The A to Z mini challenge; or, at least the pooch enjoyed it today

The cryptic (if you missed yesterday) second half of that title references both the horrible day at work yesterday and the disaster that was today- which while not being as mistake filled or tension causing, certainly screwed the pooch just as thoroughly.  In short, I use, as you know, a computer-run fabric pattern cutter.  As such, the machine has a plastic belt which due to the cutting must be changed once in a while.  With a hump about six inches from the one side approximately 4 inches high and crunchy, today was that day.  Our maintenance guy can remove the belt, but needs the help of a pair of experts from corporate to fully attach the new one.  So he called them yesterday, saying that because A)we had to be down the least time possible, and B) the company big shot doesn't want him collecting OT (which, since he gets there 1/2 hr early, begins at 2 PM), they should call him when they were at the state line- about 2 hours out- and he would begin the process.  The call came about 10:45, and he and I had the old one off and the new one ready before noon.

The experts had not yet arrived at 2:30 when I left.

Where were they?  Well, I am told that they "were in Ft Wayne" when I left.  Though no one actually named what turned a two-hour straight-through drive into a 4-hr downtime for me, we have a very strong suspicion:

Which leaves the girls (not those girls, the sewers) with absolutely nothing to sew.  As the machine is "going to be ready to go" when I arrive tomorrow, and it will take me about 1/2 hour to get two covers cut, perhaps calisthenics will help the girls wake up.


And now, I have finally come to that day where I get a toe wet in the A to Z blogging challenge.  Now, the rules are to do alphabetical blog bits each day in the month of April, and today, several of my friends are on day letter N.  So today I thought I'd catch up with a series of A to Z "mini bits" for your viewing pleasure.  Right after I go feed the dog.




A is for America, one nation under God, with Liberty and Justice for all... Except that now that the in thing is to get out from under God, we are hardly one nation, and liberty has been replaced with "tolerance" and justice with political correctness.  The prophets prophesy falsely, And the priests rule on their own authority; And My people love it so! But what will you do at the end of it? (Jer 5:31)

B is for Boofus.  Scrappy Boofus, who has now consumed his dinner and needs to go out.

C is for Christopher, the "C" in "CW".  A name born from the legend of St. Christopher, a giant of a man who made a living ferrying travelers across a river on his shoulders. Then one day the Christ Child came, and by the time the giant crossed the river the weight of the world was on his back.  Thus his new name was Christopher, "Christ-bearer".  All I can say is the river must have had a very rocky bottom.  And yes, I love the name.

D is for dog, who has taken care of his after dinner "mints" and is now patiently waiting for me to eat MY dinner.  I have a brother in law whose skin crawls at the mere thought of his dog begging.  I think he needs to stop shaving his head and let his hair grow back.  Honestly, what Scrappy saves us in labor by licking plates pays his way (but don't tell him I said that...).


E is for Education.  My daughter was released from high school sans diploma, as her mother was.  She (the mom)  told my son the other night that he shouldn't be so high and mighty because "you really don't need a diploma".  That is why she's probably had three jobs lasting approximately 3 years total in the last, oh, 25 years, and lives off with a guy who can't really stand her.

That sixth grade ejukatshun will come in handy...

F is for foxes.  They haven't been seen yet this spring, but are certainly in evidence.  Last Saturday I spied under the bush at our neighbor's front door a patch of skin, about 6X6, from the back of what I assumed was a rabbit.  The next morning, just over the rise from Ground Hog Road, we found the rest of the remains.  KC complained about the stench.  With a good breeze blowing, Scrappy and I wisely did not observe it from one yard straight downwind.  (BTW, KC did graduate.)

G is for God.  I solicited prayers for my patience today at work, and His peace kept me merely amused and not upset at the total mess tomorrow was becoming before my eyes.

H is for Harry Baals Drive.

Yesterday, I had to pick up my new safety prescription glasses that my company demands/foots the bill for (AKA leave the wallet in your pocket, sir).  I was talking to Laurie and missed that I was in a turn only lane on Parnell.  I thought, "What will be my best way back to where I'm going?"  Suddenly I found myself at Harry Baals Drive (named after a Ft Wayne mayor, look it up), and I exclaimed, "THAT'S  the road I need!"  HBD cuts through Johnny Appleseed Park and comes out, as you can see, on Coliseum just down from the turn I needed.  While Scrappy and I have walked HBD many times, this was the first time I drove on it.  (BTW I was at the other end and thus turned left.)


I is for idiots, without which there could be no Martin World News.  Like the scientists in this article whose gallant research has found what any dope smoking idiot (or former dope smoking idiot, in this case) could have told them...

...researchers claiming that marijuana consumption might have a profound impact on the parts of the brain that process decision-making, emotional assessment, addiction and the processing of rewards.

Can I give you experiential evidence?  One night, a friend and I were under the smoky embrace when a couple other friends in similar shape decided to interrupt our TV watching by throwing a flare (yes, a genuine roadside flare) against my front window (yes, glass window.).  So off we charged to find the culprits.  I came around a lilac bush and found culprit number one, hunched over hiding.  I looked at him, he looked at me- for what had to have been at least five seconds.  He finally jumped up and said, "Boo!"

I jumped and said, "AAAAAH!"

Moral of the story: I don't need study co-author Dr. Hans Breiter,  a psychiatrist mathematician at Northwestern University, to tell me something I've known for 35 years.

J is for Just think of something.  I was having a time trying to come up with a J topic.  So I googled "J" and the first thing that came up was Justin Bieber.  Not. Gonna. Happen.


K is for knee.  Remember that weird experience I had with my right knee a while back?  Well, the left one got it just as I was getting in the car to go home today- a fact I had forgotten until I exited said vehicle.  After an hours nap- and that after reading all your fine blogs-  it isn't painful per se, but certainly not very supportive.  Thankfully today wasn't a "walking the dog" stress level.

Yeah? Well, what about me?  What about MY stress?

L is for Laurie.  (Waves and smiles.)  I know you might be having a crappy (excuse the inside joke) night tonight, but I'm thinking about you, and I hope it went fast.

M is for Martin, the "M" in... well, Martin.  The name comes from, like many old surnames, the work done by the progenitor of the line.  In this case, a martin was the guy who put the metal hoops on barrels.  With this family, they most assuredly were beer barrels.  Or wine.  We are French.  (Well, Dad's dad's side, the Martins, were French, as were Mom's dad's side, the Girardots.  The matriarchal side of each, though, were German (Kline on Dad's, Weilman on Mom's).  So it's probably fifty-fifty.

Annnnnnd...

N is for never gonna do this with full blog posts.  So I hope you all enjoy this, and tune in on day "Z" for the second half!