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Morning confessions, afternoon daydreams, and evening wind-downs. |
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This is dedicated to my daughter, Azalea Paige Kraynak. You're half the cause of some of these entries, but that's why I love you. There's rarely a day that you don't surprise me with the things you do and say. I've changed since the start of this, of course I think that's to be expected - I'm not an overworked pessimist anymore. I'm and adequately worked, for the most part happy idealist who holds the occasional cynical view of someone whose done seen some @$*#. That said, these are the new and improved ramblings of a guy who lives a life that I find to be occasionally comical. |
| Strange as it might sound, Wednesday marks the start of my weekend going from nightshift to dayshift. In that case, I had 1 beer in the fridge. Now I have none, I'm drinking it right now. Yes, at 8:00 in the morning, I'm drinking a beer, I worked all night in a steel mill, it takes something cold to get the heat of a steel mill out of you, seriously, you have no idea. 3000 degrees burning in your face for 8 hours tends to warm you up. At this point, with all the talk of alcohol I do, I'm guessing it probably seems like I'm in cups when I'm not at work. I'm not. I do however like the taste, strange as that may seem to some people, I appreciate the subtle bitterness of beer and the gentle burn of a good whiskey. It has the ability to remove this stupid and annoying draft coming from somewhere behind me. I've looked for the source of this draft for 2 years, can't find it. That's the problem with living in a house over 100 years old its drafty as hell and everything in it breaks, all the time. ALL THE TIME. I really mean that. It's like a weekly occurrence that something in this place needs some attention. This time, it's the bathroom. Whole remodel needs to be done at this point, which I'm going to welcome and curse at the same time. Anyone who's ever been around a husband in the middle of fixing something understands. (I apologize for the curse word here but there's no other way to say this) Losing your shit is just part of the process. Really, it is. House work, remodeling, and most especially working on the car or the truck. I tend to lose my temper, swear words fly like a gaggle of geese, and occasionally something might go sailing behind it. That's how I fix things. I lose my shit. They get fixed though. It's strange when I think about it, I'm for the most part a pretty even keeled individual. 12 years of traveling abroad for work really used up whatever stress I had in me, and I want to enjoy the time I've got in peace and blissful empty headedness. Still, something about fixing things really lights that spark and I'm reminded that I still have that signature redhead temper buried somewhere in there. Then I'm reminded that my youngest daughter is a redhead. Then I take a swig, knowing that in about another 12 or 13 years, I'm going have a far more pronounced temper living in the house with me, losing her shit. That alone deserves a drink, but during this rant I drank my fill, and now I have an empty can. Bummer. |
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Thanks! Life is good, frustrating, but funny. I try to find humor in my day to day world and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
