The third little pig wore mukluks . . . paying homage to the Mayan Empire.

Well, in an effort to make this an accurate account of our daily life I decided it was time to rectify the calendar.  After a few hurried calculations,  it would appear that those times without internet connectivity skewed my dates a bit.  We now find ourselves on day 243 and a solid half of a month of activity seems to be MIA.  Truth be told, I feel it a fair accomplishment.  I wouldn’t have guessed at the start that this would have lasted for much longer than a week.  Further, the fact that there are a few that have not been insulted or alienated to the point of no longer following along is more amazing still.  If you are still out there hammering away the days with ole Jack Butler, your patronage is much appreciated.  At this point I could have churned out a solid college thesis or written the next great American novel.  I have done neither but given myself carpel tunnel syndrome and perhaps given my children something to remember me by.  I have meticulously kept this journal in soft copy on my laptop and have calculated the following interesting statistics.  In single spaced 10 point Arial font I have churned out roughly 52 8 ½ x 11 pages and when converted into a traditional 6x9 soft back that equates to roughly 331 pages so far.  Take that J.K. Rawlings.  I could break that into a word count, but it dizzies the mind to even think in such terms.  No, I will go ahead and do so.  My research indicates that the average first time novel ranges between 70,000 and 100,000 words.  Word says I am at 146,660.  I suppose I will continue to rattle away over the remaining days of our time here in hopes that perhaps someday it will be in some way noteworthy and I can sell it to some sucker in an effort to fund my children’s college education.  Lofty dream I know, but without some concrete goal in mind I feel like this is becoming a complete waste of time.  The odds of actually getting a book published is something akin to the odds of being struck by lightning.  It does happen on occasion, but it is rare.  To that end, if anyone out there knows a good publisher let me know and I will disgrace their desk with a hard copy of this turd.  While I await a response I will stand outside in a thunderstorm with a golf club in hand and see which is the more likely.

Having dispensed with the housekeeping as you know I like to call it, let’s get on with the show.  Like the smartest of the three little pigs, I live in a house made of stone.  The big bad wolf, nor any other force of nature is likely to make her crumble in the foreseeable future.  There is one thing that the third little pig failed to mention . . . It’s freaking COLD in here.  We seem to be fairly ensconced into fall type weather and the thermometer currently seems to prefer a day time high of around 15 degrees or so.  That is roughly 60 degrees Fahrenheit for those that don’t want to do the math.  We have been averaging in the 60s or so for about a week now, and even at this relatively mild daytime temperature, the house gets somewhat refrigerated when the overnight low creeps down to the 37 degree mark.  Radiant heat seems to do little to stave off but the harshest of the chill and we are left puttering about the house like Eskimos.  The key to a comfortable life is a good scarf.  I would wager one could run around naked in the cold of night so long as the neck was covered.  It is much more than fashion for folks here.  It is an essential piece of wardrobe that makes a profound difference on one’s comfort level.  The other day the wife remarked that she in fact witnessed a woman jogging while wearing a scarf.  Wearing traditional fitness attire from head to toe except that the outfit was set off by a jaunty scarf was enough to cause my wife a bit of a chuckle.  This she laughs at, but none of my jokes make it through.  What am I doing wrong?   Anyway, I have determined that I will purchase as many scarfs as I can afford and wear them all at once like the dance of the seven veils.  As the day warms up, I will simply peel one away and bat my eyes.  Brilliant!

And finally, the beginning of the weekend is a reminder that once again our little adventure is paying a bit of a toll.  Today marks the beginning of a marriage.  Unable to make my step-sister’s ceremony brings with it a bit of sadness as we truly wish her a wonderful life with her husband and would have liked to have been present to witness this joyous event.  That being said, I am sure she will forgive our absence as so many in our lives have forgiven it over the past 9 months or so.  I sent her a simple message of congratulations and shared a few words from the great Robert Frost.  Not being able to remember it all by heart, I ran to the Web to find the text I was looking for.  In doing so, I became a bit sidetracked as can often be the case in my life.  In my reading, I ran across another literary masterpiece on marriage that I would like to share with you now.  This sentiment is the reason my wife and I have lasted as we have and I trust my own bride feels the same about me as I feel about her.  We owe each other a lot.  I wish this new marriage the kind of joy we have created in our 11 years together.  Cheers.  R.

My debt to you, Beloved

Is one I cannot pay

In any coin of any realm

On any reckoning day;

For where is he shall figure

The debt, when all is said,

To one who makes you dream again

When all the dreams were dead?

Or where is the appraiser

Who shall the claim compute,

Of one who makes you sing again

When all the songs were mute?

-      Jesse Rittenhouse