My old buddy from last summer is working with me again, but this time on his family’s wraparound Victorian style porch. Short commute for me, shorter for him. Though the tool belt I bought him last year fits without adjustment, he\u00c3\u00ads bigger by fifteen pounds. <\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acHey, Chris, you know those beams we struggled with last year at Applewood?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acYeah. They would be so much easier to pick up this year.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acNo they wouldn\u00c3\u00adt. We would have the same struggle.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acI\u00c3\u00adm stronger this year.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acAnd I\u00c3\u00adm weaker. We\u00c3\u00add cancel each other out.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
Chris is still playing baseball and besides working with me he works two days a week at Drumlin Farms. If you call driving a Ford F350 Diesel truck work. Chris doesn\u00c3\u00adt. <\/p>\n
And, I might add, he sits comfortably behind that wheel.<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acUPS dropped something off at your side door.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acWhat size package was it?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acSmall, like a loaf of bread someone stepped on.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acMust be my underwear.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acYour underwear?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acSilk.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acSilk underwear?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
They cost more but they last longer.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acOh, pretty boy.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acI\u00c3\u00adm not a pretty boy.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acSilk underwear?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acHow long does your underwear last?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n
Thinking about what my underwear looks like when I finally retire them made me want to drop the subject real fast.<\/p>\n
\u00c3\u00acYou win, but I get a picture <\/a> for the blog.\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n Matthew Miller wasn’t the only Matthew <\/a> celebrating his birthday yesterday.<\/p>\n Friday night we fled Willow Books after unknowingly walking into \u00c3\u00acHarry Potter Night,\u00c3\u00ae and as I slowed to turn into our driveway, a dark green Ford Taurus in the opposite lane stopped, almost blocking my turn. A thin young woman with thick rimmed black glasses and hair pulled into a tight bun shouted from her window, \u00c3\u00acDo you know where Fort Devens is?\u00c3\u00ae Not wanting to block traffic, I turned into my driveway, and then not wanting to get run over, I walked back to her passenger side window and waited for her to roll it down. On the seat I could see her camo uniform. Iraq bound?<\/p>\n She repeated the question and though I\u00c3\u00adve driven by the exit on route 2 a zillion times I wanted to make sure she got to Devens without anymore trouble. <\/p>\n \u00c3\u00acIt’s real easy but I\u00c3\u00adm tired and I can\u00c3\u00adt think of exactly how to get there. Look, this is my house and I\u00c3\u00adll go in and Google you a map. Why don\u00c3\u00adt you pull into my driveway?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n She turned her head and looked back out the windshield, then turned back at me and said in a soft voice, \u00c3\u00acDo you mind if I stay here?\u00c3\u00ae<\/p>\n Follow The Uranium <\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My old buddy from last summer is working with me again, but this time on his family’s wraparound Victorian style porch. Short commute for me, shorter for him. Though the tool belt I bought him last year fits without adjustment, … Continue reading
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