Snapping back Wash after Wash:
Thought for the Day:
Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. Miriam Beard
On Fly-fishing and getting Spit on:
Friday:
My weekend started on fairly normal. I returned home from my travels far and wide on Friday, took a restful nap and awoke with the decision that
A) I didn’t feel like cooking
B) I didn’t feel like going out
So I did nether, both of which decisions my kind and loving wife Mrs. John Q. Public supported. While she may be on a very strict dieting regimen she never the less agreed to order a cheese pizza (it is after all Lent, and really, how much fried fish can one man be expected to eat esp. when it is served in parochial school cafeterias, with beer or soda, and a 50/50 drawing).
We then watched a few movies, none of which were note worthy and retired by 11:00. See, dear reader, we can act like grown-ups at times. On a side note, I baked bread.
Saturday:
I woke at 4 and went running with my new leg brace, I got in about 2 miles before the damn thing rubbed me raw in a few very sensitive areas. Returned to the manor house and showered in preparation for a morning of teaching the willing minds of my fellow man (and woman). The class went well, and we finished the material early so I let them go. (Hell, I get paid by the class not the hour).
When I got back to our ever so humble home I found my intrepid and task oriented wife had in my absence decided to:
A) Rotate her tires
B) Change her oil, using an inflatable child’s pool as a catch.
C) Change all of her filters.
Needless to say, after laughing to the point of tears, I hurried into the home and changed my clothes. Now I have some strong feeling about vehicle maintenance. I feel that if I do it, I am putting some poor struggling guy out of work, the bread winner for his family, think of all those guys (and their families) who work at Grease Monkey who would be on the welfare roles if we all started to doing our own oil changes.
I feel it’s my duty in post 9-11 America to support our economy, "w" said so, so my unwillingness to get down under one of our trucks is actually a patriotic statement.
I first noticed a problem; in that when she started this process she had just returned from picking up all the necessary supplies. She had the entire truck on two car-stands, one Coleman camp stove and a part of a 2 by 4, and my “Handy-Man” jack. I should at this point note this is on a 30 degree incline. You see my wife has taken multi-tasking to a whole new level, she doesn’t start one task she starts them all, at the same time and to varying degrees of success.
All four tires were off and lying around the yard and a rather large oil slick was rolling from under the truck. You see the child’s inflatable pool, was not rated to withstand, say the heat from recently run engine, while resting against a manifold, after dropping the oil plug, a hole formed and yes, dear reader the pool went flat. All and all a very funny moment if it wasn’t my truck, my wife and my drive way.
It took about two hours to clean up the mess and put things back in order, after sending her inside to get cleaned up. I had just finished when she came out and said, "...hurry and get changed, I have to go get my hair cut." Now I don’t know about you, but I quit needing someone to go with me to get my hair cut when I was about 12 years old, so I thought it odd.
She informed me that we were going to a co-worker of hers house and his wife was going to cut her hair, I said OK, but still why do I need to come, she said because I want you to, dear reader sometimes it is best to follow the path of least resistance. I showered and changed once again; set-out some Porterhouse stakes (planning a butter, mushroom and onion gravy, fresh bread and asparagus, for supper) and off I went.
Now I enjoy this co-worker of hers, he is a fun guy, very much the gentleman out-doors-man, he greeted us in the garage of his estate, where he had been actively working on the electrical system of one of his Land-Rovers, and he called my arrival a welcome distraction and plied me with Single Malt Scotch for fortification.
My wife went inside to get her hair cut and I started thinking to myself this might turn out to be a great afternoon, we then started smoking some Cohibas. Oh, how the Worm turned for me, dear reader….
Our conversation turned to a mutual love, the sport of fly fishing. After spending an hour or two looking a flies, we went into his yard and practiced casting with some on the most expensive fly-rods I have ever seen, let alone been allowed to cast with.
Ok, I am a guy; it was fucking cool as hell.
After that and a bit more Scotch, we then went into his gun room and got into a long discussion about trap shooting. However, here is where I made one of the classic mistakes; I was not providing adult supervision toward the shy and easily lead astray, Mrs. JQP.
