There was a Minister whose wife was expecting a baby. The Minister went to the congregation and asked for a raise. After much consideration and discussion, they passed a rule that when the Minister’s family expanded, so would his pay check.
After five or six children, this started to get expensive. The congregation decided to hold a meeting again to discuss the Minister’s pay situation. You can imagine there was much yelling and bickering. Finally, the Minister got up and spoke to the crowd, “Having children is an act of God!”
In the back of the room, a little old man with a full beard stood up, and in his frail voice said… “Snow and Rain are also ‘acts of God’, but when we get too much, we wear rubbers!”
Yesterday turned out to be a decent day. I took my morning constitutional and read a bit after blogging. I helped the wife clean the house. It rained in the early afternoon. Our friends couldn't make it to play cards though.
We had a little BBQ for dinner and watched a fairly crappy not too funny comedy on Netflix. Ho hum, how the middle class spends a Saturday is boring.
Today? IDK. It is supposed to rain most of the day. Of course they said that about yesterday too. I'll probably read a little. Perhaps I'll pop an old Esther Williams DVD into the blueray if I can't find a suitable old movie on tv. There is an automobile race in the area. I won't go and since it is blacked out, I won't watch it either. I will probably catch part of the Cubbies though.
Ho hum, ho hum. My life is as boring as this blog.
With a Woot and Hooray a long weekend is finally here! It's gonna rain though. The media pointed out we have had rain or snow every single weekend for 14 straight weeks. Yes, that is why my backyard still needs a ton of work. Limbs and leaves still line the fence, weeds are springing up in the flower beds. The patio furniture is dirty and the granddaughter's playhouse is full of leaves and spider webs. The skies are darkening as I hunt and peck one-fingered on my iPad I keyboard. Yes, my backyard is as neglected as this blog.
Sorry 'bout that.
Sinatra is crooning in the background. The coffee is hot. Life is good.
We have no big plans for the weekend. Some friends might come over this evening for a little Euchre and dinner. There will be laughs and the easy relaxation of people who have been friends for more than 40 years.
The weather has been a little chilly for the season but I have hot water. Those cold showers explained why our great grandparents only bathed occasionally. I relived my old camping days as I heated water to wash dishes Sunday.
It is supposed to get warm starting tomorrow, but rain will settle in for the next five or six days. It looks like a damp holiday weekend
In other news, I don’t have any. This blog is holding on with bare life support
I find David Crosby's live version of his tune Triad from the CSN album Four Way Street to be haunting. I rediscovered the Jefferson Airplane version the other day:
While I have never been a devoted fan of the Airplane or Starship, I concede that Grace Slick can sing. She has pipes, baby. Take a listen to White Rabbit if you are too young to remember the psychedelic age. Look it up yourself, a little research is good for the soul.
Without sounding like the "Get off my lawn" old curmudgeon I'm becoming, I maintain they don't make rock music like this any more. They don't make rock music any more. What is left of "old" rock and roll moved to country and is sleeping on the couch, eating Cheetos, smoking dope, and occasionally making an appearance on a track or two of guitar-heavy chart toppers.
Meanwhile old codgers like me cling to the pathetic classic rock stations playing the same 50 songs from 40 or 50 years ago. Really, Elton John sang more than Rocket Man and there are more rock artists than Queen and Aerosmith.
Last night a BMW SUV pulled up next to me blasting bass-heavy rap music.
I got up this morning and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready for work. I grabbed a clean towel from the closet and turned on the sink faucet to shave. The water was cold as usual. It takes a minute or so for the hot water to reach upstairs. The water never got warm, in fact, it got colder.
I trotted downstairs and out to the garage. I could hear water dripping before I even turned on the light. Yep. The water heater was out. I turned off the water pipe leading to the heater. Crap and double crap.
I called off work then started pricing water heaters.
First, I don't understand the reluctance of a plumber to offer a general estimate. I get things might change once they get to the house, but a price estimate range is not unreasonable. I told three plumbers that if they cannot give me a rough estimate I would work with a plumber who would.
In other news, I am alive, I have a wife who loves me and wonderful grand kids and kids. I am blessed. I do have plenty to be thankful for. A cold shower might be good for me.
I have a few minutes before I head off to the office. A chilly morning will blossom later into a nice spring day. It will be enticingly on display out the floor to ceiling wall of windows just feet from my desk. Even warmer weather, and rain, are expected in the days to come.
I cut the lawn after work last evening. That, coupled with the fact that everything is in bloom outside, means allergies are kicking my butt this morning. The lilac bushes are starting to bloom. The smaller one by the gate is already in full flower. The whiff of lilacs slams you before you even open the gate. The two giant ones by the patio will be in flower by the weekend.
I guess Trump will have to pull an Obama and ship a few hundred million bucks or the Iranians will start misbehaving again. Somehow I don't think this President will play that old game. Somehow I also don't think he will be like Obama and apologize to the Mullahs if they attack one of our ships.
It is a chilly Monday here at the homestead. We went to my daughter's for a Mothers Day cookout. They provided the burgers, I made potato and pasta salads, deviled eggs, and a homemade peanut butter pie.
It rained all weekend. You can almost see the grass and weeds growing. The spring ants are doing their best to move into the dry house. I am fighting them off, streams of bug spray are mowing them down by the patio doors like fire from that GoT dragon.
Speaking of GoT, I'm not sure how blasts of flame makes stone walls explode, but it was cool. I'm not sure how the Packers will survive without Mr Rogers, though.