[ul]Saturday:[/ul]Woke up. Rolled over. Went back to sleep. Repeated several times until dogs licking me in my face let me know they want outside RIGHT F***IN’ NOW!!!
Let dogs outside. Went back to bed. Slept s’more.
Woke up and got online. Checked out SDMB.
Dogs making noise outside. “We’ve pooped and barked about as much as we’re able. Can we come in and sleep now?”
The dogs are good at sleeping. They each have their own unique style. Buster, the younger one, awakens whenever I shift in my seat or break wind, dashes in the room and circles my chair a few times, then falls asleep at my feet.
Fluffy (~11 years old), OTOH, sleeps that sleep of the old dog who isn’t certain there’s any sleep allowed in the next world. She rouses herself only for dinner and to insure I haven’t raised my foot quite far enough to step over her without stumbling. I think she has a sophisticated sense of humor for a dog.
Made iced tea and one (4-demitasse equivalent) big, honkin’ espresso (mistake, but not until later). Finally (after ~8 months) figured out how best to operate the Mr. Coffee Milk foamer/steamer (overfill the @#$% reservoir!) Watched TV and enjoyed good, strong coffee.
Later, I went to the gun shop to hang out in the back. One of the guys has a license to own autofire weapons (pre-ban only) and was trying to convince our (only) English expatriate (former military) that there were better SMGs than the Sten. They took several examples of autofire weapons in the back and emptied numerous clips into the firing pit. I got to fire a 9mm M-16 carbine. 20 years in the military and the first time I get to shoot full auto is after I retired. Autofire is great fun, but with the price of 9mm ammo, it could be as expensive a habit as heroin.
I also got to fire a (properly licenced) silenced .22 caliber rifle. It made no more noise than a pellet gun, and had no more recoil than one either. I’m convinced. I want (don’t need, but want is okay ;)) a scope for my Ruger 10-22. I am surprised at how good my accuracy (decent even with glasses) improved when I could just put the crosshairs on the target and pull the trigger.
Later, I went home, fed the dogs and fixed dinner. Steak marinated in “Newman’s Own Olive Oil and Garlic” salad dressing. That stuff is GREAT! Watched TV and cruised the web s’more, then went to bed.
Got back up (wired on coffee from late morning indulgence). Stayed up, despairing of anything worthwhile to watch. Had a small brandy. If they give you coffee to sober you up when you’ve been drinking, it should work the other way around, right? It did for me. I went back to bed & got some sleep.
[ul]Sunday:[/ul]Woke up early, and groggy (not the brandy’s fault – if I get less than 8 hours sleep, I’m a slug). Showered, shaved. Went to get Son for Father’s Day visitation. It was raining.
Son “Would not eat breakfast” so he might be hungry when I got him to my place. Sure enough, he demolished a biscuit smothered in sausage gravy, drank several glasses of juice, and wanted some candy (“Later, Son”). We watched Teletubbies (recorded off PBS just this morning) and he fell asleep. Put him down for a nap.
Got online. As soon as I was logged in, he was awake from his nap, and ready to rock-and-roll. He also needed his diaper changed (I’ll be glad when he starts telling me he needs to go potty instead of telling me he just went). Unfortunately, it’s as wet as a swamp in the back yard, and he can’t go play there unless I strip him naked & bathe him when he’s finished. He gravitates to mud like… well, like something that is irresistably attracted to mud. If mud is present, nothing else of interest exists. If I had a change of clothing for him here, I think playing in mud would be a good idea (I used to have the same attraction for messy fun at that age). Maybe next time.
We watched “A Bug’s Life” and “Gay Purr-ee”. Son alternated between watching movie, playing with dogs, terrorizing dogs, and squirming in the seat next to me while I explained that it isn’t nice to pull Fluffy’s tail (Buster is quick, and retreats as soon as the play gets too rough for him. Fluffy is always surprised by unexpected developments). Halfway through “Gay Purr-ee”, Son nods off again. I put him to bed & start fixing dinner, pork chops, French Fries, and green, leafy stuff I ought to eat more of, and Son thinks is a glider or perhaps confettii.
Finish preparing dinner and wake Son. Son’s “sippy cup” has sprung a leak and his arm is wet. Well, it isn’t soaked, and it’ll dry out. Diaper needs changing (again – I expect it, but I do need to get more wipes). Dinner is a success, once I convince Son that he needs to eat something besides French fries.
Look at the clock. It’s time to take him back to his mother. It’s never enough time.
Happy Father’s Day.
~~Baloo