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Yabba Dabba Doing. Almost Yabba Dabba Done. - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Yabba Dabba Doing. Almost Yabba Dabba Done.

I used to come home at night from my job, I had a job flippin' dino burgers
I see the quarry, it'd be just closing down by then
Little bird up on the pole, he's screaming out how the working day's over
And I'd see them dinosaurs, they'd be herding out through the gates
And the workers, they'd be giving them cars a running start with their fat little feet
Now, so, so one night I'm crossing the alley and I see this one worker coming home to his little stone hut
And I seen the lady's lunch pail by the door, and he calls out to his wife, "hey Wilma! I'm home, honey"

That's from the Bruce Springstone intro to the "Meet the Flintstones" theme song- the one classic I wish the real Bruce had done when I saw him here over the winter.  It comes to mind because for the past two days, Emily and I have shared an office.  Yesterday, I got her in here bright and early, and largely let her do her New Thing while I did my Old Same Olds.  When I took her home at the end of the day, she seemed happy with how she'd done and with how the other people in the office were doing with her and her work.  By the time I got home, it had been a full twelve-hour day, but I got a decent bike ride in before hitting the hay.

This morning, I had an almost-as-early rise but had to be in court in Buffalo, so she took their car, dropped Cameron off for the day, and then met the other attorney I work with here at a networking meeting he goes to every week.  She got to meet a bunch of other professionals before the workday even began.  She was on her way home when I finally got here after court, a client appointment and some other errands, but seemed to have had a good day again.

Tonight, the friends I met for the Springsteen concert will be joining me downtown for the Red Wings game honoring their longtime organist.  The bobbleheads are in limited supply so I'm planning to get there early enough to be sure of a swag snag.  Dinner might wind up being one of Rochester's dreaded garbage plates- it's been ages since I've had one:

Okay, maybe just a hot dog or something;)

I'll stay with the kids tonight and tomorrow will be the last lunch-pail day with the kid. She'll get in on her own Thursday and Friday while I'm away.  Hopefully their cats won't stick me out the window and make me pound on their door:

3 comments or Leave a comment
plantmom From: plantmom Date: August 3rd, 2016 01:11 am (UTC) (Link)
Dontcha just love the milk bottle on the doorstep? Also, has no one ever noticed that Fred could easily, in my opinion, fit through (an always open - this was before glass was invented, yo) window? Well, even if it meant taking the damn bearskin suit off.
Hanging in here without you, although I miss you.
yesididit2 From: yesididit2 Date: August 4th, 2016 12:25 am (UTC) (Link)
i dont think a garbage plate sounds very appetizing (i googled it).
captainsblog From: captainsblog Date: August 4th, 2016 12:27 am (UTC) (Link)
I didn't either by the time one showed up in the row behind me. Prime rib sammich from the Red Osier (singlehandedly capable of raising your cholesterol over 100 points) was more than sufficient.
3 comments or Leave a comment