Labor Day Weekend
Well! My lovely wife saw me weeping into my knitting (or into my gardening or something. Probably into a delicious and refreshing intoxicant beverage.) mourning the lack of strawberry-rhubarb themed foods. She is going to bake me a pie or two this weekend, she says. Isn't she the absolute best wife of EVAR? And she smells good, too, at all times, miraculously.
I like pie. Perhaps I'll make a mango-something pie. Mango-banana? It'd probably be a little bit soupy unless I let the mango pieces dehydrate somewhat before putting them in. Ah the possibilities.
I got a haircut today after work. Danielle, my haircutter and body worker did something to my scalp while she was washing my hair. She took almost 10 minutes to do this seemingly routine little task, and she massaged the scalp so deftly and skilfully that she made me aware of a tension headache which was developing on the right side, slightly in front and above the ear, and then she made it vanish. She cured my cancer, whitened my teeth and removed my appendix at the same time. She's got magic hay-unds. Go and see her. Danielle is as close to sainthood as a girl can get without some bossy church barging in and taking over. You'd like her. She is peaceful.
Also in Labor Day Weekend plans:
1. Chanty singing tomorrow
2. Chainsawing the rosemary bush which has gotten out of control. It wants to become a tree. The yard will smell delightful for days after we cut it back. Plus: Chainsaw! Chainsaw chainsaw chainsaw! The one thing that can improve the near perfection of a three-day weekend without actually adding more days to it is a chainsaw.
2.a. Possibly chainsawing the neighbors' tree which is leaning over the fence and dropping squishy little fruits all over the chez. It is forbidden to operate a chainsaw higher than shoulder-level and for very good reason, too, so we may just end up using loppers and hacksaws. How boring and prosaic.
3. Other activities I don't remember. Mrs. Skwashy would like to attend church this Sunday. I may not go. I may stay home and frolic in the compost bin, worshiping in another way.
4. My compost bin is huge and extremely productive (thank you, O Mrs. Skwashy, fairy of compost bin-givers 7 or so years ago. It occasionally frightens me with all the compost it produces).
5. Other delightful things I can't remember, and very likely a great deal of laundry.
More later.
I like pie. Perhaps I'll make a mango-something pie. Mango-banana? It'd probably be a little bit soupy unless I let the mango pieces dehydrate somewhat before putting them in. Ah the possibilities.
I got a haircut today after work. Danielle, my haircutter and body worker did something to my scalp while she was washing my hair. She took almost 10 minutes to do this seemingly routine little task, and she massaged the scalp so deftly and skilfully that she made me aware of a tension headache which was developing on the right side, slightly in front and above the ear, and then she made it vanish. She cured my cancer, whitened my teeth and removed my appendix at the same time. She's got magic hay-unds. Go and see her. Danielle is as close to sainthood as a girl can get without some bossy church barging in and taking over. You'd like her. She is peaceful.
Also in Labor Day Weekend plans:
1. Chanty singing tomorrow
2. Chainsawing the rosemary bush which has gotten out of control. It wants to become a tree. The yard will smell delightful for days after we cut it back. Plus: Chainsaw! Chainsaw chainsaw chainsaw! The one thing that can improve the near perfection of a three-day weekend without actually adding more days to it is a chainsaw.
2.a. Possibly chainsawing the neighbors' tree which is leaning over the fence and dropping squishy little fruits all over the chez. It is forbidden to operate a chainsaw higher than shoulder-level and for very good reason, too, so we may just end up using loppers and hacksaws. How boring and prosaic.
3. Other activities I don't remember. Mrs. Skwashy would like to attend church this Sunday. I may not go. I may stay home and frolic in the compost bin, worshiping in another way.
4. My compost bin is huge and extremely productive (thank you, O Mrs. Skwashy, fairy of compost bin-givers 7 or so years ago. It occasionally frightens me with all the compost it produces).
5. Other delightful things I can't remember, and very likely a great deal of laundry.
More later.