Me, CherkyB: "I've decided maybe I'm clinically depressed."I realized yesterday that my daughter pronounces the "t" in "often". I think she might be British. I'm not sure why, though it's rumored I have some grandparents from there.
The Mrs.: "Oh?"
Me, CherkyB: "Yes. I think I'd like to be depressed. That way, none of this would be my fault."
The Mrs.: "You should get some pills for your depression then."
Me, CherkyB: "Oh, that would work out spectacularly."
Speaking of British, you know how they like to boil their food? I believe the Irish do this as well (there's no accounting for taste, as they say). Well, imagine, if you will, saying this to someone, "Yes, yes, boiling is wonderful, but if you really want to bring out the flavor of a dish, instead of boiling I recommend soaking the food in tepid water for ten hours."
You should give it a try.
There have been many awe-inspiring new developments in the old Cherky household that I would have told you about as they happened, excepting I'm in a deep funk that requires me to sit around in the basement (a place I have decided to call "my flat") watching TV for all my free time. A TV that is not more than 15 feet from my blogging compooter - a distance I find insurmountable.
This, of course, made all the worse by the fact that my blogging compooter is a laptop that has an extended life battery that lasts over three hours and so would be easily ported to the couch on which I recline while watching TV, except that would require walking all the way over here from over there. Though over here is right next to the bar, a place somehow I am able to keep up with visiting. Plus, I can blog from my phone, though the blogging app doesn't support the blockquotes format, so I can't do those little conversations I have with The Mrs. that form the basis of so many of my posts, and that makes me sad.
So, let me just tell you about Sunday. Sunday was the day of days. But first, a little setup is in order. You all remember a couple weeks back how I started getting sick, so I had to go sleep in the basement guest room (AKA Granny's Room). Well, either The Mrs. or I have been sick the entire time since then, and so I've managed to keep sleeping in the basement, hence I have begun to refer to the basement as "my flat." I had been calling it "my apartment," but that seemed somewhat lowbrow and annoyed The Mrs. quite a bit. After weighing the pros and cons of that, I decided I really didn't like being lowbrow. One of the side-effects of me living in my flat is that I am sleeping uncommonly well given the lack of constant interruption from MaxieC and the always-present exasperated tsk-tsking from The Mrs. at every tiny little noise. However, there has been one little thing.
I've found I sometimes lose sleep if I don't have a gun with me. I left the gun up with The Mrs., figuring that I'm a very deep sleeper, whereas she's quite a light sleeper, and so if'n anything came to pass, I'd probably sleep through the whole thing in the nice quiet, dark basement, so it'd be better if she had the gun. But, I woke up at 3am on Saturday night thinking to myself, "Self, the only thing in this room that'd be marginally useful against a home invasion is your guitar. And really, that's a pretty light guitar to be bashing over anyone's head. Plus, it's not easily replaceable, given it hasn't been made for over 15 years. You should come up with another plan."
Now, I'm a reasonably bright guy, so coming up with a plan wasn't all that difficult. Especially since "the gun" up there means, "the gun I have in the bedside GunVault," not "the one gun I have." This really boiled down to getting another GunVault. So when I got up out of bed on Sunday, I was determined to go score another GunVault. I emerged from my flat, and The Mrs. started crabbing at me about something - I don't know what cuz I don't pay it any mind any more - so I said:
Me, CherkyB: "I'm going out."Off we went. MaxieC, when we got there, declared that he needed some snorkel gear. Why, I know not, but it definitely in some way involved the fact that HannahC had some, and he didn't. So I snagged him a snorkel. Then I looked at the bedside safes. They had everything under the sun but the one I wanted. I wanted to get one identical to the one I had, given that in the middle of the night when someone is intruding, you may not want to go, "Hmmm...now which safe is this, and how do I open this one?"
The Mrs.: "But I'm making breakfast!"
Me, CherkyB: "Do I normally eat breakfast?"
