Dear Diary.......

Well, here we are in late March and the weather is balmy when it is supposed to be blustery.  We missed out on winter.  Not even one snow or ice storm.  Mother Nature is just as unpredictable as any other woman, I guess.  Ha.

How is it that I continue to work out, lift weights, do my cardio and still manage to GAIN weight?  Must be old age.  My grandmother used to say "old age is a terrible thing".  She only lived to be a hundred years old, so I suppose she knew a thing or three about it.  I dunno---is it possible to be fat and in shape at the same time?

I see where more guns were sold in the last three months in this country than in all of last year.  A high percentage of the new gun purchasers are women.  I think I'll be more careful when I talk to the fairer sex from now on.  Ya never know, ya know?

Grandson Canyon is spending the day with us and I never saw so much energy in my life.  My gosh I'm glad my child rearing days are long since over.  I love my grandson but dogs are a lot easier.

I still haven't met one set of next door neighbors.  Wouldn't know 'em if I saw 'em at the grocery store.

While we're talking about neighbors, we've certainly got an eclectic grouping around here.  There are a couple of retired couples on our street---one couple spends their time gossiping about everyone else.  The other couple spends their time talking about all their possessions---their sun room, their boat, their new cars.  Gawd.

The next-door neighbors on the other side of us are so nice.  Their kids have MANNERS---totally unheard of in this day and age.  Same thing is true of the family across the street from us.  It's a joy to be around unassuming, accomplished and humble folks.

As I type this out, Canyon is going full speed ahead in the kitchen, yelling non-stop---sounds like jibberish to me---running all over the place.  He has driven Cindy into a state of exhaustion.  Ha.

I was embarrassed over the past three weeks...the unseasonably warm weather caused the lawns in this area to sprout like they are on steroids.  Especially the weeds.  Yikes!  I was the talk of the neighborhood, I am sure.  I called Tru-Green to come out and DO SOMETHING, but they haven't been able to apply any chemicals yet because it has been raining every day.  I will say, however, that we have some of the finest specimens of dandelions ever seen.  I may donate a few to the Knoxville Botannical Society.

I should do a post sometime on our bird feeder out back.  I keep it stocked with a blend of wild bird seed, and it has become the favorite watering hole in these parts.  It's great to sit there, not six feet away, from inside our den, and observe the shenanigans as the feathered creatures feed.

We got every kind of sparrow, dove, cowbird, blackbird, red-winged blackbird, grackle, downy and hairy woodpeckers, bluejay, oriole, wren, bluebird, cardinal, robins (the robins won't get on the feeder but instead feed on the ground underneath it), and so on and on.....  I love watchin' 'em.

Woman says we're having chicken casserole tonight.  Man, can she cook.  Her casseroles are just great.  And I saw her makin' some corn bread to go with it.  Oh, Lordy.

Selah....

FIRE!!!!.......

Get the picture:

I made myself a shrimp po-boy sandwich for dinner in the kitchen as Cindy busied herself by putting together her own dinner---a salad with shrimp and some garlic bread.  As yours truly finished the construction of said sandwich (which was delicious, I might add), I moved to my comfortable leather chair for a gander at the evening news as I prepared to make love to my shrimp-tomato-mayo-lettuce-green onion and rye bread masterpiece.

Ahhhhh.....sitting down, I draped a bib over my chest and slowly took a small bite, testing the flavor.....perfect!  Next, a swig of cold green tea washed the mouthful down into my innards and I was in heaven.

AHHHHH!!!!   FIRE!!!!  My eyes shot kitchenward and I saw a burst of flames erupt from the toaster where the Cinderoo was preparing her garlic bread.  I started to spring from my chair to address the problem, but the flames immediately died down as she closed the toaster door. 

She immediately unplugged the toaster.  I figured there had been some sort of a malfunction of its heating element, because the toaster was about ten years old and had been used extensively over the time we had owned it.

Just as I settled back down for another bite, thinking the crisis was over, flames again erupted from the implement.  Well, I thought, Cindy can handle it...she was standing right there.  But, there was a problem...my wife had gone into panic mode and did not seem able to think.  This time, the flames had no intention of dying down, as they were obviously feeding off the bread Cindy had put into the toaster.

