Showing posts with label married life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label married life. Show all posts

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Celebrate Good Times

At the risk of sounding ungrateful for my job, I really like vacations. Really. I don’t even have to go anywhere. Staying home is fine. I just like vacations from my job. And they are few and far between. Too few. And too far between. So, I eagerly count down the weeks and days until my next one.

And the next one is here. Yay! To make it even better, my wife is also on vacation this week. We thought we’d time off at the same time since it’s our anniversary. As of Tuesday, we will have been married thirty years.

Thirty years. Three decades. 1560 weeks. Or, 10,958 days. Any way you look at it, it is a long time. Not that I’m complaining. I like being married to her.

Thirty years. If we’d purchased a house on our wedding day, it would be paid off now. But we were a little busy—with the wedding and all—so we waited a while before buying a house. Then, we sold that one and bought another. All that means is we still have a ways to go before it is paid off. But that’s good, I suppose. More payments requires more going to work. And that means more vacations. See? Good, in a weird sort of way.

But back to my point, thirty years. A lot has changed in that amount of time. For instance, the language. Words, and a lot of them, have morphed into new meanings, thanks mostly to computers. And yes, I do have a few examples.

Thirty years ago, if we were searching for something, it meant we were physically digging through drawers, cabinets, or boxes and actually looking for said item. And speaking of searching, google was still just a part of a larger word; googolplex—the number represented by a 1 followed by 10100 zeroes—the largest (named) number.

And there’s more. A browser was someone who wandered aimlessly through a store, looking but probably not buying. Memory still referred to a function of the human brain that allowed us to recall facts or events (and sometimes to the strange properties of some metals to return to their previous shape). An icon was an object or picture that represented something esteemed as virtuous. These days an icon is a tiny picture on a screen that you click on to open a program or app, many of which, though I would not describe as bad necessarily, are not all that virtuous.

A desktop was, well, the top of a desk. A flat screen was a cloth screen used for projecting slides or home videos, which were 8mm film. And clouds were still those large puffy things in the sky that blocked the sunshine and sometimes produced rain—not a term that referred to storage. And there’s another word, storage. Thirty years ago, if someone asked you how much storage you had, they probably wanted to leave something in your garage. They were certainly not talking about devices like CD’s, SD cards, or thumbdrives, and definitely not talking about a cloud.

I could go on. I made a list of over one hundred terms that have changed meanings in the last three decades; mouse, tablet, cell, surf, text, web, you get the picture I think.

Thirty years ago, we didn’t have cell phones or iPads and the like. And although computers did exist in 1987, almost no one had one. Which wasn’t really a problem. There wasn’t much to do with a computer in those days since Al Gore hadn’t invented the Internet yet. Besides, most people, like my wife and I, would have never been able to afford a computer. Not with a minimum wage of 3.35/hour, which in case anyone is wondering, produced a net income of about $120 per week. Not much, but then we didn’t need a lot of money back then. A gallon of gas was about .60, a candy bar was .25, and you could get a large pizza from Dominos for 4 bucks. I can’t imagine trying to pay for a $600 iPhone! Wouldn’t have been much time, or money, left for vacation.

Oh, there’s also a new word that’s been coined in recent years—blog. And now that I’ve posted to this one it’s time to head for the airport to fly away. Hey, I never said I ALWAYS stay home for vacation! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Monday, May 15, 2017

Just Playing Games

Well, I survived Mother’s Day! That may not sound like a big accomplishment but that’s because you don’t know my wife. She got the bright idea that this year for Mother’s Day, instead of going out to a restaurant, like normal people, our family should meet at the park. That would have been okay but then after eating she thought we could play kickball and other games equally energy draining.

Apparently, she didn’t get the memo that we’re getting older. Not that we’re senior citizens yet but as our Mother’s Day outing proved, we’re too old to play kickball. I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad except I have this competitive nature and HAVE to put forth the effort because at the end of the game, win or lose, I have to know that I gave it all I had. And yesterday, I learned that “all I had” meant to the point of exhaustion—almost. I didn’t faint or anything. But I must admit, fainting just might have been a welcomed relief!

Funny, I don’t remember sports, especially something so benign as kickball, requiring that much energy when I was younger. Or making my legs and feet ache. Or causing such an out-of-breath experience. When I played sports in school, five minutes after the game was over, I was fine and ready to play again.

But times change. Now, a short little game of kickball is enough to make me cancel all the plans I had for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of the week!

To be honest though, the day was fun. The games were fun. And I had a good time. I think everyone else did too, because there was a lot of laughing and cheering going on. Of course, most of the other participants were not 50 years old either!