It seems that there is a custom in some hair cutting circles to drink alcohol while getting ones hair cut, now while I am not opposed to the concept, it has never happened to me over at “Ned’s Cut-and-Shave” (home of the $5.00 cut and if he is in a good mood he will tell you about getting shot in the ass in Korea).
It seems the ladies had in our absence drank three bottles of wine and were well on their way through a fourth. I know, your asking about her hair cut, it looked fine, no problems there, however the noticeable issues were that my kind and loving wife, had developed the trait of pronouncing every thing and everyone as “sweet”. Yes, she was in love with the S-sound.
Well, since our host had a school function to attend with their 6 children, we took our leave and motored toward home.
It was while making this trip that the excitement craving and adventurous Mrs. JQP, suggested we go to one of the adult-dancing establishments over by the interstate, which I being the dutiful husband agreed to.
Upon our arrival we were greeted like long lost family, it seems the girls all know and love Mrs. JQP and the manager is an acquaintance of mine from days that are best left un-discussed. My little flower then proceeded to drink, and drink she did. Yes, dear friends, mamma got both her drink and party on.
It is at this point that I fast forward a from 4 in the afternoon to 2:00 am, where you will find both myself and my wife leaving the “Rugby-Bar” after an evening of drinking the likes of which I have never seen from her (being the Dbl D, I felt it best not to match her drink for drink).
When we returned home she started "giggling" and attempting to box me, with taunting lines like “sssComeon, sssfffucker, I will kickss yur’ assss”. I suggested she might want to watch her foot work, at which point she fell flat on her ass, on our recently well oiled drive way, she then got inside and into the shower all under her own power and what a power it was, as I was soon to find out. Now, the shower was both a good idea and a bad one…she was dirty but I should of watched her a bit more closely, you see she decided to was high time to start remodeling the downstairs bath…more on that later.
After getting my little flower out of the tub, she went to the refrigerator and starting looking for something to eat, I at that point heard the warning sign, her "giggle", I turned to look at her hoping my cat like reflexes would once again save me from injury or harm, it was however not to be.
My flexible and combative wife hit me in the head with a frozen Kielbasa sausage, not once but a minimum of four times. Knocking me to the ground, all while "giggling" that scary giggle.... that only she gets. While lying on the floor tasting my own blood, she spit on me, and said those now famous words: “You went down early Bitch, didn’t you”. Still "giggling" she then left me to give chase to the hounds who were watching this event from what they thought was a safe distance.
After about 10 minutes I was able to both stop my bleeding and disarm her of her frozen sausage, which she then demanded I cook for her. Which I did, allowing her to fall fast asleep (falling asleep in this example, is a code-word for passing out). I put a pillow under her head laid her on her side and covering her in all those hand towels and throws that we are never allowed to use (because they are for “good”) and left her sleeping in the hallway,
....oh, sleep well and have the dreams of angels.
Sunday:
I awoke to a bed shared with the hounds, who at some point thought the pack would offer the best protection. I checked to see if the restful and drooling Mrs. JQP was still breathing (she was). I went downstairs and cooked breakfast for the dogs and I. Which oddly included Kielbasa sausage and poached eggs, the hounds found it wonderful. I then left to visit my friends at Lowe’s to buy a new shower doors. I spent the morning installing said doors.
My little flower awoke at 2:00 pm, saying she had one of the worst headaches of her life and what strange dreams she had. Yes, dear flower, loving wife, it was a strange night for you. But, hey make-up sex kicks ass, esp. if you were not mad in the first place (I wasn’t).
We then went to the late Mass, I came home and cooked the steaks I had been wanting on Sat. and we read in front of the fire, turning in around 9 pm. All, in all, a good weekend, extreme, but good.
Vacation Countdown:
15 days and a wake up. Back down where the beaches, food, and friends are.
And on a side note, mamma leaves for Nashville in the morning to hang with the stars of country music.
Your Poem for the Day:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken US poet (1874 - 1963)
(Granted not the whole poem but the part everyone knows)
Quote of the Day:
I happen to feel that the degree of a person's intelligence is directly reflected by the number of conflicting attitudes she can bring to bear on the same topic.
Lisa Alther, Kinflicks, 1975
A ray of sunshine, I remain:
JQP esq.
Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living. Miriam Beard
On Fly-fishing and getting Spit on:
Friday:
My weekend started on fairly normal. I returned home from my travels far and wide on Friday, took a restful nap and awoke with the decision that
A) I didn’t feel like cooking
B) I didn’t feel like going out
So I did nether, both of which decisions my kind and loving wife Mrs. John Q. Public supported. While she may be on a very strict dieting regimen she never the less agreed to order a cheese pizza (it is after all Lent, and really, how much fried fish can one man be expected to eat esp. when it is served in parochial school cafeterias, with beer or soda, and a 50/50 drawing).
We then watched a few movies, none of which were note worthy and retired by 11:00. See, dear reader, we can act like grown-ups at times. On a side note, I baked bread.
Saturday:
I woke at 4 and went running with my new leg brace, I got in about 2 miles before the damn thing rubbed me raw in a few very sensitive areas. Returned to the manor house and showered in preparation for a morning of teaching the willing minds of my fellow man (and woman). The class went well, and we finished the material early so I let them go. (Hell, I get paid by the class not the hour).
When I got back to our ever so humble home I found my intrepid and task oriented wife had in my absence decided to:
A) Rotate her tires
B) Change her oil, using an inflatable child’s pool as a catch.
C) Change all of her filters.
Needless to say, after laughing to the point of tears, I hurried into the home and changed my clothes. Now I have some strong feeling about vehicle maintenance. I feel that if I do it, I am putting some poor struggling guy out of work, the bread winner for his family, think of all those guys (and their families) who work at Grease Monkey who would be on the welfare roles if we all started to doing our own oil changes.
I feel it’s my duty in post 9-11 America to support our economy, "w" said so, so my unwillingness to get down under one of our trucks is actually a patriotic statement.
I first noticed a problem; in that when she started this process she had just returned from picking up all the necessary supplies. She had the entire truck on two car-stands, one Coleman camp stove and a part of a 2 by 4, and my “Handy-Man” jack. I should at this point note this is on a 30 degree incline. You see my wife has taken multi-tasking to a whole new level, she doesn’t start one task she starts them all, at the same time and to varying degrees of success.
All four tires were off and lying around the yard and a rather large oil slick was rolling from under the truck. You see the child’s inflatable pool, was not rated to withstand, say the heat from recently run engine, while resting against a manifold, after dropping the oil plug, a hole formed and yes, dear reader the pool went flat. All and all a very funny moment if it wasn’t my truck, my wife and my drive way.
It took about two hours to clean up the mess and put things back in order, after sending her inside to get cleaned up. I had just finished when she came out and said, "...hurry and get changed, I have to go get my hair cut." Now I don’t know about you, but I quit needing someone to go with me to get my hair cut when I was about 12 years old, so I thought it odd.
She informed me that we were going to a co-worker of hers house and his wife was going to cut her hair, I said OK, but still why do I need to come, she said because I want you to, dear reader sometimes it is best to follow the path of least resistance. I showered and changed once again; set-out some Porterhouse stakes (planning a butter, mushroom and onion gravy, fresh bread and asparagus, for supper) and off I went.
Now I enjoy this co-worker of hers, he is a fun guy, very much the gentleman out-doors-man, he greeted us in the garage of his estate, where he had been actively working on the electrical system of one of his Land-Rovers, and he called my arrival a welcome distraction and plied me with Single Malt Scotch for fortification.
My wife went inside to get her hair cut and I started thinking to myself this might turn out to be a great afternoon, we then started smoking some Cohibas. Oh, how the Worm turned for me, dear reader….
Our conversation turned to a mutual love, the sport of fly fishing. After spending an hour or two looking a flies, we went into his yard and practiced casting with some on the most expensive fly-rods I have ever seen, let alone been allowed to cast with.
Ok, I am a guy; it was fucking cool as hell.
After that and a bit more Scotch, we then went into his gun room and got into a long discussion about trap shooting. However, here is where I made one of the classic mistakes; I was not providing adult supervision toward the shy and easily lead astray, Mrs. JQP.