So, as I watched this drama unfold before me, I had to make a decision.  Now, please realize that I was in the middle of eating a really delicious shrimp po-boy and the last thing I wanted to do was get up from my comfy perch in my favorite chair.  The flames were growing, now licking the bottom of the cabinets above the toaster.  It was not a pretty sight.

For those of you not in the know, it only takes a few seconds for a hot fire under cabinets to quickly involve the entire house in flames.

So, again I had to make a lightning-fast decision:  Do I ruin my delicious meal and get up to put the fire out, or do I use this as a "teaching moment" for my wife, who was wringing her hands in a stupor as the house was beginning to burn down.

I chose the latter course of action.

"USE THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!"  I shouted. 

NOTE:  the fire extinguisher was 18 inches from the toaster on the countertop where we always keep it. 

Now shaken from her immobility, the Lady of the House grabbed the extinguisher and quickly doused the flames.

This Is How Close The Toaster Is To The Fire Extinguisher...

By now, a thick white smoke filled the house and every fire alarm we own was screaming bloody murder.

The fire now extinguished, woman began opening doors and windows to clear the smoke.  Meanwhile I continued to make love to my po-boy.  Man, that was a good sandwich!

Woman was not so fortunate with her own dinner, however.  It seems she ruined her garlic bread, shrimp and salad when she turned the fire extinguisher loose on aforementioned fire.  She ended up eating some cereal for dinner. 

It was a little later that I found out that wife thought I had behaved very badly in the crisis.  She actually thought I didn't care if the house burned down as long as I got to eat my delicious po-boy uninterrupted.  Well maybe there is a little truth to that  (just kiddin')........

I tried to explain to the dear lady that I do care about preserving our happy home, but that I also thought she needed to learn how to respond to a fire.  After all, maybe the next time I wouldn't be present to take care of things, and this was a perfect time to help her learn how to use a fire extinguisher. 

It took a few hours for her to begin to agree that maybe it was indeed a good idea that she responded to the crisis by herself because she DID learn what to do if it ever happened again.

Some time was required to clean up the mess from the extinguisher.  We are now in the market for a new toaster.  We replaced the fire extinguisher yesterday.

We Are Now In The Market For A New Toaster

I think she still loves me.

Seriously---if you do not have a fire extinguisher in your home, please get one.  When you need it, YOU NEED IT.  A good one costs about $20.  There is no excuse.

Marriage.......

I drank my coffee and read the paper this morning; and then, as   usual, I felt a gnawing in my gut that signaled the onset of hunger pangs. 

Without even thinking, I arose and ventured to the fridge.  Peering inside, I spied a container of homemade tuna salad---there was just enough remaining to be used in the construction of a sandwich.  Perfect, I thought to myself.

I found the mayo in the back of the fridge, hiding from me as it always does.  Now, all I needed was two decent slabs of bread, and breakfast would be complete.

But......where the heck was the bread?  It wasn't in the pantry.  It could not be found on the countertops. 

Then, it hit me---throughout our marriage, the bread has been a point of contention. 

Woman believes (she got this from her momma) that bread should be stored in the freezer.  That's right---every time you want some bread, you gotta go to the freezer, find the loaf that is, of course, unusable because it is a frozen solid mass, remove it, pry two pieces of bread from the mass, being careful to not break any of it in its brittle state, place the two slabs in the microwave for 20 seconds (or in the toaster for two minutes), and then return the bread to either the freezer or the pantry.  NOTE:  if you decide to put the bread in the pantry, you will find that the bread will thaw and become soggy.

Now, to me---a simple man with a simple outlook---bread should not be kept in the freezer unless it will not be used for a long period of time.  But I use bread all the time---sandwiches are a quick and easy way to satisfy one's hunger. 

But, my wife has this deeply ingrained neurotic insistence on placing the bread in the freezer.  This, I have determined, has its roots in her upbringing, where her momma practiced this odd behavior.  I checked with Cindy's sister, Patti, and found that she, too, has a freezer fetish for her bread.  Apparently, this condition has no remedy.  After all these years of marriage, I have been unable to change her behavior in this regard.

So, I guess you can say that I am now "trained".  I made my sandwich and then put the bread back in the freezer.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.....

The Wife,The Husband, and the Bookcases.......



A Busy Wife is a Happy Wife!

Since we moved into our new digs in May, we have had a dozen large boxes of treasured books piled up in our den.  The reason?  We had no bookcases in our new home, and no place to put the books.  Frankly, it looked like a family of hoarders had moved in.