Yet, even as I was admitting to my wife that despite the worn out feeling I’d enjoyed the day, she (and a few others) were suggesting we all do this again. Again? Really? Really, they said.

They didn’t decide just when we’d get together again but might I suggest Mother’s Day? That way, I have a year to rest up. Although, I’m not too sure that’s enough time. ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Sunday, February 5, 2017

Fire Danger-High

Please forgive any typos in this post—my house is full of smoke and my eyes are a little watery as I type. My wife, the pyromaniac in the family is at it again, starting fires under the guise of cooking. I think she may be trying to get rid of all the stuff I hoard the quick and easy way.

I’ve written before about her proclivity of starting fires on the stove and in the oven. And nothing has changed. Her firebug tendency is an on-going and frequent occurrence. In fact, the most recent case (besides tonight) was only two days ago. She put some chicken in the oven and left for work. When the barbecue sauce bubbled over, things started heating up. Thankfully, my son was visiting and he took care of that one.

I should point out that she is an excellent cook. (Of course, this keeps me in a constant need of a diet)! And she has a knack for making ordinary food taste great! She just likes to add a little excitement—to keep us on our toes, I suppose. She’s even been known to start water on fire, not once, but twice!

I’m considering investing in a fire extinguisher, but that might be a waste of money. I mean, with her “skills” a fire extinguisher probably would offer no protection. I can see her setting that on fire as well!

Tonight’s episode, despite the heavy smoke and impending fire danger, ended well—with me scarfing down a savory, melt-in-your-mouth steak. As usual, the satisfying meal helped counter the anxiety of wondering if the house will burn down. So far, everything seems fine. Still, I plan to stay up a little longer—just in case. And hopefully, my wife doesn’t get up in the middle of the night for a midnight snack! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Sunday, April 17, 2016

Fire Starter

I think I’m going to have to quit my job—so I can stay home and keep an eye on my wife. It may be the only way to keep my house intact. I might be only half serious but that half is what concerns me.

Got a call from her the other day and she told me she’d started another fire. Now, we don’t have a fireplace or a wood stove. The fire she started was in the oven. Problem is, we don’t have a wood cook stove either—just a normal electric range. And this was an actual fire. Another problem is, this isn’t exactly a new phenomenon. Over the years, she’s had a habit of creating some of the most unusual fires; for instance, the time she caught a pot of water on fire. Yep, water.

It had been a while since her last episode and I thought perhaps her firebug tendencies had abated. But, no. The bug had apparently just been lying dormant. Until the other day.

The fire in the oven was the element. That’s not good. Elements are, by design, not supposed to burn. The makers of our stove obviously haven’t met my wife. This one was definitely burning, she said—with flames.

At first, I thought it was probably only grease or food that had collected on the element and then burned off. But no, the element burned up and no longer works. So, I spent a few minutes finding the model number and then ordered a new one. In a few days, the stove will be good as new—and all ready for my wife!

I shouldn’t really be surprised, at her preclevity for burning things I suppose. After all, her name is Brenda, which means “firebrand.” I always assumed that was figurative and referred to her demeanor or readiness to “discuss” things passionately. But obviously, with her it is quite literal!

To be fair, she didn’t burn anything else and she got the fire out but, well, I’d still feel better if I could find a way to make money from home. It may not be safe to leave her alone! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Monday, February 1, 2016

Maybe Next Time

So, last weekend on Sunday, my wife wanted me to take a drive down to Antelope in Central Oregon. She had a meeting for her job in the small town on Tuesday and not being familiar with the area, an area that is mostly void of civilization, she was a little apprehensive. She wanted me to show her where she would be going so she could find it on her own with no problems.

Well, I wasn’t feeling all that great and a two and half hour trip, one way, didn’t sound too appealing. Besides, there is only one main road down there so I didn’t think she would have any trouble. But then, I grew up around here so what I think is normal appears desolate and inhibiting to her. For those who may not know, Central Oregon looks a lot like Wyoming, and she’s used to Wisconsin where every square mile is populated.

On Tuesday morning, I received a series of texts. The first one said she’d gotten stuck in the mud on the wrong road far from her destination. Of course, phone service is very limited so I couldn’t call her. The next text said someone was supposed to be coming to help her. And eventually, I got one that said one of the officers from her office had rescued her.

Since the place she had traveled to had no phones or cell service, I had to wait until Wednesday night to find out the full story. Apparently, she had turned too soon, on a very muddy dirt road. She drove until she didn’t think the vehicle would make it and then tried to back out but had gotten high centered. And there the vehicle remained.

