12/17/10

Well, I think we’re going to the shop in the morning. I'd like to do a little more work on Nadine and hopefully have the engine mocked up this year. Feh, even I don't care to hear about that right now. OK, I had an epiphany yesterday. Actually, it has been festering in my mind since the night I had to go to Not Texas and pick up the pirate wench at the airport, but yesterday cemented it. I don't have anything to say to people, I don't do “Small Talk,” and I'm tired of trying. Here is what happened. Of course there was the realization that I don't do “Small Talk” while driving the pirate wench from Not Texas to Granbury several months ago. That’s a given. But yesterday I was having lunch with Pat and realized I didn't have anything to say to him either. If I don't have anything to say to one of my best friends, what the hell chance do the rest of you losers have with me? So, I just don't give a damn any more. If I don't have anything to say, I'm not going to say anything. Hell, I might even just walk away. Don't take it personally. It might not just be you. Of course, it might. I'll still greet people in passing with a “How’s it?” and/or reply to their greeting, but I'm not going to bust my hump trying to keep an awkward silence full of inane prattle just to hear some sound. Wait a minute, I've been doing that for a while now, haven’t I? So that is why all my “friends” on FaceBuick said I was already a curmudgeon yesterday. See, right after the epiphany that I don't have anything to say to people, and don't give a damn about it anymore, I posed the question, “Am I old enough to be a curmudgeon yet?” The overwhelming consensus was that I have been for some time. Hmm. I guess I never noticed it because I really thought I was trying to try to give a damn what other people had to say. Apparently I haven’t cared for some time now and am just realizing it. It is kind of liberating, you know? I suppose the next step would be to quit ranting in this blog. We'll see. I do still enjoy sitting at my desk, typing away at nothing though. I'm sure John is the only person who even reads the damned thing. George used to read it but I don't even know if he’s still doing it. Probably not since I don't talk about him much anymore. Ahh, George. Now there’s a curmudgeon’s curmudgeon! He’s the curmudgeon curmudgeon fathers tell their little curmudgeon children about at night when they want them to grow up to be fine upstanding curmudgeons in their own right. His picture should be in the dictionary next to the definition of curmudgeon. I wonder what he’s up to these days. Curmudgeoning around no doubt. Well, I guess that’s about all I've got for the week. I'll probably let y'all know what happened over the weekend on Monday. Then again, I may just decide to stop talking to y'all completely. We'll see.