I think I measure the year in town days.
A year has 52 Thursdays, if you’re wondering.
Cowboy must still not be feeling well after that long shift he pulled.
He's just dragging, and he decided to skip buying the chicken feed today.
Maybe we can stop on the way home on Saturday, but we'll be on the wrong side of town.
Cowboy came home, fed his chickens, ate his dinner, and fell asleep.
I got distracted, his alarm didn't sound, and he overslept.
He got to work with two minutes to spare, and they write you up if you're late, now.
Too many write-ups, and there are disciplinary measures.
Badger and I headed outside after he left.
We didn't get back inside until after 7 pm.
She asked me when she became the handyman.
I had no answer to that.
Maybe after she proved she’d inherited at least some of her daddy’s fixing skills.
She finished painting Big Foot, who is now a Swamp Creature.
She has the fish he carries looking very nearly realistic.
Then she got him back up in the yard.
She replaced the peeling house numbers with new ones.
The numbers themselves are now reflective, or at least that's what the package claimed.
They are very shiny, very yellow, we'll say that much.
Then she tackled the mailbox.
She free-handed the numbers-paint, of course.
She's very unhappy with the effort, she's like her dad, and wants perfection.
All I care about is that it now says our house number, and street name.
A little imperfection isn't going to kill anyone.
Then we went inside.
She headed straight for the shower.
She was covered in paint and blood, hopefully her own.
The whole time she was outside, she kept swatting mosquitoes.
They were just eating her up out there.
After she got out of the shower, we grabbed a light supper.
It was too hot for anything heavy.
Then we watched a documentary.
Hearing how soldiers talk about a dead comrade, I understand more now why Raven dropped out of basic training.
After the movie ended, Badger headed to bed.
Heron had just gotten home.
He was late tonight.
I stayed up with him.
He’s getting ready to fly to Colorado at the end of the month.
It will be his first time on a plane, and he’s getting very anxious about it.
He’s headed back to his RV now.
I can head to bed myself.
We actually have plans for the weekend.
Tomorrow, Peacock’s wife is bringing Turtle up for us to dog-sit.
Then on Saturday we’re heading to Forbidden Caverns.
I call it a cave; Cowboy insists on using its proper name.
Cave or cavern-it’s the same to me: underground.
I’m still debating whether I’ll go with Cowboy and Badger or stay in the car reading.
I’m highly claustrophobic and hate bats.
They have a colony of them.
Sunday will be our rest day.
That’s our plans, but as they say, the best-laid plans of mice and men.
Now I’m heading to bed-I’ll probably have to kick out two dogs to get a spot.
I was a teenager a common place for the stoners to hang out were the enormous caves on the bluffs of the Mississippi in St. Paul. I will admit to being there a few times. I'd never, ever do that now!
ReplyDeleteI acquired many of my father's fixit skills, some by learning and some, I think by genetics. I'm glad I did.I do like the swamp creature.
A first plane flight, exciting! Although not the airports, unfortunately. I've had a bat in the house twice. It's quite the project to cat it and get it outside. Forgetting to shut the damper on a fireplace.
Enjoy your weekend. Stay out of the cave.
Sandra: It sounds like you had some memorable adventures! Those caves on the bluffs must have been quite the hideaway for teenage mischief.
DeleteIt’s wonderful that you picked up so many of your father’s fix-it skills—they really come in handy. I wish I’d picked up a few of my grandmother’s fix-it skills!
Thank you—Swampy does look much better now.
My son's first plane trip will definitely be something to remember; he’s just so anxious about it. I’m guessing airports can be a real pain in the neck, right?
Dealing with bats in the house sounds like quite a job—I don’t think I could have handled that!
I’ll stay happy as a clam in the car and well away from that cave, 😄
Hope you have a great weekend!
I was a child of the 60s, Jane. Crazy times.
DeleteSandra: The Age of Aquarius—flower children and Woodstock. What an amazing world to live in.
DeleteI’m from the late ’70s/early ’80s: Aqua Net and big hair, Pac-Man and roller rinks, rewinding cassette tapes with a pencil, and taping songs off the boom box—neon leg warmers and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.
We grew up in the last truly innocent times.
But next year you’ll have 53 Thursdays because the year begins on a Thursday.
ReplyDeleteI just learned this from — where else? — the internet:
Most years have 365 days, but a leap year has 366 days. That adds up to 52 weeks (where each week is exactly 7 days) PLUS 1 or 2 additional days. The year 2020 has exactly 366 days.
Now if the year starts on a Thursday in a non-leap year, you end up with 53 Thursdays. Or if either of the first two days lands on a Thursday during a leap year, then you can also get 53 Thursdays. Check the calendars below for January and December of 2020 to see exactly where the year starts and ends.
That’s such a fun bit of trivia. I looked it up and sure enough, 2026 begins on a Thursday—even without a leap year we get 53 Thursdays. I never knew that.
DeleteSounds good to me—one more chance for a Dutch Bros run! ☕
I just accidentally submitted a comment from anonymous. It was from me! Not Anonymous.
ReplyDeleteHi Pam! If I'm not careful, I hit “Anonymous” all the time—Blogger’s comment form really isn’t user-friendly. I hold my breath every time I go to approve a message, convinced I’m going to hit the trash can by accident and delete something important. It’s good to see you again!
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