Can't see anything out there that gets me wound up enough to make fun of this morning. Ah, well.
Kaylee swung by yesterday and hung out with Sarah from downstairs for a bit, before coming up and sitting on the porch for the usual mix of catching up on old friends, girlie chatter, and oohing and aahing over the Leupold CQ/T. (Which is pretty darn swoopy and wins the "looks most like a prop from a SciFi movie" contest hands down.) She's so artsy-craftsy; the whole time we talked, her hands were all busy stitching up some leather cowboy holster project she was working on. It reminded me of a time at a friend's cabin in the woods. The first morning there, me and my hangover settled down with a book by the campfire to enjoy a pleasant vacation day of doing nothing. Kaylee went skipping barefoot into the woods, to pick wildflowers or something, I reckoned. Nope. Thirty minutes later she returned with two small trees she had felled and proceeded to make wood chips fly. I had to ask.
"What are you doing?"
"I just read a book on paleolithic bowmaking. I'm making a bow. Actually, two bows."
"Well stop it. I'm on vacation, and I'm getting tired just watching you."
She went back to woodchip flinging, and did indeed make two bows. And they worked. To folks like me, who consider making a paper hat to be a major accomplishment, this looks like absolute voodoo.
After she left last night, I watched Boondock Saints with Bob, who had not seen it before. His verdict was that it "didn't completely suck," which is high praise from Bob. By the time it was over, it was 2AM and the sandman had near beat me to death. Whatever happened to the days when I could party the night away and go to work the next morning with a bounce in my step? Nowadays it seems Sunday mornings have me downing mass quantities of OJ, coffee, and Tylenol in a desperate bid to summon the energy to face the day; a far cry from stumbling out of some den of iniquity, pulling on the Wayfarers, and exclaiming aloud "My god! Are those people jogging?!?"
Ah, lost youth.
Anyhow, work beckons. Maybe I'll think of something smarmy to type by this evening.