These men founded a nation. These guys founded some socks. Happy Father's Day!
Summer in Texas. I hate it. I'm from Texas, so I'm allowed to say so. It's not so much the heat, although if your air conditioner pooped out, you would probably die. Adding to your postmortem embarrassment, no one would notice you were dead right away, since everyone smells bad anyway. It's not so much the dozens of ways you can get bitten or stung by wonderfully vile and vicious creatures, both see-ums and no-see-ums. You become addicted to deet and carry a couple of cans of bug spray with you everywhere, just in case, and hope no one finds out you have a monkey on your back. It's not so much the bone-boiling lethargy you feel on a hot day that lasts 124 hours, all miserable and well ab
It was about 3:00 a.m.-ish ("a.m." as in "after midnight", not "a.m.-ish" as in "Amish"), as I left the studio-- (I don't spend all day and night in here--if I did, I might be really good by now--no, I just usually start very late) a glorified storage building-- (I don't actually glorify it, but it's perfect for me and I love it) and as I'm feeling my way in the dark to the house (which is a trailer, but it's perfect for us and we love it), I relax when I reach the steps (sometimes I use my brain and the flashlight, but I mostly use my naked nighttime eyes to find my way to the house and in the dark and my stupidity, I often lose my balance on the stepping stones. Though I have never fallen
