Hi! At us?

Almost through with putting this stuff to bed—still have my drawing to do—once more dithering around with the old Kress building I wrote about a while back. (You'll have to scroll down to the post for Thursday.) One of the various Banes of My Existence just came by asking if I had done it yet. “Yep—all I have left to do is to start working on it.” Bad person.

Anyway, I am technically still on my pre-vacation blogging hiatus, so as with all the other poo this week, today’s installment will be mercifully short.

COMMENTS Oooo—you people like your comments! Thanks to everyone who has written in. Some of you have expressed concern that Chet the E-Mail Boy will be upset, but remember he doesn’t read this and doesn’t know anything about the new feature, so he should be just fine. Unless someone tells him.

VACATION As some of you will no doubt notice, Glenn Reynolds and I are both going to be away.

At the same time.

It’s not what you think. Honest.

In actuality, although I may have given some of you the impression that I will be away near a beach somewhere, I will actually be at my house, guarding my precious possessions while cleaning and test firing various specimens from my arsenal. So nobody needs to come and try to steal nothing. ‘Cause I’ll be there. Just a shootin’ and actin’ like a raving lunatic. So stay away from the house. (Actually, I’m sort of afraid a burglar might hurt himself on all the avalanche of toys strewn all over the house, and a civil action by an aggrieved trespasser is the last thing I need while on vacation.) I’m not too worried, really—the elderly lady next door is very suspicious of strangers, especially when she’s got a batch of meth cooking up.

One kind reader, noting my girlophilic tendencies, asked if I would be able to keep my eyeballs from doing cartoonish bug-outs in the coming days in a bikini-rich environment. Well, yes, I like looking at non-males, but everyone should remember that my idea of an ideal vacation is being allowed to sit quietly in a comfy chair in a small, air-conditioned room with the teevee locked on the History Channel. I figure I will have one of these ideal vacations no earlier than about fifteen years hence (assuming the kids have moved away and leave me with a teevee). And that I don’t have to give Reba the remote.

As it is, I will go to bed around midnight tonight, get up at dawn, drive for many, many hours with people whose kidneys are the size of watermelons and whose bladders are the size of teaspoons, stopping along the way to look at large peaches and insane asylums and being cajoled to purchase charming, yet highly useless souvenirs.

Upon arrival, there will be enough materiel to equip a large army to unload and tote. Being that I am the only dad in the van, the unloading and toting will be on my action item list. Midway through unloading, I will be assaulted by tiny children who somehow managed to get on swimsuits, who will want to go get in the pool. I will protest, saying that if I had a little help, I could get the remainder of their ingots of lead hauled upstairs, after which we could all enjoy a swim; which, being a use of logic, will bring about a collective blank look.

Later there will be a trip to the store to get groceries, and later still trips to EVERY SINGLE beach shop within approximately fifty miles in order to purchase the finest in rubber sharks and colorful beach-themed doo-dads. There will be much swimming and the attendant necessity to haul my graceless large body from the cool water to make several trips to escort tiny-bladdered swimmers to the bathroom. And then there will be sand, grinding its brilliant whiteness into unreachable crevices which are not supposed to contain sand. And there will be the inevitable trip back. I am praying that this year will not see the need to creep all the way from Prattville to Birmingham as happened last year. (As with the link up at the tip, this is an Old Blogger post--you'll have to scroll all the way to the bottom. That is, if it actually lets you get there.)

Anyway, no matter what happens, it’s bound to be better than sitting here! So, all of you have a good time while I vacate—keep an eye on Chet for me—he’s already gone through half a box of his corn flakes. I told him he’s not getting any more, but you know how he is.

See you all after while!
posted by Terry at 3:57:00 PM