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Carpet, Horses and Yarn

I should get the mall stuff out of the way so we can talk about yarn.

Elaine has always told me this day would come. I have become my parents! I can’t handle some of the hairstyles of the youth. (I will get to the mall stuff, just hang with me.)

My parents were not happy about my choice of hairstyle (or lack of hairstyle) in my teenage years. To tell you the truth Elaine didn’t like it much either, then or now. I washed my hair daily, combed it while wet in the morning, cut it rarely and whatever happened, happened

Professional football players are wearing their hair longer these days. Well, this is not a new style. The players have chosen to copy a hairstyle pioneered by my friends and I back in the 1970′s . I don’t know why!

I always wanted to be tolerant of new hair styles; I guess I’m not.

While walking in the mall I was approached by what I’m guessing was a young male. I’m pretty sure it was a young male because it had a young man’s voice. I really couldn’t tell if he was male because he had allowed his hair to cover 100% of his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, his nose or mouth. He was sporting the best Cousin It I have ever seen. (You younger guys might need to look that one up.)

As he approached me, I realized he was speaking to me.

Cousin: Do you know how to get out of the mall? Me: What? Cousin: The exits! Do you know where they are?

Oh-Oh, I couldn’t help myself!

Me: Well, you might be able to see them if them if you cut your hair. Cousin: What? Me: Well at least push it to the side, then you might recognize something. Cousin: I can’t find the exits. Me: OK, just walk next to me, I’m headed out.

I led him out of the building, I’m not sure if he got home.

There is some good news from the mall. The rains have lessened, allowing me to have the carpet installed. I don’t know why, but that really strikes me as funny. A new store with new carpet and buckets sitting around the store catching the water that is dripping through the roof. Oh yeah, and every one of the decision makers is carrying a “SMART” phone.

I did however, walk into the nearly completed store in the mall to find it unusually bright. My first thought was someone had left the lights on. Unfortunately, it was not that simple. The mall contractor (the one responsible for fixing the roof) had cut a three foot by three foot hole in the roof direct above my new carpet. (Not making this up folks.)

With spring thunderstorms brewing to the west I determined having a three foot by three foot hole in the roof directly above my freshly laid carpet might be a problem. I did what every construction worker in 2015 would do. I got out my “smart” phone and took a photograph.

I guess the roof contractor had to remove an old heating/air conditioning unit. The schedule on his “smart” phone decide that was the best day to remove the unit.

Would someone tell Elaine and Ivy they should hire me to dye yarn in the store? I can’t take much more of this.

Horses! The extent of my horse knowledge is this. Horses are big (except for the miniature ones). Horses have tails. Horses are in cowboy movies.

I have ridden horses before. A few years back, I had a buddy who owned a hunting lodge located deep in the mountains of Colorado. The lodge was accessible by four wheel drives and horseback.

Once a year, Elaine, the kids, (first batch) and I had friends rode horses to the lodge. When you ride a horse for hours once a year, no matter how big and cushion-y your (construction language) is, it hurts for days to walk. There, that is the extent of my horse knowledge!

Girl Twin, unlike her Monner, likes to ride horses. Girl Twin has friends with horses. Girl Twin attends sleep overs and I guess they ride horses.

Yesterday, Girl Twin asked if she could go to a rodeo with her friends. I like to watch rodeos, I thought she would enjoy watching a rodeo, also.

Girl Twin placed 4th in barrel racing (her friend placed 3rd) and 2nd in pole bending. My butt hurts just thinking about it. Good job girls!

I know I promised to talk about yarn today. However yarn is rarely funny. Construction; now that’s funny!

Our crazy lives!


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