Tag: blogger

That’s a cocktail waitress in a Dolly Parton wig

Posted on by Shawshank

Podrick is running around like an idiot this morning. He wants the birds, and he wants them now.

It doesn’t look like he ravaged the Flat in the night. The blankets on the pirate chest were thrown off in the night, so I had to fix those this morning. It’s strange, nothing else was really knocked around. It’s my mind playing tricks on me. I apparently hear things and attribute them to Podrick, which of course causes my anxiety to spike.

But other than the items I picked up before we fell asleep, the bookcase wasn’t touched. I’m impressed.

Work last night, in the grand scheme of things wasn’t that bad. I was just drained. And it showed. This afternoon will be a lot better. I feel more rested (I think), than this time yesterday. The kids switched shifts for today, so no Bing Bing tonight, I’ll have GenAlpha. I haven’t worked with him for a while, so that’ll be fun. I might have to find a radio station to annoy him tonight. The kids seem to really like iHeart2000s.

So let’s greet the day, and kick it in the pants!

Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please

Posted on by Shawshank

Once again, Podrick was nice and quiet this morning. He let me sleep until 7:30 again. Of course when I walked out to the kitchen and the living room.

He knows how to open drawers

So after I closed a drawer, and cabinet, and picked up all the crap that he knocked off the bookcase, I turned on the coffee pot, and then went to the bathroom. Once the lights were on, and the curtains open, I made their breakfast. Pippin prefers to eat silently, and by herself in the bedroom. Podrick on the other hand, prefers to be in everyone’s business while he tries to eat.

With both kittens full of their respective breakfasts, Podrick is pondering his life while looking out the window. Pippin is very happy on my lap watching Podrick ponder his life, and actually still. For the moment.

It’s been a pretty good morning here in The Flat.

So we’ll leave it right here – a moment of happiness. Happy Friyay my friends!

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

Posted on by Shawshank

Good morning. I slept like the dead. I’m still a little groggy. It was a deep sleep, I think. I put my head down, got comfortable, and then I don’t think I moved until I rolled over. I slid out of bed, and felt my way to the bathroom. Once back into bed, that’s when I looked at tue clock; 6:56.

I knew my bed time was limited at that point.

And of course, the kitties are being somewhat good, and the fact that I have to get up and be a company man today, I would tried to stay in bed just a little longer. But here we are, on the couch.

Welcome to Monday Thursday? I dunno. Days off during the week sometimes can be weird. I’m sure that eventually I’ll figure out what day it is. But when you work the weekend, doesn’t really matter what day it is?

Again, we did fuck all yesterday. We just were sloth, and just watched TV, and surfed the net while watching Yellowstone. After some pork chops, with pasta and Alfredo, we watched a couple of episodes of Outlander.

It’s been a great couple of days off, capped with two days in a row of some pretty cool Northern Lights. It was pretty awesome.

Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levi’s and each night begins a new day

Posted on by Shawshank

Podrick, while being good, and letting me sleep, was an asshole as well. Crystal got out of bed to see what the hell he was doing, and he was eating the dried pasta that was to be for dinner last night. We changed our mind, and had something different. We were gonna have it tonight. I’ll stop at the tiny grocery store today, and pick up another bag.

He’s a terror when we first get up.

I’m pretty sure he’s unhinged, without supervision.

I went over to Shady Acres to finish the assembly of the cleaned stove. It too about an hour or so to get it all put back together. I wouldn’t be me, unless I made a mess, and lost a piece. I was just so clumsy in a window of about 5 minutes. I got everything cleaned up, and with the help of my dad, we got it turned on, and we watched the pellets fall into the trough.

Finally, the spark. It fired up, and we watched to make sure everything was working properly. I was worried, I had done 90% of the work. I’m not mechanically inclined. But the stove kept doing what it was designed to do. I got out to the truck, and sent Crystal a text message.

I came home, and we had some lunch, and we didn’t do anything for the balance of the day. And that’s ok, because it’s cold out, and we are warm blooded people. We did have a laugh at the iguanas falling out of trees in Florida. They actually have “iguana watch”, and warn people of falling lizards.

Let’s see what today brings.

A couple of pretty flowers is what I brought to you

Posted on by Shawshank

Good morning my southern friends. It’s me, Shawshank. You know, north of the wall. How’s the weather down there? It looks pretty calm right now. But later? Who knows!

Podrick was nice enough to let me sleep until about 7:20ish. That seems to be about the time he wants us up nowadays. That pretty much works for me. Would it be nice to sleep until 8? Yes ma’am it would. But I’ll take what I can get. And if the means 7:20, I’m totes ok with that.

I’m on a couple of days off. Today( I’ll be heading to Shady Acres to finish up the pellet stove. I just have to put a pipe thing back on and an upside down lid thing, and with my skill, should be ready to introduce fire to the stove. Shouldn’t take more than maybe an hour? We’ll see how quick my dad will be moving this morning.

I still have to finish Raw from last night.

It’s also Remembrance Day here. So I’ll talk to my grampa a little later.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

 Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

 In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

 In Flanders fields.