Random Semicoherent Thoughts – Volume 6

Apologies to the one or two fans and/or robots that have been waiting patiently for new content.  My writing priority for the weekends is a love letter to my Ms. Boss. Nothing else gets written until that gets finished. When I say ‘finished’, I mean perfect. Sometimes it takes a little longer to complete than others, especially during a jam-packed weekend. I actually am working on essay that I feel passionate about, but it won’t be done today.


I saw two Canadian Geese strolling through a fallow corn field this week on my way home from an errand. I was about to note the experience as odd and move on with my life, when I noticed two tiny goslings strolling along behind them. I am secure enough in my manhood to publicly pronounce the sight as ‘extremely cute’.


To my knowledge, it has been four days since Ozzy had pooped in the house. This should be considered a noteworthy achievement.


The miracle that is a smartphone is allowing me to blog at my youngest’s soccer practice. I am tremendously thankful for the time.


Some of you may wonder what I do for a living (for the record, blogging so far is a money-losing proposition).  I do technical work, but other than that, I’m not allowed to say. Yes, I know, First Amendment and all that, I’m still not going to say.


For those of you younger than forty-five, no – time does not get slower as you get older.  It gets faster and faster and faster. While working on an essay, I wrote down an event that happened a year or two ago to me, only it didn’t happen a year or two ago.  Once I started piecing the time line together, it happened over four years ago. Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping…


I went to Trader Joe’s yesterday and spent the whole visit singing along to the muzak. Yes, forty-five years old and not afraid to embarrass myself every once in awhile.


Flour, yeast, water, salt.  You only need these four things to make bread. This is perhaps one of the most important pieces of information I have ever picked up in my life.


These thoughts seem to be more random and more semicoherent than usual.  Since my phone is about to die, it’s probably time quit… at… word… number… 392..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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