It seems that there is a custom in some hair cutting circles to drink alcohol while getting ones hair cut, now while I am not opposed to the concept, it has never happened to me over at “Ned’s Cut-and-Shave” (home of the $5.00 cut and if he is in a good mood he will tell you about getting shot in the ass in Korea).
It seems the ladies had in our absence drank three bottles of wine and were well on their way through a fourth. I know, your asking about her hair cut, it looked fine, no problems there, however the noticeable issues were that my kind and loving wife, had developed the trait of pronouncing every thing and everyone as “sweet”. Yes, she was in love with the S-sound.
Well, since our host had a school function to attend with their 6 children, we took our leave and motored toward home.
It was while making this trip that the excitement craving and adventurous Mrs. JQP, suggested we go to one of the adult-dancing establishments over by the interstate, which I being the dutiful husband agreed to.
Upon our arrival we were greeted like long lost family, it seems the girls all know and love Mrs. JQP and the manager is an acquaintance of mine from days that are best left un-discussed. My little flower then proceeded to drink, and drink she did. Yes, dear friends, mamma got both her drink and party on.
It is at this point that I fast forward a from 4 in the afternoon to 2:00 am, where you will find both myself and my wife leaving the “Rugby-Bar” after an evening of drinking the likes of which I have never seen from her (being the Dbl D, I felt it best not to match her drink for drink).
When we returned home she started "giggling" and attempting to box me, with taunting lines like “sssComeon, sssfffucker, I will kickss yur’ assss”. I suggested she might want to watch her foot work, at which point she fell flat on her ass, on our recently well oiled drive way, she then got inside and into the shower all under her own power and what a power it was, as I was soon to find out. Now, the shower was both a good idea and a bad one…she was dirty but I should of watched her a bit more closely, you see she decided to was high time to start remodeling the downstairs bath…more on that later.
After getting my little flower out of the tub, she went to the refrigerator and starting looking for something to eat, I at that point heard the warning sign, her "giggle", I turned to look at her hoping my cat like reflexes would once again save me from injury or harm, it was however not to be.
My flexible and combative wife hit me in the head with a frozen Kielbasa sausage, not once but a minimum of four times. Knocking me to the ground, all while "giggling" that scary giggle.... that only she gets. While lying on the floor tasting my own blood, she spit on me, and said those now famous words: “You went down early Bitch, didn’t you”. Still "giggling" she then left me to give chase to the hounds who were watching this event from what they thought was a safe distance.
After about 10 minutes I was able to both stop my bleeding and disarm her of her frozen sausage, which she then demanded I cook for her. Which I did, allowing her to fall fast asleep (falling asleep in this example, is a code-word for passing out). I put a pillow under her head laid her on her side and covering her in all those hand towels and throws that we are never allowed to use (because they are for “good”) and left her sleeping in the hallway,
....oh, sleep well and have the dreams of angels.
Sunday:
I awoke to a bed shared with the hounds, who at some point thought the pack would offer the best protection. I checked to see if the restful and drooling Mrs. JQP was still breathing (she was). I went downstairs and cooked breakfast for the dogs and I. Which oddly included Kielbasa sausage and poached eggs, the hounds found it wonderful. I then left to visit my friends at Lowe’s to buy a new shower doors. I spent the morning installing said doors.
My little flower awoke at 2:00 pm, saying she had one of the worst headaches of her life and what strange dreams she had. Yes, dear flower, loving wife, it was a strange night for you. But, hey make-up sex kicks ass, esp. if you were not mad in the first place (I wasn’t).
We then went to the late Mass, I came home and cooked the steaks I had been wanting on Sat. and we read in front of the fire, turning in around 9 pm. All, in all, a good weekend, extreme, but good.
Vacation Countdown:
15 days and a wake up. Back down where the beaches, food, and friends are.
And on a side note, mamma leaves for Nashville in the morning to hang with the stars of country music.
Your Poem for the Day:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken US poet (1874 - 1963)
(Granted not the whole poem but the part everyone knows)
Quote of the Day:
I happen to feel that the degree of a person's intelligence is directly reflected by the number of conflicting attitudes she can bring to bear on the same topic.
Lisa Alther, Kinflicks, 1975
A ray of sunshine, I remain:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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