I have cut wood all day. The poarch is loaded. Manlyosity(yes it is a word, because I SAY SO) scale off the charts with chainsaws and boots and flannel and wool socks enough to kill any so-called male who has ever worn skinny jeans. What the hell? I never much wanted to look like the Disney Ichabod Crane. Geez.
I grew up cutting wood and wood heat and now it's a great way to save a few bucks, also I get to pile up tree bones outside my door and say things to Luvamoose like "I, your Father, by the sweat of my brow, the callous of my hands, and the sinew of my back have secured the ancient glow of warmth to cleave the dark winters' night." Yeah, the dog rolls her eyes and thinks I'm cornball, too. She does like it when I quote Shakespeare though, I think she digs iambic pentameter. And really, who doesn't?
So again I spent all day being a super provider and securer of stuff(read this as I spent all day demonstrating myself being a desireable male) and not a woman within miles. The gals closest to noticing me where over head in the commerical air traffic pattern. Maybe I need to cut wood closer to the road.
It's tuff to show women what you got these days. In the good old days if you disappeared in the morning and came home with a dead elk, hey, you were set. I can't show some gal how much I love my family or how important they are to me, or how I take care of Luvamoose the dog. I guess I could show her my timecard or my bank stuff that shows I work hard and have my head screwed on straight, but she'd prolly look at me funny. So what's left? My clothes, my body and whatever little bit of wit and charm I have at a given moment? That is so little of the whole of me.
But for today...I have secured some warmth and earned a shower and a nap. The dog's happy with me.
I grew up cutting wood and wood heat and now it's a great way to save a few bucks, also I get to pile up tree bones outside my door and say things to Luvamoose like "I, your Father, by the sweat of my brow, the callous of my hands, and the sinew of my back have secured the ancient glow of warmth to cleave the dark winters' night." Yeah, the dog rolls her eyes and thinks I'm cornball, too. She does like it when I quote Shakespeare though, I think she digs iambic pentameter. And really, who doesn't?
So again I spent all day being a super provider and securer of stuff(read this as I spent all day demonstrating myself being a desireable male) and not a woman within miles. The gals closest to noticing me where over head in the commerical air traffic pattern. Maybe I need to cut wood closer to the road.
It's tuff to show women what you got these days. In the good old days if you disappeared in the morning and came home with a dead elk, hey, you were set. I can't show some gal how much I love my family or how important they are to me, or how I take care of Luvamoose the dog. I guess I could show her my timecard or my bank stuff that shows I work hard and have my head screwed on straight, but she'd prolly look at me funny. So what's left? My clothes, my body and whatever little bit of wit and charm I have at a given moment? That is so little of the whole of me.
But for today...I have secured some warmth and earned a shower and a nap. The dog's happy with me.