The Mrs.: "No."
Me, CherkyB: "OK then. I'm going out."
The Mrs.: "Where?"
Me, CherkyB: "Shopping."
The Mrs.: "Where?"
Me, CherkyB: "I think probably Sportsman's".
The Mrs.: "But HannahC has to be at the ice rink by 12:30."
Me, CherkyB: "I think I can make it to Sportsman's and back in three hours. It's only ten minutes from here. Did MaxieC eat?"
The Mrs.: "Yes."
Me, CherkyB: "Great. I'll take him with me."
And thus we were off to Jax, which about a year ago opened a location quite near Sportsman's. Well, Jax had big stacks of exactly the model I was looking for. Hot damn. I bought one, and as we were walking out of the place, I spied a whole bunch of outdoor power equipment lined up over towards the right. And lo, there was the sweetest looking little chipper there. I mean, what's not to like about a 10hp engine with 14.5 lbs-ft of torque in a compact package for under $1000?
So I had to buy a chipper, too.
I got home at about 11:30 with my new chipper and gun safe, and MaxieC ran in the house to show The Mrs. his new snorkel. She came out to announce that she was about to make breakfast and to ask if I wanted any.
Now, see, two hours earlier, I thought we had already had this conversation. I'm pretty damn sure she was about to make breakfast when I left. But, being as that I was temporarily happy from spending over $1000 on my purchases, I didn't want to get her all catty at me (well, any more than usual), so I acquiesced and agreed to eat scrambled eggs.
But this was killing me. A brand new chipper, less than an hour before we have to leave for the ice rink (HannahC had a competition - she won!), and I've got to eat breakfast instead of playing with my new toy. So I got it out of the truck and filled it with gas while she cooked the eggs, then I gobbled down my breakfast as fast as I could and ran outside to play.
Now, naturally, given that I was in a hurry, I decided to forgo all those safety things like eye protection and gloves and steel toe boots. I blazed it up (and let me tell you, pull-starting a 305cc 10HP engine is not what I would call a joy of joys) and looked around for a branch. I had many piles of branches lying around from the fall and winter that were awaiting the arduous, all-day task of chipping them in my horrible electric chipper, and I grabbed the biggest one that was nearby and put it into the branch feed chute.
With the electric chipper, you have to push the branches in slowly to get them to shred. So I had a nice firm grasp on the branch, and I pushed it in, and it tore the branch right out of my hand with that wonderfully satisfying "ZZZZZrrrrroooopp" sound that real chippers make.
Of course, if you have a nice tight grip on a branch, and it is torn out of your hand, well, some collateral damage is to be expected. It also tore a big flap of skin off the web between my thumb and first finger.
Note to self - leather gloves.
So branch one down, and one injury. Just moments left before we have to shut down and head to the ice rink, so I look around for something fun to shred, and I see a pile of nice long, straight sticks. I grab me a handful.
Oh. Sh!t. These are raspberry bush branches. Raspberry bush branches are completely covered with fine prickers that break off in your skin if you grab them.
Maybe I'm not depressed. Maybe I'm retarded.
OK, that's it. I'm done running the chipper without gloves. I shut her down just in time to head to the ice rink, where I spend the next hour trying to pull raspberry prickers out of my hands with my fingernails.
HannahC skated beautifully, and she won "Level Two Freestyle with Music", receiving 3 first and two second place rankings from panel of five judges, thus securing first place.
Upon returning home, I got my boots on and some eye gear and my gloves, and I fired up the chipper again. Woo hoo! I chomped up everything in about 45 minutes. It was, I must say, spectacular.
Though I am easily amused.
Tonight, if you decide to break in to my house, you'll need to decide if you want to face 180gr Winchester Supreme Elite JHP .40 S&W or take your changes with 147gr Federal Hydra-Shok JHP 9mm. You'll have to guess which is which, but if you make enough noise, maybe you'll get to see both.
I will sleep soundly.