Call Me Up in Dreamland

While flopping around in bed in the middle of the night last night, I decided I wanted to have Armadillo Willys for dinner tonight.  So that’s what we’ll be doing.  When the kids were home, it was a staple Saturday night takeout option, but since the wife and I have pretty much forsworn red meat, we’ve not been there for quite some time. Tonight, I’ll be getting the Texas style ribs to temporarily crank up my cholesterol numbers.

I’ve just gotten back from the posh club and my solid 15 minutes of swimming has me invigorated.  I was there a few days ago and there was a twenty something kid in a wetsuit whereas the aged yet muy macho DJ was bare-chested as usual. Perhaps the kid was getting acclimated to the suit for an upcoming scuba trip.  Or maybe he was just a Gen Z wuss.  We’ll never know.

I was a little pissed earlier this week.  It looks like my blog’s automatic email feature did not work on my Wednesday post, thus denying ten good people access to my ample wit. For this I apologize.  I hope this one goes out.

In domestic news, I have my wife all lined up for Medicare. I just paid her last exorbitant premium and we now will both be feeding at the gubmint trough.  I spent part of yesterday morning getting autopay set up for her drug plan.  I conferenced her on at work with the agent to get her permission.  She made clear to me that she had three minutes for me.  We got her permission and the call with the agent promptly dropped.  I called back and the new dude wanted me to get my wife on the horn again, which was not going to happen under any circumstances.  Fortunately, he let me slide and I got the matter addressed.  

The numbers and the Belgian came by for dinner Thursday night.  I fired up a couple beer can chickens.  Those savages picked that first bird clean, but we had half of the second for dinner last night and another half for Sunday or Monday.  #1 brought a few barrel-aged Manhattans and #2 a fine Zin. The Belgian brought his bike, and I must say he looked quite fetching in his cycling outfit.  The Exec was not there as he’s up in Sonoma, but since I made his day with consecutive mentions on my last two posts, I’m continuing the trend.

Looking over my blog notes, I see that there’s been a couple recent disappointing announcements.  First, Ozzy Osbourne is retiring from touring due to declining health.  And Dr. Phil’s show is going off the air after 21 seasons.  That’s a double whammy if ever I saw one. And this just in.  Russell Wilson is helping Ciara accept her body.  What a guy! On a side note, I’m trying to accept my protruding gut.

https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/ciara-husband-russell-wilson-loves-her-curves-214413132.html

Speaking of acceptance, I have polenta on the menu this week. My daughter will not go near the stuff since she had it so many times during the dark days of the 90’s and early aughts.  I’m mentioning it here so my wife can get used to the idea that it’s coming.  She’s not crazy about it either, but I’m thinking of tossing in some turkey sausage to liven things up. At least she can look forward to my asparagus shrimp stir fry.