Monday, September 26, 2011

An Old Man Moment

I understand that this blog is supposed to be somehow related to quilting or the fabric arts, so today's post will be a little bit of a stretch. I am going to have to rely on the quilter stereo type. You know the one, white hair matronly old lady that spouts fortune cookie wisdom with a mid-west flavor. I have to take that stereo type one step further, and talk about her husband. The old curmudgeon, you know the one that Clint Eastwood portrayed perfectly in Gran Torino.

So now that I have established the tenuous link to todays post I shall regale you with a trip through my wires (Jeanne, my little sis, will love that last sentence, I used regale in the proper context and the wire trip bit is an obscure reference to a U2 song).

I was out late on Saturday night on my wife's errand for which I earned the reward of a McDonald's milk shake. I almost got a Frosty from Wendy's, but I was driving and my avid anti text/call and driving stance requires me to straw instead of spoon while behind the wheel. So back to the story... I order a milk shake at the drive through and was pleasantly surprised by the cheerful and competent voice coming out of the speaker. I pull up to the first window and pay, and then proceed to the next window because some how a second window makes your food faster.

At the second window I had my grumpy old man moment. The girl hands me a transparent plastic cup with a frilly dome top containing something topped with whip cream and a cherry. I was mad. What happened to the cheap wax coated paper cup with a cheesy plastic cover, and where did they get off putting whip cream and a cherry on it. Highfalutin (yes it was spell checked) McCafe, what happened to McDonald's?

I now understand why old men get grumpy. Sure I got another 30 years to get my senior citizen discount, and it is doubtful I will ever see my social security, but between the quilting and aversion to change I make an awesome old person.

Monday, September 19, 2011

I Made it to the Big Time

A few of the fans of my email campaigns have urged me to start a blog, and with Becky not having the time nor gumption to be the voice of the Four Pines Quilting blog I have been promoted to Blogger.


Blogging is a lot of pressure, writing e-mails was easy, people actually signed up for it and it was beamed to their inbox so I had a willing captive audience. My competition was cheap Cialis, Russian mail order brides, or the occasional loto winner from Nigeria. My target audience was mostly mature women of distinguished taste, so Russian Brides did not worry me. The cheap Cialis might be more appealing than my rambling, but I don't think it is covered by insurance if you buy it on line and it was more for the husband than my intended victim. The loto winner had me concerned, but I have been assured that the money is being sent to me, so if that is in anyone else's inbox they should disregard it and read my e-mail instead.



Now Blogging on the other hand is a huge responsibility, my competition is much bigger, and I have to some how entice people to read my ramblings with my wit and charm, because I can't attach a 20% off coupon to a blog post to trick you into reading it. Not only that, I have to be sure to fact check and maintain an air of seriousness just in case one of my post ends up being a reference for the news story dujour(I think that is french for "the day", not positive though my Memere really only taught me how to swear with a Canadian accent) .



So if you read the blog for Becky's prose and weekly accounts of the comings and goings of Four Pines Quilting, I apologize now. My lavish hyperbole and lack of punctuation mastery will certainly have a different taste to it.(That last sentence was awesome, "lavish hyperbole" how often do you get to read word combinations like that and who cares if makes no sense) Please comment and stuff so I have some material to work with, if you leave me wandering around in my own mind for ideas you get stuff like taun tauns and home schooled sasquatches.



-Brent