Neanderpundit

My nephiew, my wife’s middle brother’s son. A decent kid, 30, has a clear head on his shoulders. Waited long enough to get married that his stupid is mostly behind him. Good looking, crooked grin that endears him to everyone he meets.

New wife is a willowy brunette, couple years his junior, very easy on the eyes.

They can dance, too- you can see him put a little pressure on her back and lead and she follows as effortlesly as can be. Not astaire, but hell- everything Astaire did, Rogers did backwards in high heels.

Anyway. Nephew and his new wife are forest rangers. They live in a cottage in the woods miles from civilization. He hunts and fishes for a living. She hunts and fishes by his side.

I took him aside and told him what I did. How I dealt with idiots all day long. How I crawl through slime and shit trying to get from A to B for 50 weeks a year.

How I do that so that a couple weeks a year, I can put on my good boots, sling a rifle over my shoulder, and go out and feel the dry leaves under my feet, in search of bambi- or squirrel, or whatever. How I put up with the foulest shit on earth so for a little while, I can do what he does every day. I reminded him that he is living the dream. I made him promise that any day he felt put upon he’d remember how I live, and why. he grinned that crooked grin and promised he would.

Please go to the sidebar and click on “Get On The Bus” which is a blog belonging to my old friend and serial whiner Leslie.

She comes here about once a year, apparentlly. She forgets that the URL of her OWN BLOG is “GETONTHE” as in GET ON THE BUS. Which is the name I link her blog under. And each time she comes here I have to explain to her that I have not deleted her blog, but that it has been right there on the sidebar from the very first day. And each time she comes back it’s the same thing. “What am I, chopped liver?” No, Leslie, you’re just a little slow on the uptake. I think it’s those big knockers- they’re robbing the blood from your brain.

So go click, for God’s sake, so she has some neanderpundit referrals. You should be reading her every day anyway, she has the bestest links. Except for the cat stuff, which gives me a hairball. or a haemmoroid, whichever comes first.

Once again, proving that I look like a hitman in a suit.

At nephews wedding, the waitstaff is hovering around me asking me for clearance to serve wine, clear tables, etc. Amusing as hell.