Cold Water Rocket Science

I didn’t finish college. Well of course I never really began. Which explains my sentence structure and punctuation. I just have a few courses on the books in between thinking about it, and knowing it wasn’t going to be. So I didn’t take a course in plumbing. I never lettered in electrical maintenance, or for that matter non-electrical maintenance. And I didn’t go to trade school. Well, wait, that’s a lie. Yes, I did, and we did use plumbing and electricity. But it was Beauty College so it was to shampoo, rinse, dry, and style hair. That doesn’t count.

So, much to my delight Tuesday night upon washing my dishes – remember wash dishes, shampoo hair (some things just never leave you) - I discovered that the water heater was not creating that nectar of life, commonly known as hot water. Tuesday night, 11:30pm, is not a time I want to come to the devastating realization that I will have to stick my head in cold water at 7am the next morning to wake up. It means that I will not get a moment of sleep, for trying to figure a way out of the dilemma and Ducky isn’t at home, so I can’t foist the responsibility onto his shoulders. Of course he takes his shower at night so, drats anyway.

I run out and flip the breaker just to make sure that wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t. I put my ear to the water tank to listen to the inner workings, I don’t know maybe I was listening for internal bowel gurgles or something. No. Nothing. Nada. Bada bing.

Wednesday morning came far to early. I crossed my fingers hoping against hope as I ran water from the hot water tap. Nope still broke. A morning ritual, that must be followed by at least a pot of aromatic, dark roast coffee. To have only one gives an appearance of life, but it is only an image. To even contemplate plunging my body into cold water, “Uh huh honey. It ain’t happenin’.” Gritting my teeth I shampooed my hair in water so cold I know it came straight off the glaciers of Antarctica, took a spit bath, and went to work.

Now I rarely take lunch, but I was determined to have the parts Ducky would need to repair the problem. I bought not one, but two elements, and a thermostat. But something the handyman told me as he rung up my thermostat, made me curious as I drove home. So with screw driver in hand I went into the garage and removed the cover to make sure I’d bought the right part. No it didn’t look right at all, the one on the water heater had a red reset button that clicked when I pushed it.

Any smart girl knows this is both a good thing and a bad thing. The bad thing is that I just wasted the first lunch break I’d taken in easily three weeks to run down parts I did not need. But the really good thing was calling up Ducky and telling him I FIXED THE FRIGGIN’ WATER HEATER MYSELF! That always burns him.

Way Kewl!

Golden Slumbers

The mornings are mine. I love to fritter them away. Reading, doing research, Blog Reading, critiquing (which requires a lot of reading,) Music News….READING…Even sometime just reading news (that is desperate.)

But this morning it was all different. Well no not really, it all began – way different with the hot water heater biting the little one. That means it was full of really cold water. It could have been a lot worse, my three year old 50 gallon hot water heater could have been pouring ice water all over my garage floor. After rinsing my hair with luke warm water, putting on a face (it didn’t feel like mine, it was really cold) I went to read. Out of six blogs I visit more than once each day, only two had new content. THANK GOD FOR MIR. Not only is she an awesome read (usually at night) but she had the most interesting content today.

JUGGLING

Well I didn’t know it was juggling until I went to the link Golden Slumbers I will never look at that song again in the same light or with out smiling,. Well I’ve always smiled, but this afternoon when I play Golden Slumbers at 4:06pm Pacific Standard Time (I always play a Beatles tune at 4:06pm) I will smile at more than usual. I mean think about it…0ne of the greats lines ever “The love you take, is equal….to….the….love…you…make.” Perfection. Thank you Paul McCartney.

Now it gets even better. Not only had the ever lovely Mir left a juggling gift for her devotees, but the Andi upped the ante with this GEM

So I spent the morning smiling. The world should be filled with great bloggers, music, and apparently awesome jugglers.

Way Kewl!

Blogging Bootcamp Washout

My first inclination would be to invoke the “I didn’t sign up for this” platform, but that would be a lie.

“Say that loud and proud private.”

“THAT WOULD BE A BIG FAT LIE, MA’AM.SIR. I MEAN SIR, MA’AM.”

I lust after the ability to blog on about anything. To have a life that gives me endless opportunities to prattle about endlessly. Situations into which I would gallantly lead my legions of faithful bloggees on a daily basis. And then nightly, after lights out, flick on the monitor and revel in their replies. A world of friends, of words, and life – literally outside of life itself.

But. No. Here I sit trying to marshal my thoughts into orderly units of words marching seamlessly across my page. All to save Blogging 4 Books. I love books, I love blogs, I hang on every word issued by the blogging heroes of my mornings and late nights. Those who have valiantly paved the way for us blogging wanna-bes. Privates in the Army of Words who couldn’t do a week’s worth of humorous blogging if our lives depended on it, and therefore wash out of Blogging Boot Camp in the first week.

I hate that thought, more than the fear that kept me from joining the military in the first place. BOOTCAMP. The fear of boot-camp, and the PT that went with it kept me, from joining back in the mid-seventies. Which is good because I then found out I was preggers and well, you didn’t have unmarried (well then I did get married) enlistees run their butts off in PT only to give birth on the proving grounds. Nope that just wouldn’t work.

So I did the next best thing, I married a guy going into the Army.

“AN ENLISTEE, SIR. YES, SIR!.”

But I digress; we aren’t revisiting him again. Well, at least not this time, because I am soooo over that. But I’m not over words. No I could never be over words. I would have a love affair with the written word that would cover volumes, tomes, whole libraries if I could. But I can’t marshal the long term, complete with an ending, storyline. I am therefore ever enlisted into the ranks of word privates (not even a PFC.) Where I shall hang on the every word of my Blog Generals: Jackson, Collins, Carson, and that Mir lady. Standing in the wings provoked into a witty (oh, please let it be witty) retort. Challenged into deep thought by the musings that await me each morning and night on the battlefield of blogging words.

Ah, life is good. I mean…

“LIFE IS GOOD, SIR. YES, SIR!”