Always an Obstructionist

I had to go into work today to complete an emergency project. Kristine was working, as well, so I drew the short straw to get all the kids.  As we were driving to the office, the kids begged for tunes.  I knew they wanted me to turn on a hit music station, but I didn't feel like it.  I elected for Classical Minnesota Public Radio, 99.5 FM.  As a score played, the following conversation ensued:

Felicity (6): "Hey guys!  This song is real."

Frederic (8), without skipping a beat: "No it's not!!!!"

Me (33): "Um...what does "this song is real" mean and why would you say "no it's not"?

I pestered the two with this question in several different ways because it seemed to confuse them quite thoroughly that they were being asked to explain themselves.

Felicity: "Um...I don't know.  I actually forgot."

Me: "Fred.  What does "real" mean and why did you disagree?  Felicity doesn't even know what it means."

Fred: "I don't know."

Just as I thought.  It didn't matter what Felicity said.  All that mattered, to Fred, was that there had to be a clear opposing position to any statement that she made.  He was ready, at a moment's notice, to disagree.

The boy has a job in politics.  I should start grooming him now.  

Life....changing

Yes.  Like any good company that looks at their bottom line, the health of their owners and employees, and their overall efficiency, among other factors, Kristine and I are changing up a few things.

The details don't matter, except to say that our life will potentially become a bit more relaxed.  And no, if you work with me, I am most definitely NOT quitting my day job.  Never in a million years would I consider that - unless of course, I was offered a job on the moon.  That would be fun.  I've always had a soft spot for cheese.  

Speaking of cheese, one of the only cheeses...that word really sounds like Jesus, when you say it out loud, fast, and a few times.  This might be why cheese isn't popular in the super-Christian southern United States.  A few poor blokes probably got a hankering for some cheeses and invited a few other poor saps over for a tasting party.

To make a long story short, the invitees mistook their verbal invitation to taste some cheeses as a vulgar swipe at their most revered holy man.  After tying the chaps to a few large trees and whipping them with straps of Fruit of the Loom underwear waistbands, they let the young lads go, having thoroughly scared the cheese out of them and ruining any inroads of cheese culture from entering the south.

I love history.

I work for a really great company

I work for a company of about 50 people.  Every last one of them knows that I love Pearson's Salted Nut Rolls.  The company provides perpetual snacks and drinks (purchased from one of my favorite retailers - Costco) to keep us all satiated, fat, and happy.  Better yet, they care about individualized tastes, provide gluten-free items, gourmet coffee, and, when possible, nut rolls.

Today, I received a personal delivery of three nut rolls.  A co-worker (one of the original half-dozen employees) opened my door and threw them at my head.

Those were the best three bruises I have gotten in a long time.

Well...other than the bruise that my wife gave me when we were...oh, nevermind.  I'll keep that one to myself.