you are forty-something, getting that vacation ready body means not being gross with your shirt off. I would not like to be laying on the beach and have someone push me towards the water as if I were a whale in danger of dying. I would not like to hear a weed-whacker start up behind me. I do not want onlookers to get the impulse to go iron something. (because I'm wrinkly)
Conversely, I also do not care if anyone who sees me with their shirt off tells me they have a pool that needs cleaning. And then they do not have a pool. (Yes, I once had an active fantasy life). So I have 20 days to get his beastly body ready. No before and after shots.
In other news, I bought CJ some new drum sticks yesterday. His old ones have been broken or lost, and playing drums without sticks will not help the Go Gos. (he did not have the beat)
Why this is newsworthy, is that CJ checked to see what name they had on them. He soon discovered that the reason drum sticks from The Target cost $7 for 4 sticks, is that they do not have the name of a famous drummer on them. While he was looking, he wondered to himself, "where are they made". Since he was asking himself, he should not have wondered aloud as it were. That made it possible for me to let him know that the sticks were made in BANGladesh. Groans. If not there, perhaps Turkey. His response, "SILENCE, I KILL YOU!"
What? Pretty punny, I thought.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Don't you like plants?
March 3, 2011
How sad a situation is this. We killed a cactus. The reason we bought the cactus is that we have a tendency to kill any plant that enters our house. A cactus can live through anything, right?
However, as it turns out, if you take said cactus out to the backyard in the fall to get some sunlight, and then forget about it, it does not do cold weather very well. I could have sworn I saw some photos from the Iditarod sled dog race that had a cactus in the background, but perhaps not. Yosemite Sam did not live in Iceland? Dern tootin' he didn't. So I have called the life squad to our back porch to see if they can resuscitate the poor, almost lifeless plant.
It reminds me of a time when we lived in our first house. When we moved in we decided that much of the vegetation growing on the yard was either not especially eye-appealing, or was too hard to control and maintain, so we started removing them. Our intent was to replace most of them with something different, but the little girl next door had not received the yard project agenda. One day, as Beth was removing a small, unnecessary tree in our side yard, the little girl said to her, "don't you like plants?" To get the true affect, you must know that the accent of the little girl was kinda southern, so say it again with me, "don't you like plants?" So now, every time Beth pulls a weed or kills the perennials in the back yard, I get to channel the little girl, "don't you like plants?" Beth loves that, by the way.
So we have now added a dead cactus to our plant killin' resume. It is a true wonder that CJ has lived long and prospered. He is 14 now and damn big. We do not always remember to feed him, but otherwise he has gotten love and care beyond that we have given any other green residents of our house. Not that CJ is green.
Maybe that is it, Beth has always talked about how it ain't easy bein green, so there seems to be some sort of bias within her not so hidden agenda.
What would happen if she ran into Al Green? I don't think they would stay together. Or Alan Greenspan? She may have reservations. Or the Green Bay Packers? She would not be leapin at Lambeau. Or the band Green Day? I don't think she would wake them up on October 1st. Or the superhero The Green Hornet? Kato she is not. The Green Mile might turn into a marathon.
Have I made my point? Are you green with jealousy over Beth's choice of a husband? Don't be (she might kill ya).
How sad a situation is this. We killed a cactus. The reason we bought the cactus is that we have a tendency to kill any plant that enters our house. A cactus can live through anything, right?
However, as it turns out, if you take said cactus out to the backyard in the fall to get some sunlight, and then forget about it, it does not do cold weather very well. I could have sworn I saw some photos from the Iditarod sled dog race that had a cactus in the background, but perhaps not. Yosemite Sam did not live in Iceland? Dern tootin' he didn't. So I have called the life squad to our back porch to see if they can resuscitate the poor, almost lifeless plant.
It reminds me of a time when we lived in our first house. When we moved in we decided that much of the vegetation growing on the yard was either not especially eye-appealing, or was too hard to control and maintain, so we started removing them. Our intent was to replace most of them with something different, but the little girl next door had not received the yard project agenda. One day, as Beth was removing a small, unnecessary tree in our side yard, the little girl said to her, "don't you like plants?" To get the true affect, you must know that the accent of the little girl was kinda southern, so say it again with me, "don't you like plants?" So now, every time Beth pulls a weed or kills the perennials in the back yard, I get to channel the little girl, "don't you like plants?" Beth loves that, by the way.
So we have now added a dead cactus to our plant killin' resume. It is a true wonder that CJ has lived long and prospered. He is 14 now and damn big. We do not always remember to feed him, but otherwise he has gotten love and care beyond that we have given any other green residents of our house. Not that CJ is green.
Maybe that is it, Beth has always talked about how it ain't easy bein green, so there seems to be some sort of bias within her not so hidden agenda.
What would happen if she ran into Al Green? I don't think they would stay together. Or Alan Greenspan? She may have reservations. Or the Green Bay Packers? She would not be leapin at Lambeau. Or the band Green Day? I don't think she would wake them up on October 1st. Or the superhero The Green Hornet? Kato she is not. The Green Mile might turn into a marathon.
Have I made my point? Are you green with jealousy over Beth's choice of a husband? Don't be (she might kill ya).
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