Oh no, look who’s a meathead or was that a beefhead?  #GrillSeason

Nothing says “Hang in there, Summer is almost here” like a fresh baseball uniform arriving in the Paulsen house…

…Well, that and me squinting into the setting Spring sun like a father figure Cyclops…

I prefer the new uniform visual, but anything that beckons warmer weather is okay with this man, who happens to be in search of his stowed away sunglasses.

Funny how during the office’s active shooter drill, no one wanted to hide with the chatty guy.  Strange thing is that by being all alone and not being in the habit of talking to myself, I survived too.  Winning, Chatty Isolation Style.

God made our furry friends in a silly way.  You see sometimes they just wander off.  They follow their nose and get lost.  Sadly, that’s just the way it goes.

No matter how long you search.  No matter how much you call their name.  Their bark no longer answers you.  There is no jump of joy, when you return home.

Tonight, it feels as if the Earth is crying.  Each raindrop reminds us of our friend outside alone in the dark.  Please, dear God, keep our Kirby safe tonight and bring him back home safely in the morn.

Keep warm, Kirby.  We will see you soon.

Postscript – Sleep well tonight, because this suburb’s “Most Wanted” was just brought in.  Thank you.  There is a house full of boys who just went to sleep with smiles.

Welcome back, dear friend.  You are loved so much and were oh so missed.  Now be a good dog and stay.

I had done it.  I made it to the end.  I had survived getting a new haircut.  Based on the amount they had chopped off, I could now start my life anew in the Witness Protection Program.  Just one last hurdle.  One last vexing question.  Gel or no gel?  That is the question.

Feeling extra confident.  Feeling a bit sassy.  I said “Yes,” as bold as a man getting a hair product could say.  Squirt, went a sizable blob onto the stylist’s hands (Yes, she was a stylist.  This was urgent.  No time to schedule a barber.  Back off, enough already).  Slather, slather, it was applied to my stubby locks.  Pointy, pointy, my hair was sculpted.  There, it looked nice.  Glancing down the brand of hair gel was named “Sexy” something or other.  Maybe my hair was not “sexy,” but it certainly was much improved.

The day proceeded as expected with most co-workers wondering who was the new guy in the office and my own kids not recognizing me.  That’s when I went to put my hand through my hair and was met with something unexpected, a solid mass.  Apparently the “sexy” brand hair gel had been replaced with rubber cement, because Ladies and Gentlemen, I now had mannequin hair.  Hair of Ken of “Barbie and Ken” plastic hair fame.  A helmet head.  Exoskeleton hair.  At least my hard head looked good and that my friend was a marked improvement.  Just make sure to wear gloves before touching the spikes.  You’ve been warned.

I just spent the entire night purchasing a new toilet.  Plus, I’m not even sure I purchased the right size toilet.  Extra plus, I’m pretty sure that I will be returning the wrong size toilet tomorrow night.  Great sadness, worthy of a potty adventure.  Sort of a wastewater Odyssey setting sail.

CINNAMON CHIP COOKIES

“As Tax Day approaches and I search through my wallet for spare change, I figured it was appropriate to serve up some leftover ingredients for ‘Cookie of the Week.’  This cookie takes full advantage of the half-a-bag of cinnamon chips sitting in my kitchen.  I admit that I had some trouble with these cookies.  Some would burn on the outside, but be underdone inside.  Others were golden outside, but far too crispy.  Very hard to get just right, just like my taxes.  They were however tasty, unlike attempts I have made to eat my TurbTax update CD.  Oh well, you live, you learn, you pay your taxes, you bake your cookies.  That’s life.”

1 cup Butter

3/4 cup Sugar

1 Egg

1 1/4 cups Flour

1 teaspoon Baking Powder

2 teaspoons Cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon Salt

3/4 cup Cinnamon Chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cream the butter and sugar.

Mix in the egg.

Mix in the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.

Stir in the cinnamon chips.

Drop rounded Tablespoons of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 10 minutes or until the edges are lightly browned.

Makes about 30 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Cinnamon Chip Sugar Cookies” recipe on piesandplots.net.

Gentlemen, looking for a compliment to use on your lovely wife this weekend? Well, look no further.  Feel free to utilize this perfectly corny and customizable line.  No, it won’t get a smile out of your spouse, but it will help you amuse yourself and after all, isn’t that the most important thing?  Enjoy.

As Charlene headed outside to exercise, I gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, “Don’t overheat, you’re hot already.”

Thank you. Thank you, very much.  I’ll be playing in the kitchen all weekend.

So, I was going to give this a clever rhyming title, where “Café ID” is pronounced kafā īdā, but that requires a lot of explanation and is it really worth it? Oh, you know the answer. It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. It was a bad idea, like how the alternate title was going to be “Grande Name,” intended to rhyme, as well. Now that’s a double bad idea. Sort of like a double shot of a bad idea. Ugh. A Barista Linguist’s nightmare. Double ugh.

Oh, where was I? Oh yeah, the topic of today’s post. Well, you see, I was at work and getting my morning coffee. As I placed the coffee pot back onto its warmer, I looked down and there was my work ID, hanging from its lanyard, dipped into my piping hot cup of morning coffee.

In an instant, I had transformed from Dave Paulsen, mild mannered public servant, into coffee flavored employee extraordinaire. A man with a hazelnut aroma and a burst of espresso energy. Watch out, world, this bureaucrat is coffee flavored!

Ah, a lovely Spring day.  The sun is out.  The porch is warm.  All seems right, but somehow everything is wrong.  The dog is perched high above the couch.  The blanket is a disheveled mess.  My 9-year-old son Sam’s socks are resting on a seat cushion.  Wait!  Everything is wrong, but somehow that’s just right.  Boom!  Mind blown.  #DeepThought

Yep, he’s a special kind of watchdog.