We each have a super-hero identity ’round here. No big secret.
Skwaking Buffalo the Destroyer…
we have road handles too, for when we travel. They all begin with “Drifter”
Our last road trip left me with the title “Drifter Gas Station” (because you certainly are not able to title your own-self.)
I’ve been lobbying for a new title….good thing I’m not a lobbyist…cause I get shut down constantly.
A glimpse in to the past 24 hours out here on the brink:
– 3 toilets full of shit clogged and overflowing by the Destroyer…he keeps “ruining the bathroom” as an act of defiance while his padre is away. Awesome avenue for that kiddo. Bravo. For the love of god, I hope to help him shed passive aggressive ways before he leaves my nest…or flies my coop. And because he is 3, and only a teaspoon of helpful, I clean it up. And gag. And pat myself on my Hardscrabble back.
-a busted pellet stove. I made several attempts to repair it, and met failure each time. And this morning, at the coffee shop (of course), Joe Brandl mentioned something about an obscure tray. And I listened. And when I got home this afternoon, and locked the Skwaking Buffalo in his room for “quiet time”, and threatened Hardware Store…I got down to business. I found the tray removed it, cleaned it all impeccably….then spent an hour trying to figure out how to replace it. Did…waited, with my sooty fingers literally crossed, for ignition. Nailed it…and may now have “the black lung”
-our washing machine door is hinged on nothing. I really cannot figure out how I keep managing to latch it…but I do. And I got to that load of laundry that has been chillin wet-in-the-washer since before Brud and Sarah were here, rewashed and transferred to the dryer (with a couple dryer sheets soaked in oils).
– wheat and dairy limited.
– unable to chat with Deep Woods…because he is deep-in-the-Guatemalan-jungle.
-up in the 5’s all week…and the late 4’s this morning….and it was a rough one cause last night’s wood fire had long worn off, and the pellet stove was kaput. The temperature was in the single digits and it felt effing frigid in the living room. But since we were up by 5, and don’t leave till 7:30…we endured…as best we could…and it looked neither Cool nor Kind.
At dinner tonight, I lobbied again.
“Hero of Horse Creek, guys?”
“Drifter Brilliant Genius…whattdaya think?” We are warm again, afterall!
No Mommo…you are Drifter Gas Station.
I continue to endure…Canada to Mexico….