Thankfully, she didn’t panic. Grabbing a few items from the vehicle, she stuffed them into a small backpack and started walking. And walking. Turns out she walked about fifteen miles total. Eventually, she found a spot with cell service and was able to make a call. Not to me of course, since I had proved rather useless in this regard already!

Being that she works for the Sheriff’s Office, I guess I can understand why she would call them. Besides, a couple of the officers were also attending the meeting so they weren’t that far away. It would have taken me about three hours to get to her.

Several hours later, after a tow truck had hauled the vehicle out of the mud and to another town a few miles away, she made it to the meeting—without her suitcase. It was still in the vehicle. That meant no change of clothes, no amenities or, probably the worst of all, NO DIET COKE!

Now, I’ve only hit on the highlights, or lowlights in this case; the saga was much more drawn out than it seems here. And a little scary for my wife, who, although she was raised in the country, has decided she is now a full-fledged city slicker. Finally, Wednesday night, she made it home safe and sound. Needless to say, she wasn’t real happy with me.

Yes, I have apologized but that doesn’t really help much now. And I doubt she will be letting me forget this any time soon, if ever. So, next time my wife wants to take a drive, I think I will, um, I don’t know, take a drive? ~


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Monday, April 20, 2015

1985

Thirty years ago, this week, my wife and I had our first date! Don’t worry, I’ll spare you the details as I’m sure it was only exciting to us. Besides, I’m not entirely convinced I want to divulge any of those details!

Despite this being our grand moment, it was pretty much a non-event to the world. There was no fanfare, no streamers, and no marching band, although I do remember playing a couple of songs on the jukebox at the pizza parlor. But the reality was, no one cared that we were there. No one knew us, and so the fact that we were starting a life-long journey together didn’t seem to matter to them. No one knew that we’d stay together. No one knew we’d eventually get married. And certainly, no one knew that thirty years later I’d be writing about it. Not that it mattered really, we didn’t need anyone to validate our momentous occasion. We managed to make it fine on our own. And I for one, am quite happy about it, even thirty years later. No word on my wife’s opinion since I can’t speak for her. But I think she’s still at least okay with the idea.

Hey, I can pretend can’t I?

Actually, thirty years later, life is good. Even amid the hectic schedule we maintain, life is good. And it’s fun to look back on how it all came to be. And remember the days when we actually had time to spend together.

The other day, on one of those rare occasions of spending time together, we stopped at a pizza place and I noticed a young couple who were obviously on a date. I have no idea if it was their first date or not but they seemed oblivious to the rest of the goings-on so, I’m thinking it might have been. Now, maybe they won’t end up together. But then again, maybe they will. And maybe in thirty years they’ll be looking back and, just maybe, they’ll remember the guy in the black cowboy hat who noticed them. Or, not. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. It didn’t for my wife and I. But on second thought, perhaps people did notice us. Perhaps back then, we were the ones who were oblivious to the rest of the world. Like the couple I saw. Hard to say though, after all, that was thirty years ago.

And now, a personal note: Happy First-Date Anniversary, Brenda!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.


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Sunday, August 31, 2014

My First Wife

Yes, I know; everyone who knows me is frowning at the title of this post and scratching their head. Don’t worry; it’ll make sense—maybe.

One day at work, a few of the guys were sitting around discussing their first wives, some favorably, some not so favorably. The stories grew wilder by the minute and, like they were competing in some primal contest, each one tried to top the other.

Not to be outdone, I joined in the conversation. I told them all about my first wife, how pretty she was, how loving, caring, and supportive she was, and intelligent too—after all, she did marry me. (Some would insist this would be more of an argument against her intelligence). I bragged on how well she could cook—as evidenced by my ever-expanding stomach—and how she was a great mother to our children. I kept talking for a good five minutes or better, regaling them with the many wonders of my first wife.

It must have been something in my tone, or my eyes. Or, maybe I didn’t do a very good job of keeping the smirk off my face, but finally, one of the guys said, “How come I get the feeling you’re not really being honest with us?”

I said, “What do you mean? Everything I’ve told you about her is the absolute truth.” And it was.

Another one of them gave me a disbelieving frown. “I didn’t know you’d been married before.”

“I haven’t,” I said. “Didn’t know we were talking about second wives. I’m still married to the first one. After all I’ve told you about her, why would you think I’d want to change?”

They all laughed and shook their heads. And then, they changed the subject. Guess they didn’t want to talk about wives any more, be they first, second, or even third wives.

