I found some Cheddar Bunnies mixed into the dirty laundry earlier. You know, like Goldfish, except in bunny form. The Ash tried to tell me that Henry had put 'em there and then she acted all innocent. Wife, please. I know she's secretly hatching a plot to turn all our clothes orange, though I can't imagine why since she's not the one that went to UT. That would be me, though I must admit, I'm a crappy Longhorn. I own not a single item of burnt orange clothing. I guess that's what happens when you're one of the three people in Texas who's not into football.
Lest ye think all I did today was laundry, I've actually been rather productive. I got up early to go join in a Habitat for Humanity build. First thing I see when I walk up to the work site was this monstrous rooster just walking around, proud as could be. Huge, I tell you. I asked if he was the foreman, but he just ignored me and wandered off clucking something about somebody owing him money and a ring in the basement of a bar somewhere.
Turns out I was assigned to the crew of yet another Holmes...Larry Holmes to be exact. No, not the boxer, nor any relation that I'm aware of. Thanks to Larry, I now know more about putting up sheet rock than I did yesterday, which was zero.
I left the build a little before lunchtime. On my way out, I looked in my rear-view mirror and spotted that rooster beating up a couple of teenagers. Sorry kids, I'd love to help you out, but I don't need that rooster pissed at me, and I've got a birthday party to get to. Besides, you're teenagers so you probably deserve it.
The aforementioned party was for none other than the first birthday of Stella, daughter of our friends Tim and Julie. Many babies, lots of food, a fridge full of beer, delicious cake, and plenty of familiar faces - can't ask for much more than that. Julie even dished up a baby-safe cake that the little munchkins scarfed down like it contained breastmilk. But I don't think it did. Anyway, Happy Birthday Stella!
Following the party, I spent the afternoon engaged in some serious playtime with the Googanator. That would be Henry. We don't have any one single pet name for him, more like hundreds, each of which has several variations and spin-offs of its own. Ash and I are the same with each other's pet names. It's just like that around here. If I sat down with a pen and paper, I could probably trace the pet names she calls me now back to the pet names she had for me when we first hooked up. These things evolve.
The morning's spirit of industriousness was apparently still lingering because I finally hung up the window shelf that The Ash has been asking me to take care of for a few weeks. I been busy, yo, lay off. But it's up now and it's beautiful. Only seven bajillion more projects to go and we'll be done.
On another note, you may have noticed that I've been messing with my template here recently. I just kinda got tired of having all my widget bling squished into one column. Not sure I'm happy with it just yet. I dunno honey, maybe we should put the couch against the other wall under the deer head? But in the midst of moving stuff around, I noticed that my archives go back to March 2005. The Holmes as a blog has existed for two years and I didn't even notice it. I should clarify, it hasn't always been at this address, I moved it over here last September when I decided I didn't feel like paying for my old site where I had pages devoted to what an amazing playwright I am. I couldn't stand the thought of all those posts just being lost in the ether, especially since that blog started right about the time The Ash and I went public with the pregnancy. I couldn't just let the record of the months leading up to our son's birth be lost, so I actually went to the trouble of moving them all over, which is why there are no comments on any posts before that, it's not just because I suck. And before The Holmes blog existed, I was blogging over at Loaded Gun Theory for I don't even know how long. Point is, this blogging thing has been a part of my life for something like four years now. I wonder if the day will come when I just decide blogging is for idiots and that I'm no longer interested in posting my thoughts and the events of my life for just anybody to read. I don't know. All's I know is that was one big ass rooster.