With the new Wild West knitting Retreat right around the corner, my construction life has hit a snag. Beervirus! Before you get all fired up, and start sending me get-well-soon cards, I don’t have or know anyone who currently has beervirus. But let’s talk about the knitting retreat first. (Just following Ivy’s instructions.) The Retreat is all-new this year. The location is new, but still in the mountains of Northern Colorado, a little more than an hour’s drive from Fort Coll

Holy Cow!! I just found out those white things sticking out of people’s ears are wireless earphones. It’s true, even the twins have them. I should have known sooner, but I didn’t realize so many people need to listen to music everywhere they go. I had previously thought they were a new style of designer earplugs designed to block out all background noise or tell people they weren’t in the mood to talk. Ivy has wireless earphones, but they are black and connected to each other

History repeats itself, even if you try to change it. A while back, I stepped on a nail at home somewhere where I shouldn’t have been wearing my frocs. (Elaine’s words, not mine.) Well, it happened again. This time frocs were not involved and it didn’t happen at home. In spite, of Elaine’s unfair rules, history has repeated itself with different results. Different, but equally unpleasant. Back in the day, the froc incident resulted in a short hospital stay. After a few days o

I don’t usually write on Monday, but Monday usually isn’t a federal holiday, so I’m breaking the rules a little bit. As we know, yesterday was Independence Day, the Fourth of July. No one can complain louder or longer when the weather turns hotter than Elaine, usually around the Fourth of July. Last year, the beervirus canceled the smalltown fireworks show that we had been accustomed to attending. Last Fourth of July, Elaine and I decided to beat the heat and the beervirus an

Recently I have found myself thinking about my childhood. Many people think about their childhoods as they look into the mirror and see what age does to a person. I am well aware my once brown hair is now white as January snow. White hair runs in my family. My mother told stories of finding her first white/gray hair in her late teen years. By thirty-five she stopped looking. No, I’m not thinking about white hair. I’m thinking about cartoons, the cartoons of my childhood. I k