Monday, June 20, 2011

I hate to admit it…

Well, my wife and daughter returned this week from their six-day rafting trip with the Girl Scouts. Even though I missed them terribly, within fifteen minutes I was wondering when their next trip was schedule. (Mid July if you’re playing at home.) This isn’t a reflection on them. It is an announcement of what a persnickety old man I have become.


I’ll never forget the words of that great Queen of Egypt, Pharaoh Phawcett, when she said, “Clean up your mess. It’s starting to sphinx in here.” (ba dum bum). How can two demure and delicate little flowers turn a place that would make Oscar Madison cringe in so short a time? I know how much of a klutz I can be also. I mean I can trip over a shadow. So when I have to walk the gauntlet of shoes strewn about the living room like fish on a dock after a good catch, I’m taking my life in my hands, or should I say feet. I could only imagine what the campsite looked like when they were through with it.


I admit I was a little jealous when I saw the pictures they took and heard about everything they did. Usually when I’m home alone I think of all these wonderful things I plan on doing with my free time. The restaurants that no one wants to try, or maybe the movie that only fits my taste. The truth is once they’re gone I loose all interest. It was like that with my older two children as well. I would think, “I’m going to try that new Scandinavian-Nepalese place over on 63rd,” but would wind up watching Turner Classic Movies and making Chicken Quesadillas for ten people and having it everyday for the week. As much as I like good food and cooking, when I’m by myself I eat like a terrier, gobbling up whatever is thrown in front of me. Are all husbands and fathers this way, or only the contented ones?


Here is my second plein air oil. I’m much happier with this one. Onward, and hopefully, upward.


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