Oh, and as for the contest, I think I won!

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Current Read
Her Best Match
Tamie Dearen

SPOTLIGHT Author
Traci Sanders
When Darkness Breaks


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com

Monday, December 16, 2013

Murder - Part II

Last week’s blog about how I almost bought a house where there had been a triple homicide, got me to thinking. A dangerous activity, I know.

I realized that I have lived within a block or so of a lot of homicides. Several, in fact. And no, I didn’t commit them! More than half were suicides and the others were all solved, as far as I know.

As I started counting them up, I was a bit surprised. There have been nine. This seems like a rather inordinate amount for my short forty-six years. Even more so, when you consider that the first one didn’t happen until I was fifteen. So, that’s an average of about one every three and a half years.

It would seem that perhaps I have lived in a bad neighborhood! But, I’ve lived in numerous neighborhoods, in multiple states, during this time. Maybe it’s just that my neighbors don’t like me. Although, I can’t imagine that would drive them to suicide or murder. I may not be the perfect neighbor but I’m fairly sure I’m not that bad.

Then I hit on another theory. I’m a writer. I like to write crime stories. Could it be that my neighbors were all trying to help out by providing me with plots and scenarios to write about? Book fodder; is that what it was?

But then, I must admit, it seems highly unlikely all these people would go to such great lengths just to help a writer. However, it is certainly odd that I started writing around age fifteen - right when the first one occurred!

So, now I suppose I need to get busy immortalizing these individuals in book form. I’ll write the books, sell a few, other people can read and maybe enjoy them; everyone’s happy! As the old saying goes, if you look hard enough, you can find the good in anything!

Told you it could be dangerous when I start thinking!

Okay, just to clear things up. I don’t actually think the murders and suicides had anything to do with me. Nothing whatsoever. Most of the people didn’t even know me. They didn’t do it because of me, or for me. My presence had no bearing on anyone else’s fate. Of that, I’m sure.

Pretty sure.

But just in case, it may be wise not to move in beside me!


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders?ref=BruceABorders  #BruceABorders

Monday, December 9, 2013

House Of Murder

I’m not superstitious in the least. Things that might bother a lot of people don’t affect me. My wife is much the same. Which is why, we didn’t think twice about trying to purchase a house where multiple murders had taken place.

In short, here’s what happened there. (At least, as I heard it). The house was the home of an elderly couple. Late one night, three young males from out of state broke into the place. The three were on the run due to several criminal incidents in a nearby town and needed a place to hide. The home of the elderly couple apparently looked like a good choice. Evidently, they didn’t want anyone informing law enforcement of their whereabouts because they killed each of the occupants in the house, the couple, and a younger relative.

This happened several years before my wife and I arrived in the small town - a small town where everybody knew the story so there was no hiding it. Somehow, anyone who looked at the property was made aware of its history. As you can imagine, the bank was having great difficulty selling the house with such a stigma attached. For years, the house had remained empty. But we had no qualms over it. Obviously, we weren’t the ones killed so it didn’t really matter to us. What mattered to us was the price. And the price was more than right - less than half of its fair market value!

Unfortunately, we didn’t end up purchasing the property, but not because of the murders. The house would have needed some major remodeling, a couple of additions. This would have left us with almost no yard at all - and brought the cost up. So, we opted for another home a couple of blocks down the street.

Good thing too, I suppose. Recently, when one of our daughters found out about all of this, she was appalled, horrified at the thought that we would have even considered such a thing. The idea that she could’ve been living there; that she could have grown up there, was revolting to her.

I think, had she been raised in that house, and then found out the history, she might have seriously considered killing her parents!


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders?ref=BruceABorders  #BruceABorders

Monday, November 18, 2013

No More Clutter

My wife’s idea of cleaning up the clutter and mine are two vastly different things. For my wife, cleaning means to throw away everything in sight. For me, it’s more like rearrange things and hide stuff. The hiding aspect comes in pretty handy - if I want to keep anything! We’ve sort of learned to put up with each other’s different approach and make it work.

This past week, she went on another “cleaning” spree. I’ll admit, the kitchen does look different - clean, I guess. But I keep wondering what I’ll be looking for next week or next month. I’m sure I’ll be digging through everything, trying to find a certain something, and talking to myself, saying, “I know I had that, but where did I put it?”

Of course, I could ask my wife - but by then, she won’t remember. Out of sight, out of mind, you know. When my kids still lived at home we all knew if something was missing to check the trash.

