I am laboring, as I am on-call. I am also going to be "riding the lawn" (riding lawn mower while the wife hand mows via the push mower), so that's semi-laboring for me and laboring for her. (She doesn't like the way I mow so I'm let off the hook; besides, I might vomit if I try to push a mower in the next eight hours. See below.O=)
I find it amusing that stores opened early today, considering the day is about having a day off for laboring. Ah, America--where no holiday or day of recognition is safe.
My non-laboring-laboring self hopes to watch a couple of episodes of Doctor Who, read a bit more of "Wild," survive tonight's football draft (on line and in, what I consider, the wee hours of the night) and make a five minute work-training video. In my new job at my old job, I am in charge of training. I have no time for Power-point presentations that feature a bazillion words in tiny print of which the trainer reads word for word. Today's audience has no stomach for such nonsense--they need clips and blips and sound bites and color. I plan on making a five minute video today....and, that's stretching it. Today's youngsters on the job (anyone under 40) aren't going to pay attention longer than five minutes. I'll take fast and use lots of visuals (like the dogs).
We went to breakfast with the Gaybors this morning. The amount of food brought to our table was obscene. Only in America--holidays are no longer sacred AND the portions are bigger than your head. It put the word "gluttony" to shame. I don't understand why we in America find it necessary to super-super size EVERYTHING. I tried to finish my vat of berry-laden oatmeal and the "short stack" of the largest pancakes on earth, but by the time I got half way done, I experienced a food injury and had to stop. It's been thirty minutes and I still feel like I may puke. I think pancakes and oatmeal were a bad combo--both expand in the belly once in there. Thankfully, I have some ice cream in the freezer. I'll have that for dinner. I figure that will fit around the cemented ball of carbohydrates living in my belly.
Like I said. I can't mow or puke.
On the sad-news front, I do believe our Green Ash is beginning to show signs of the dreaded and most hated Green Ash Borer. I've been keeping a close watch on the tree, giving it a hug now and then, talking to it whenever I walk by, surrounding it in a bubble of love. This week, I noticed woodpecker holes and thinning of some branches. Dang. I haven't seen any borer "D" shaped holes but that's usually the last thing you see on the trunk. I can't exactly crawl up the tree and take a gander. Our tree looks the best out of any in the neighborhood, which is good and bad. It kind of prolongs the agony. That tree and I have a love fest going on. I wanted it to survive the plight but it's not looking good. The wife and I have decided to leave it until next year, mainly because it's still looking good, but also because it is going to cost at least $900 to have it cut down. I'm glad to have one more season with it. I shall savor every moment of having that tree alive on our property.
Shout out to my dad who is laboring over the issues with his ear. Van Gogh has nothing on him.
As for Labor Day itself, I do thank the Unions for their effort to bring us this fine day. I'm not a big fan of Unions but they certainly did have their day and time and they improved the work world in a bazillion ways. For this, I tip my hat to them. The holiday has unfortunately lost its meaning; it is no longer recognition of the work and sweat of our workers. It is a day of picnics and trips and the end of Summer, the start of school and lots of shopping. Fire up the grill, sit by the lake, finalize your fantasy football line up. I wish no one had to labor today, but those days are gone. Every day is a Labor Day.
So, happy Labor Day. I hope you do not belabor too much on this day. If you are laboring, God love you.
If you are in labor (which has nothing at all to do with today), hope your doctor isn't on a golf course or boat or four-wheeler.
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