Geoff has a friend sleeping over tonight. He's a nice kid... and we were sitting around talking about options for who sleeps where. I asked Nick "When you sleep at a friend's house, do you like to sleep in your own bed or are you okay sleeping in the same bed with your friend. He said either way was alright with him, it's different at each house. Geoff says "Whatdaya think I am, GAY or something?!"
I almost spit out my water... I was all ready to suggest that they both sleep in the futon here in the study, but I guess that's not gonna happen.
We told Geoff "it's not about GAY or anything, it's about hanging out with your pal and sleeping in the most comfortable, logical place for both of you." Jeesh.
No points to anyone because there were no takers on the title quote from yesterday's entry. Suckers. I expected better of my leftist readership. All two of you. I have placed the full quote and source at the top of this page for those who care. While I don't agree with a lot of Cockburn's politics, much of the poetry and imagery he has written over the past two (plus) decades sticks with me in all sorts of odd moments. And when I'm burning wood and there is a breeze, I hear the opening line of that song in my head.
Anyway -- not much to report here, it's been a busy week filled with work work work and all kinds of mundane details. Nothing interesting on the commute, nothing interesting at home. Nothing interesting in life. The NYC trip was the big interestingness that nothing can hold a candle to in the weeks following. I'm in a big interestingness lull.
Well, not entirely true. Here are the highlights:
I'm writing an article for CASA.org and Adam Gardner from Guster was kind enough to answer questions for me, since he has an a cappella connection with the Tufts University Bubs. He was gracious and wonderful and his answers to my questions make an article in and of themselves but I have other people who I've interviewed who will be in the article too. Still, I just wanted to mention that Adam is very kind and smart and witty and wonderful. Two points for Adam
Monday night is BNL at the Manchester Verizon Arena. Eight tickets, so far I have one free ticket that may or may not be claimed, we have yet to get a straight answer from Jess' friend. I may be turning to boards with a plea for someone to buy it. I hate when people say "yes! I'm in!" and then they don't follow through with commitment.
Speaking of which -- Mathmarie and CMM, I will have your ticket money for your sets of tickets that you got me with me on Monday night. I've got cell numbers, you've got mine, and we're aiming to hook up prior to the show with plenty of time to get the swap off. No worries. And thank you thank you thank you for the ticket upgrade. You rule.
My commute has been the supersized suck for the last couple of weeks. There is paving going on everywhere in between my home space and my office space. A 50 minute commute is taking upwards to an hour and ten minutes some mornings. So I have taken to alternate routes through farm country and woods. Routes which may take longer than sitting in traffic but when one feels oneself moving, one interprets forward progress. And that is good.
Stupid casino night.
While we were at casino night, we had a huge wind storm that blew our satellite dish out of allignment. Stupid wind storm. So today Doug had to climb up onto the roof and adjust it while talking to me on the telephone intercom. It was a good time. Now, our tv gets better reception. Thank you wind storm!
We got two cords of wood delivered last week. Over one and a half of the cords currently live inside our gorgeous kitchen hearth. I'm not too thrilled about that, but at least it is indoors somewhere and we don't have to schelp out into the yard in the wasit-deep snow to get wood later this winter. The wood isn't fantastic. It doesn't want to burn, I don't think it was properly seasoned... even though the advertisement says it was. So being indoors will hopefully make it better. We managed to get a little fire going this morning -- but man alive, it isn't very good. Not like the wood that the previous owner left for us, which we rifled through in a few days because the novelty of having a woodstove just had us squee-ing with delight. Today Doug and I cleaned out the shed and stacked about 1/3 of what was left in the driveway up in the dryness. It has been rained on (stupid rain) because the day the stuff got delivered it started pouring and then just wouldn't stop whenever we were home and able to give the project some time. Hopefully it will dry out nicely.
We shouldn't have burned all that other wood, because it would have made nice starter kindling for this not-as-great wood. Lesson learned.
I have to do laundry.
My stomach hurts.
My dogs won't stop barking. By that I do not mean my feet hurt. Gonzo and Brodie just will not shut up.
Geoff is being willfully disobedient and if I could I'd punt him over the fence.
Monday night's Arizona Cardinals/NY Giants game was unreal. I missed it, but thank Jebus for NFL replay because they took the whole game, condensed it to an hour of great highlights and I watched the hapless cards blow a 20 point lead with only 6 minutes left in the game.
This afternoon I had two cub scout mom's over our house to help sort through all the coats and winter accessories we'd gathered up during the Webelo's Coat Drive. I have an entire room in my house that is filled with used winter wear. I've washed more than half of it -- other parents washed the rest. We are dividing the coats up amongst three different Merrimack Valley Shelters, and they will hopefully be delivered during the week this week.
While the moms were here, we had two boys, a three year old girl, and our neighbor friend over playing in the yard. It was chaos. Good fun chaos. For three straight hours.
Well, I did the laundry after all and now my comforter is in the dryer, hopefully becoming dry sometime tonight. I'd better go check it. My not-gay son and his friend who doesn't really think of anything along those lines are now playing hide & seek. I should show them the attic.
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