So we picked all the t’maters (that’s from 4 plants).
So we picked all the t’maters (that’s from 4 plants).
This is amazing. A baby dancing to BeyoncĂ©’s “Single ladies (Put a ring on it)”.
(Via Tyler.)
There are a few things you have to do in order to write The Greatest September Post Ever. I’ll break it down for you:
First — I’m going to steal my post style from my new offline friend Connor. Leah and I are starting a rock band with Connor and his soon-to-be wife Caitlin. Obviously, I am a drummer. Connor, with years of smoking under his belt, is the perfect singer. Leah and Caitlin are rocking on their axes—that’s what guitarists call their guitars, right? I’m too self-important to think about guitarists. Beatles Rockband we are ready for you!
Second — Gardening took over our lives this summer. Gardening in Calgary can’t be done. Oh yah? Can’t be done?
BOOM! From my backyard. SUCK ON THAT TABER. I grew that from seed. In Calgary. Corn. HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW!? (That’s rhetorical.)
Third — I really miss JD. Elly got stuck in the tree last weekend and I had to get the ladder to fetch her out. It reminded me of JD. And I hate twist ties now. JD used to love twist ties. He wouldn’t play with anything else. There’s an awful feeling knowing that he is gone when I can remember everything about him so clearly. The pain really hasn’t gone away.
Fourth — Maybe in connection with the third part, I’ve taken to listening to Dallas Green a lot. Like daily. His voice is so perfect.
Fifth — You always knew I was a storyteller, but now you are sure. It’s in the cards (or the cookie).
Sixth — We be jammin’. And I read a really interesting article on Good today. Nothing like having a few friends over, dealing with several boiling items and drinking. It’s good, safe fun for the family. Especially small children. Also, I’m available for babysitting.
Seven — I have a new job. The rumors are true. I am the new Web Editor of WestJet’s up! magazine. Let me answer your questions. I don’t work for WestJet directly. I work for RedPoint Media. I don’t get free flights. I don’t even get cheap flights. But I do get to work for an awesome company. I mean, even I am shocked at how much fun it is there. It’s been great so far. Now all I have to do is prove myself. And it’s okay to say that the site isn’t great right now. But it’s coming along. It’s a diamond in need of A LOT of polishing. Good thing I’m a dragon.
Eight — Three years later and she’s still beautiful. Did I get lucky or what? Single guys, I have to tell you something. Go and find out where the sociologists hang out. They are all gorgeous. It’s like that time in Seinfeld when George gets invited into the inner circle of models. Meet sociologists. You’ll thank me later.
Ninth — That’s about all I got. I hope you enjoyed The Greatest September Post Ever.
Brendan is literally dying without new Bailing Bucket blog posts. And since we no longer work together he can’t even get a small fix. That’s right, I have a new job. I fishtanked Brendan, again. Really, this is a teaser post. This is a post about a post I am going to make. I am going to make the biggest, most awesome September post that has ever existed on this blog. It’s going to cover everything you ever needed to know about life and gardening and mostly me. Oh, we had a splendid garden this summer. You won’t believe what I grew (Leah grew, but I inspired). This post is coming to you some time this week. I think. I have frisbee tonight. Lawn bowling tomorrow. Who can say. All I know is that I am popular and you all need me. And I get off on being withholding.
Also, there are big changes coming. Well, I don’t want to say big. But there are changes coming. Lots to look forward to. So prepare yourself, mortals. For your god will return to you, but you do not know the hour upon which I return. And if you are thinking—is he a prophet for himself? The answer is—yes, I am a prophet for myself. It’s because I’m THAT important. Also, I am Maverick in Top Gun.
PS: This blog is now mobile friendly thanks to the WPtouch plugin and the guys at Brave New Code.