A day in the life...

So on the evening of asking my grandparents to write down some of their favorite stories of their life I decide to start a blog. Why? Because if my grandchildren ever decide they want to know why they are so screwed up they will know…

Seconds after telling my husband that I mentioned to my grandparents that they should write these stories or record them so they will not be lost forever we walk downstairs he looks at his wine (he makes his own) and goes out to the garage and tells me to grab some news paper. I think what the hell, why argue??? He is carrying with him some tissue paper, a plastic bag and nothing else that I can see though he did grab something off the shelf in the garage. I get outside, with the newspaper and he is seated in-between our cars with his propane torch and the tissue paper on the ground. “ Honey will you hold this bag?” Hands on my hips I ask him to remove himself from the vicinity of my car two or three times. “Trust me,” he says. I don’t know why, but him saying trust me always makes me nervous - especially when he has a lit propane torch in hand. Maybe it’s his grin when he sees the flame. After refusing to move away from my car (what do I care about his?) he asks me to hold his plastic bag. And for those of you that are as slow as me we are doing this for the purpose of making a hot air balloon. Needless to say being as cold as it is, the heat from the flame worked to fill the bag but after the flame went out the bag did not fly. My darling husband was disappointed that it wouldn’t actually fly off to become trash in someone else’s yard. So he tries again with the newspaper, which melts the bag and does little else, so goes a day in the life of me…