There I was, end of the workday, chatting with my friends Lisa and Alex.

Inevitably, the conversation reached the point, where a transition seemed appropriate. Offering a pivot in the conversation, I looked at Lisa and said, “Any who.” “Any who,” an appropriate bridge to be offered up by a folksy fella like me.

Turning to Alex, I noticed a shocked look on his face. “What?,” I asked in confusion. “Did you just say, ‘I hate you?,'” he asked with mouth agape.

Yes, a mumbled folksy phrase turned me from a charmingly awkward storyteller into a world class jerk.

Any who, please allow me to mumble my defense.

So you indulged in a bit of gluttony over the Fourth. So you return home and are informed by your wife that you should have a week’s worth of detox smoothies, as a punishment.

Well, if you’ve been bad, I’m sorry. This smoothie might not detox you, but it will sure make you feel bad about your sins.

One peeled cucumber

A bit of finely chopped parsley

About a teaspoon of peeled and chopped ginger

Juice of 1/2 lemon

1/2 cup of water

3 Tablespoons of coconut water

Put it all in a blender and chop it up.

Try to enjoy and atone for your sins.

I had had it. That dead tree in our backyard had to go.

Armed with a chainsaw, I attacked my Great White Whale. Sawdust flew. Woodchips fell under foot. Branches fell and a tree toppled.

Loading sticks and branches into my car, I wiped the sweat off my brow and smiled. I knew it. I had made it. I was now a suburban lumberjack.

So delicate

French

Gone in two bites

A shortcoming not to be ignored

Perhaps they are waiting for a cup of coffee or a lovely cheese tray. Well in that case, socks, welcome to the end table.

Can’t be too hot. Can’t be too cold.

Not too soon after a rain. Not too much before.

Can’t be too sunny. Can’t be too humid.

Deck sealant. The home repair procrastination enabler.

Six kids. Post-game, I estimated that as Third Base Coach, I had asked six kids to slide. Guess how many slid? Zero. Zilch. Nada. At least twice, they were tagged out, while they would have been safe under the tag, if they had slid.

Humph, grumpy old coach.

I asked the final out why he didn’t slid. “He (the Third Baseman) was in front of the base.”

Next up, sliding practice and a lesson in how to sharpen your spikes.

My 10-year-old Ben has taken the helm for this evening’s Guest Post.  Enjoy!

“A few days ago, I saw it, while I was walking out of a parking lot.  Was it?  No, it couldn’t be.  The same exact 2006 Ford Freestyle that was towed away from our home just one week ago.

Welp, turns out that it was a different Freestyle.  All I know is that they should start car shopping, because they only have about two weeks left.”

You can be just a regular old bird singing from any random branch or you can be the bird who is putting himself out there and singing from the tippy top branch. Be that bird.