In her defense, sometimes the items she chooses to toss are well past their expiration date and I just choose to ignore that fact. But sometimes there is nothing wrong at all - she simply doesn’t want them any longer. I suppose it comes down to this; I’m sentimental and she is not. So, I keep almost everything, she keep nearly nothing. After nearly thirty years, I am kind of used to it.

I’ve also learned to combat her discarding of perfectly good things that I want to keep. It’s easy, I just go through the trash. Which is what I did this past week, as soon as I noticed the kitchen. Found some things too. Things I refuse to throw away. And hid them. The end result? I still have my stuff and the kitchen is still clean! Like I said, we’ve learned to make it work!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders?ref=BruceABorders  #BruceABorders

Monday, September 23, 2013

My Wife Does Have A Point

Being married to a very talented and skilled seamstress, I get to enjoy tailor-made clothes that would normally cost a small fortune. She is usually busy making something and in between all the fancy dresses for weddings and such, all the intricately designed quilts, and all the other elaborate projects; from time to time, I’ll get a nice western-style shirt. Just one of the perks and it suits me quite well. She does have a knack for sewing.

As a seamstress, it is also completely fitting that my wife would have a proclivity for pins. Stick pins. Sharp, little objects that come in handy for a lot of different things - so she claims. Not only does she use them in her sewing, but for some reason she has an almost evil affinity for poking things with them, including me! From early on, I learned to stay clear of her when she is sewing! That can prove to be a difficult chore when it’s time to try something on. But, I know her and can usually tell when she’s about to stick it to me!

But not always. Particularly, when she manages to carry out her scheme while she’s nowhere around. And a maniacal scheme it was.

She’d just finished a shirt that I had requested, a black on black embroidered shirt, and I couldn’t wait to show it off. I proudly put it on and as usual, in a hurry, we left for church. The shirt fit perfectly but something wasn’t right I soon discovered. New material is sometimes stiff and can scratch I knew, but this one seemed to be scratching a little more than normal. In fact, it almost felt like something was stabbing me in the stomach. I kept trying to change the position of the shirt - only to have the irritating pricking sensation change too.

Finally, after a couple of hours or so, I said something to her and she checked to see what the problem was. And found it - a pin! It had been poking me the whole time. (My stomach looked like I was a diabetic or something with little tiny red dots all over it). Laughing - a little too much - my wife removed the offending pin. Ah!

No, I really don’t think she did it on purpose. However, she got entirely too much amusement out of the whole deal. All at my expense! And of course, I had to confiscate the pin for the ride home - you just can’t trust the woman with a pin in her hand!

On second thought, I’m not sure I’m getting such a good deal on the clothing after all. It might be better to just pay the small fortune for my tailor-made shirts.

To be fair, it was just a one-time thing. But, that might be because these days, I know to check my clothes thoroughly before putting them on. With a magnet!

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders?ref=BruceABorders  #BruceABorders

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Temporary Bachelor

Home alone. My wife is off gallivanting around the country on vacation. (Actually, she is visiting her family). But, I stayed behind. And since my kids have all moved away, it’s just me - and the dogs.

Living alone isn’t really a problem. I can manage to take care of myself, and the dogs. In fact, I seem to function quite well on my own. But I do tend to become a little irritable without my wife around. The dogs are not impressed.

When my wife and I first got married and she would leave for a week or two, I dealt with my frustration by firing people at my job. (Only if they deserved it, of course)! I don’t have a lot of patience to begin with - add to that the annoyance of my wife being away and it doesn’t bode well for employees who do not listen or who won’t do their job. As the manager of a fast food restaurant, with several employees, I usually had an abundance of opportunities to exercise my self-designed “therapy.”

These days, I’m not the boss - probably a good thing - so; I have to deal with my frustration in a different manner. The method of choice is to stay busy working. Again, the dogs are not impressed. In the week I’ve been home alone, I’ve worked on a broken light fixture in the kitchen, replaced two leaking faucets, repaired the fence, fixed the shed door, did some maintenance on my pickup, and cleaned up the house (a little). And, I still have more to do.

This new approach to dealing with the absence of my wife seems to be rather productive! Much more so than firing my crew - and then having to run the store by myself! I’m hoping when my wife returns she’ll be happy with everything I’ve accomplished. The thing that worries me is that she’ll be so pleased she’ll decide to leave more often. That wouldn’t be good - for me, or the dogs.

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Over My Dead Body, The Journey, and Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in print at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 See Bruce’s Smashwords Profile at www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BruceABorders #MiscarriageOfJustice #BruceABorders