TGIF

Friday turned out to be a beautiful day. I had to go to Building 73 during the afternoon and my car's outdoor temperature gauge said it was 80 degrees!

I checked on the four people that moved today and they were all happy, other than two of them that have electrical outlets that weren't working. Not really my problem, but I hunted down Michelle (who looked cute in a denim miniskirt outfit) and let her know she had one, lol!

I spent some time with the manager, making sure he was satisfied with IT's performance. Normally as a PM, I don't do a lot of "public relations," I just get the damn project done. But this particular manager seems to need a lot of "face time" and "hand-holding" so I do what I gotta do...

Finally, it was Friday night and we are definitely "banging the drum!" I got home, checked the mail, treated the cats and changed my shoes. Then I went up in the attic (stifling hot) and found a shoe box.

Downstairs, I got a suitable piece of thick plastic and lined the shoe box. Then I went outside to the St. Francis garden and dug out a "shoe box-sized" clump of the Jack-in-the-pulpits for my brother Carl. He asked for some in a Photograph Comment, if you remember. I tried to warn him how invasive they are (they spread like wildfire) but will take them to him tomorrow.

Back inside, it was already 7:00 PM. Now, I wanted to "try" and make a rhubarb pie for my Mom for Mother's Day (rhubarb being one of the "spring" food enjoyments back on the farm when I was a lad). But, since it's late and I don't (normally) bake, I decided to defer this to tomorrow morning.

I checked the fridge for leftovers (I've been eating them all week) and found all I have left is a few brats and some hot dogs. The chicken's gone, the catfish is gone and the coleslaw is gone. Now the Longhorns are gone and the drovers are gone. The Comanche are gone and the outlaws are gone; Geronimo's gone and Sam Bass is gone; and the lion is gone and the red wolf is gone...

Oh, wait a minute, I seem to have got stuck between song lyrics and reality (hey, with me, it happens - I'm still waiting for Mick Jagger and those Puerto Rico girls that are just dying to meet me).

Anyway, I heated up the last brats and ate them (sans buns) with Dijon mustard.

I watched a little TV, but turned in early. I'm not sure why (I believe it speaks to my earlier decision to make the pie tomorrow morning) but I am just damn, dead-beat tired.