Empty Walls

It’s bitter cold today. That cold where your only hope is to have enough layers on so that you’re only cold instead of really cold, where frost starts to form on your beard from your breath.

Things have wound down after our epic trip to Wisconsin for the holidays. Carter is back to sleeping a reasonable schedule. The house is clean and normal. All the gifts have been catalogued, sorted, returned or put away. (You’re asking yourself if the one you gave me got returned? You’ll never know.) Skitch has survived his dog bite. He’s doing pretty well. I think I need my pimped out van before we attempt a trip like that again. Even then, 10 days is a long time to be away.

I’ve been playing Guitar Queer-O 3. I ran through easy and most of medium and now I’m giving hard a go. Hard is hard, just like boring is boring. (Machinist jokes are dumb).

I’ve got to go to my tattoo artist to figure out what I want to get done on my left sleeve. I’ve got this tits idea that I’m not going to share right now. I don’t know how well it will execute, so I need to go in for a consult.

I’m easing back into work. Hopefully they’ve jumped my pipelayer and it’s warming up.