Down 'N Dirty....

The solution, of course, was to acquire a couple of bookcases.  That was not as easy as it might sound.  First of all, there just aren't that many for sale.  I tried Craigslist and the newspaper, but those avenues proved unproductive.  We thought about buying new bookcases from a furniture store, but the prices they charge are unbelievable.

Darn!---What's Takin' Ya So Long?

Finally, Cindy discovered two bookcases from Target on-line.  They looked pretty good.  Looked to be the right size to do the job, and the price was right---$100 each, and free shipping.  She ordered them.

Trust Me---She's Not Smilin'....

Three days later, they arrived.  One very big problem---they had to be put together. 

Man, This Iced Tea is Great!

Now, this wouldn't be such a problem if Clint were not challenged in the areas of working and playing well with others.  Clint has tried on many occasions to work on construction projects with Cindy, but Cindy has pronounced Clint to be hopelessly impatient and inept.  Thus, she has banned him from such household work projects.  She prefers to work alone while Clint is banned from the work area.  Actually, this arrangement seems to work pretty well for all involved.  She stays happy, and I get to stay married.

So, for several hours while I watched TV and sipped fresh iced tea, Cindy sat on the floor of our master bedroom and constructed the bookcases, which she says were terribly complicated to put together and which created a terrible mood which led to her yelling naughty words from time to time.  There were a few I was unfamiliar with---and I am an army vet and ex-athlete.  Glad I was not a part of her efforts.

Did I feel guilt as I relaxed and she sweated and cursed?  No, can't say as I did.  Ha.

The Finished Product.  She Couldn't Have Done it WITH Me.......

By and by, God smiled on her efforts, and after many fits and starts, she completed the project.  Then, it was my turn to load the books into the shelves.  Presto!---Husband and wife slay another dragon!

Hamburgers and Life......sigh

I'm a simple kind o' guy, you know what I'm sayin'?  Easy to please, don't ask for much, happy to be here.  But, occasionally something important comes around and I gotta say somethin' even if I know I'll regret it.

Hamburgers, for instance.  I think most guys would agree that a  good hamburger is something to speak out about.   I have seen some serious fist fights over the quality of a burger.  And rightly so, too, because when God gave us the hamburger He expected us to protect His gift by always assuring that it is made correctly.

Now, you take this morning, for example.  Yours truly left the house early so I could work out at the spa before the rush.  I come home hungry and tired.  Woman says she will make me a hamburger.  I should insert here that woman can definitely cook and anything she prepares will taste very good.

But consider this, dear friends in Bloggerland:  a burger that cannot be eaten by holding it in your hands is less than what God intended. 

Yes, Cindy brings me a hamburger that is lovely to look at and enticing in its aroma.  But, the minute my hands lift it from the plate, with my salivary glands working full throttle, and my anticipation of the wonderful flavors of smoky meat, crisp bun, mustard, tomato and onion pushing me to heights of gastronomical giddiness, the light pressure of my fingers against the bun causes the overstacked creation to spurt apart, the onion going one way, the tomato and lettuce the other, mayo and mustard being deposited on my new workout shirt, my fingers now slimy with the vast deposits of wetness from the innards of the object of my affections.  In short, I am not a happy camper. 

Yes, my friends, my wife has repeatedly commited this unpardonable sin---overstacking the burger so that it must be eaten with knife and fork instead of two hands.

Of course, I felt it important to mention this faux pas to her.  I thought she would appreciate my input.  After all, I'm only trying to help her elevate her culinary skills.  I cannot repeat here what her response to me was, but suffice to say it appears I shall be doing my own cooking for a while.

It's My Dad's Fault....

Cindy was repainting the front door of our home when she asked me to bring her a piece of cardboard to use as a straightedge to help her in her painting of the corners. I was quite proud of my ability to engineer a solution: I got an old cereal box out of the trash. Using scisoors, I cut one side of the box off and presented it to her. Voila! Another satisfied customer!---NOT!!!

It seems I didn't cut the edges straight enough and my solution actually caused her paint lines to be wobbly. So she had to get down off the ladder she was on and come inside the house and find herself a straight piece of cardboard.

This incident got us both to thinking about what a KLUTZ I am when it comes to accomplishing almost anything around the house.

