Two years ago Sunday, I walked down the hill in Grandview Park on Mount Washington, accompanied by some pretty significant misgivings, for my first yoga class. In spite of my nerves, that morning was close to perfect: sunny and warm, but not at all uncomfortable. Two years later — on Sunday morning — I walked down same… Read More yogaversary.
Christmas lights sit in the attic for 11 months of the year, completely undisturbed. So how is it that half of the strands I need to light our house managed to not be working when I pulled them out today?
If you and I have: Had a beer Watched a game Attended a tailgate party Cooked for each other Gone to a yoga class Gone out for dinner Raved about music Played Cards Against Humanity Compared tattoos Met for lunch Spent the weekend at each other’s homes Seen a concert Caught up at a reunion… Read More 23. i’m talking to you.
Samuel Johnson said patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel. Bullet posts are the last refuge of a distracted blogger. I’m sitting at the kitchen table in my parents’ house. I have prep work for tomorrow’s tailgate party done, and I’m enjoying the hell out of this bomber of Bison Imperial Stout, from Homestead Beer… Read More 16. bailing with bullets.
In the last week, chances are good that if I look down while doing stuff in the kitchen, that’s what I’m going to see. Charlie watches. He studies. If he’s awake, he wants to know what we’re doing and how it might fit into his new life. Sure, I’m aware of the thing about curiosity… Read More 12. wonder.
I’d write a full post tonight, but I’m trapped under something heavy*. *Not actually heavy.
Uncle Crappy 