Now, what kind of story might we find? Well, aside from my own disgruntlement with aging poorly and missing my one chance to see the dudes together since last August.
He's somewhere in a basement or garage. What that is beside the chair, I have no clue. If you do, please enlighten me.
The finger. He's gonna grow old with that chipped bone.
I have a cracked spot on my right nose bone from where he spun his head and knocked my glasses off. He was hardly one at the time. Yeah, I handed him to the maternal unit then.
Elbow has one also from taking a fall at a Tae Keon Do class. I tripped over my own big feet.
What we have here is evidence of a Perceiver in the Myers-Briggs framework, though it's neat compared to my desk at work, much less the pig sty in which I live. Apparently, this is heriditary. Both dudes live in stacks of stuff.
Well, we might need to think that through. My parents were not stackers. My great aunt and uncle were. My grandparents were not.
My stepdad is a stacker. We'll let the I/O psychs chew on that one a bit longer.
I'm not on speaking terms with the much of the rest of the family, which makes the dissection of their pathetic personalities problematic. They have a problem with hearing truths.
Someone's arm. They're playing paintball, and that leaves me wondering where the spatters of color are.
What's interesting is when Nephew Mark plays with them. Mark leaves the field untouched, but very sweaty. The other guys, especially those opposing Mark's team, are eat up with splatters.
Yes, Mark's been through Ranger training, and he's currently deployed. We won't say where. Mark is an interesting man, secure enough in his own sexuality to not be frightened by mine.
He is an excellent conversationalist, very likely a good man in a fight, and wizened beyond his few years. I suppose fire fights and helicopter crashes can heighten a man's perspective on what's important.
I should fess up here. I was about to give #1 Son grief for not sending all five pics. Of course, my own stupidity is at fault. He sent the fifth; I just did not save it.
Well, I did have four conversations going on then.
They appear to have eaten something. We'll forego the dissection of just what that food was. Tum is still in rebellion.
-- text tapped from a virtual keyboard. You found misspellings? Imagine that. Get over it.