I am not allowed inside the house---or outside, for that matter---with paint, paintbrush, tools of any kind (the one thing I am good with is a hammer. If something needs fixin', and it can be done with a hammer, I'm your guy), etc.

My banishment from trying to fix things in the house was initiated a number of years ago when I was painting the interior of our home. I was dipping my paintbrush into the full can of paint and then applying it to the walls. The gallon can of paint was sitting on the carpeted floor. My wife told me I should put the paint I was going to use into a smaller container and remove the big gallon can from the carpet---she was afraid I was going to spill paint on the carpeting. I brushed her off. Well, you guessed it---I accidentally tripped on the paint can and flooded the carpet with Sherwin Williams' best latex. I was then told in no uncertain terms that I would not be painting any more in my lifetime.

Of course, I am equally inept at using screwdrivers, plyers, saws, etc..... After literally hundreds of disastrous attempts at repairing stuff in the home and car, I have been forbidden from even thinking about it. I guess my crowning ineptitudes in my home-wrecking career have been in the plumbing and electrical repair fields. I flooded a bathroom and two bedrooms a few years back when I couldn't find the cut-off valve. Someone later suggested that maybe I should've looked for that BEFORE I started to work. Hmmm. And, of course, there was the time I blew out the circuit box when I shorted some wiring. That can be non habit forming.

I blame all of this on my dad. He couldn't fix anything, either. Guess you could say it's a genetic thing.

Adventures with Cindy

I thought Cindy was somewhere in the garage; but, since I could not hear her making noise, I arose from my desk to check on her. Indeed, she was in the garage, looking for the large sponge she uses for big cleaning jobs---like the walls and such. "I've looked and looked," she complained, "and I can't find that sponge anywhere. I know it didn't just get up and leave. It HAS to be here somewhere."

So, of course I pitched in to help her locate the lost cleaning implement. We looked in the storage room, under the sink, in the laundry room. No sponge. Finally, I gave up and went back to my desk. An hour later, exhausted, she announced that she had found the object of her search.

"Where was it?", I asked. "It had fallen behind the washing machine". "Oh", I thought. "Why didn't I look there?"

An hour later I went looking for Cindy again. I found her back in the garage. She appeared to be looking for something. This time it was a new can of paint she had bought three days ago. "I know I had it when I left the store", she said, disgustedly. "It HAS TO BE HERE SOMEWHERE!"

Of course, I helped her look for it. I looked under the seats in the cars, in the cabinets in the storage room, on the shelves in the laundry room, in the pantry, in the cabinets in the living room. I looked in all these places not once, but twice. No can of paint.

Desperate, and on the verge of giving up, I looked a third time in the laundry room. And there it was---where it was supposed to be all along. How could we have looked there over and over and not have found it?

I started to tease her. "You must be losing your mind---it was right where it was supposed to be."

It was then she reminded me of the time I couldn't find my eyeglasses. I swear I looked for them for thirty minutes. Where do you think I found them? On my face.

The FRIDGE...

I just don't know what it is about refridgerators. I mean, they come from the manufacturer all nice and clean and shiny, and within 3 weeks I turn it into a giant, cold, botannical greenhouse; growing all kinds of stuff not yet discovered by scientists. Fridges require cleaning on a regular basis. Aye, there's the rub...I DON'T WANNA CLEAN IT!

Cleaning requires my time and patience. I've got plenty of the former but damn little of the latter.

So, day after day, week after week, the ole ice box accumulates stuff---like that brown thingy growing on the celery I bought two months ago. It doesn't spoil that quickly, does it? And what the devil is that white mold stuff on the three week old grapes? Oh my God---it's also on the side of the fridge! Guess I'll HAVE to clean it now...hey wait---maybe I can hire someone to do it? Hmmm.

And the other thing about fridges is the fact that they acquire additional bottles, cartons, cans, etc every day without my knowledge. I swear I didn't buy half the stuff stuck in there. There is something very sinister going on. Could it be a neighbor is playing a joke on me---sneaking in my house every day to plant stuff in there? The inside doors have so much stuff stuck in there you can't find anything.

I took pics of the doors and then took everything out of the doors to illustrate just how much crap is in there. Why are there four bottles of soy sauce? Who the hell bought three bottles of teryaki sauce? How did two jars of marmalade get in there? Does this stuff reproduce itself? Does anyone have any answers? Please? HELP!!!