"Labor" Day Weekend...
Why do they call a holiday "labor day?" Isn't that semantically the same way of saying "work day?"
Well, that's what I've had to do this weekend. Work...labor...around the house. While Stacey works...labors...on the weekend picking up some extra work hours so she can save up for a digital camera or something.
Why not call it "respite day", or "vacation day," or "screw-around day?" Sure, it would take a while for those names to catch on. But..."labor" day? I guess we missed that one when it became officialized... "Screw around" day...I could live with that, so when people called and asked what I was doing, I could say, "just screwing around." Hmmm...
Yes, I'm whining. But I'm allowed to. First, I'm good at it. Second, well...I've been whining about things since I was the kid not picked by the other kids (on either team) to play kickball in 3rd grade. Dang you, Miss Clemens...why is it 3rd grade teachers think that 3rd graders would treat each other with dignity and fairness? Sure, I was so short I could barely see over the kickball itself. But still...I had feelings, dang it.
Heh...really, the weekend's been busy, but productive. A good way to describe it is "finally," as in, I'm finally getting around to getting some small projects done I've been putting off.
In other news...
I'd like to welcome Scott to our blogging community. It's nice to actually ADD a link for a change, since I've usually had to delete them as people gave up or got frustrated with our hobby(I've deleted 5 blogs over the past year).
Sadly, blogs became venues of bad communication (i.e., people would read too much or too little into people's blogs, and/or they would use blogs to vent about things or someone without going to that person directly...so sad...guess I even did that myself). Still, I believe blogging can be a worthwile thing to do, as long as it doesn't turn into some kind of text-based soap opera.
"As the screen turns..."
"The blogs of our lives..."
Okay, that's pitiful. I admit it. But pretend you like what I have to say here, so I don't have flashbacks to kickball in the third grade.
"But...what...about...me?" (insert sobbing here).
Well, that's what I've had to do this weekend. Work...labor...around the house. While Stacey works...labors...on the weekend picking up some extra work hours so she can save up for a digital camera or something.
Why not call it "respite day", or "vacation day," or "screw-around day?" Sure, it would take a while for those names to catch on. But..."labor" day? I guess we missed that one when it became officialized... "Screw around" day...I could live with that, so when people called and asked what I was doing, I could say, "just screwing around." Hmmm...
Yes, I'm whining. But I'm allowed to. First, I'm good at it. Second, well...I've been whining about things since I was the kid not picked by the other kids (on either team) to play kickball in 3rd grade. Dang you, Miss Clemens...why is it 3rd grade teachers think that 3rd graders would treat each other with dignity and fairness? Sure, I was so short I could barely see over the kickball itself. But still...I had feelings, dang it.
Heh...really, the weekend's been busy, but productive. A good way to describe it is "finally," as in, I'm finally getting around to getting some small projects done I've been putting off.
In other news...
I'd like to welcome Scott to our blogging community. It's nice to actually ADD a link for a change, since I've usually had to delete them as people gave up or got frustrated with our hobby(I've deleted 5 blogs over the past year).
Sadly, blogs became venues of bad communication (i.e., people would read too much or too little into people's blogs, and/or they would use blogs to vent about things or someone without going to that person directly...so sad...guess I even did that myself). Still, I believe blogging can be a worthwile thing to do, as long as it doesn't turn into some kind of text-based soap opera.
"As the screen turns..."
"The blogs of our lives..."
Okay, that's pitiful. I admit it. But pretend you like what I have to say here, so I don't have flashbacks to kickball in the third grade.
"But...what...about...me?" (insert sobbing here).
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