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Broken Lance and Yarn Crawl Parking

I slept late this morning. Oh, Maggie (the Great Pyrenees) scratched on the bed at 5:00, but I went back to bed. I went to bed last night at an age appropriate time, but I didn’t go to sleep. No, that time was not 7:30.

I was lying in bed watching an old Western movie called “Broken Lance”. Spencer Tracy, Robert Wagner, Richard Widmark, some chick; (1954).

I had never seen this movie before and actually, I thought it was pretty good. Elaine thought so too. I know this because I looked over at her and she had on her earphones listening to a book on her tablet, glasses on and eyes closed. I thought to myself, “It doesn’t matter, It’s my birthday and I get to pick what’s on television. (Did you get that birthday part? We’re going to talk about that in a minute.)

With Elaine asleep, and less than a half hour of the movie left, I decided to be considerate (Don’t act surprised.) and turn down the volume of the television. I had a senior citizen moment. I pushed the on/off button, not the volume button. When I turned the television back on, I was watching a food channel. (It took a while to find the correct button in the dark.) I will never know how Spencer Tracy dies and if Robert Wagner hooks up with the chick, whose name I do not know. (Before anyone takes exception with my use of the word “chick”, movies are called chick flics, not woman flics. God, I hate living in 2018.)

I was a “little” disappointed with the turn of events. I laid in bed and fumed. I ended up watching a food channel until 1:48 AM. (I looked at the clock.) Maggie scratched three hour and twelve minutes later.

Ivy insists that I tell stories about Your Daily Fiber. What’s great is, I have one to tell, and I can include my birthday in the story.

As you might know, Your Daily Fiber has been participating in the Hot August Knits Yarn Crawl. I don’t get this yarn crawl thing. Nobody crawls. Everyone just walks into the store. Actually, after watching this yarn crawl thing for quite a few years, if someone does crawl I’m calling 911!

Anyway, the beer joint a couple doors down scheduled some kind of celebration at the exact time Your Daily Fiber was yarn crawling. The beer joint’s customers were “stealing” Your Daily Fiber’s (and other businesses) parking spaces.

Now, we could discuss why the city zoning staff would allow a beer joint without its own parking would be allowed there, but that would be a political discussion. Sadly, Elaine has forbid those discussions here on Monners Mumblings. Besides, I think the city zoning department likes beer. Sheez, have you been to this town, there is a beer joint on every corner! (Sorry, that was my outside voice.)

Our landlord placed signs informing the beer joint customers it was not OK to park in our lot. And then! Some clown (outside voice) drove past the sign, parked next to the sign and with his own “growler” in his hand, headed for the beer joint.

I asked the guy if he would not park where the “crawlers” were parking. He ignored me and continued to walk. I followed him to the door of the beer joint. I was saying “Hey, buddy, hey buddy! Could you not park there?”

When he called me a (construction language) hole, I might have lost it a bit. I might have mentioned to him he didn’t need the calories (or Weight Watcher points). I might have used (construction language). It doesn’t matter, he moved his car.

So, having told that little story, I want you to know if you have not yarn crawled at Your Daily Fiber, you have more time. Be assured, no beer joint customer will be in your parking spot.

Elaine and the kids made it a special birthday for me. As a family we went to one of our “favorite” restaurants. Girl Twin complained there was nothing on the menu and ordered a salad. She didn’t eat it and told me it was going to make her throw up. I should have known when she said, “I hate this place.”

Boy Twin ordered a fifteen dollar bison burger. He said “This better be good, can I have another root beer?” It surprised me that he liked it, but mentioned burgers were better at the fast-food down the street.

We drove home to have a piece of cake (cheese cake) and open the gifts the family had bought for me. The gifts were extremely thoughtful. Even the shoes. You see folks, none pf this is not all my fault. The kids make me this way.

Our crazy lives!


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