Best Laid Plans

Nothing I ever do turns out the way I plan.  One could logically assume that I suck at planning.  I admit to not being the best planner in the world, but most of my failures are in the execution of that plan.  Think about hunting.  My plan might be to get out there before the light of day with all of my scent-blocking stuff, gun ready, stomach full, etc, etc, etc, and sit in the tree stand.  When a deer comes by, shoot it.  In this scenario, everything would work out perfectly.  I would see a massive 12-point buck, but I would miss it or shoot it in a non-vital area, needing to track it for hours.  Maybe I should just plan the tasks and hire someone else to do it.  Then again, I would not learn from my plethora of mistakes.

Sore

I had the tattoo on my chest expanded up my to my shoulder, down my arm a few, and slightly on the back.  That was 2.5 hours of pure bliss.  Not really.  First 90 minutes was fine.  After that, it pretty much sucked.  My chest tattoo might have hurt more up front, but it was only an hour deal.  The only break was moving the Camaro when the psychic told me to move it because I was parked in her spot.  (She couldn’t see that coming?)  I knew I would be sore today, but I wasn’t expecting the opposite should to be sore.  I must have been compensating more than I realized.  Driving a 6-speed was a bit of a challenge with the shoulder wrapped up.  I think I’ll drive the truck today.

Someone Stole My Chair!

I was at the kid’s football practice last evening.  I always bring the bag chair and sit on the hill near the other parents.  I’ve left that chair to talk to people, use the bathroom, and get food from the concession stand.  No issues.  That chair has always been right there.  Last night, our boys were scrimmaging some Zanesville kids.  It was near the end of practice when I went to talk to a guy I know.  Five minutes later, I return with my chair, gone.  Who the hell steals a bag chair?  As much as I would like to say I’ll  hunt down that bastard and stab him/her in the face, it’s a freaking bag chair.  I do not care about it.  It was old and shitty.  I’ll just go buy a new one that is more comfortable to sit in.  Frickin Zanesville people.  I guess they needed that chair more than me.  I’ll GPS tag this new chair.

What a Difference!

I never really noticed how big of a difference driving two vehicles could be.  Going from the Camaro to the Explorer or the F250 to the Explorer is not that big of a difference, but after driving the Camaro for a couple of weeks, going from the Camaro to the F250.  Wow!  It’s like going from a bicycle to a tank!  There is the obvious driver height difference.  My ass going from a foot off the ground to five feet above the road is just minor.  I thought the F250 was pretty zippy, but that 6-speed manual on the Camaro (even though it is a V6) makes the truck seem like a slug.  Granted, the truck weighs 4,000 pounds more than the Camaro.  No wonder I only get 11.7 MPG in the truck.  Then again, the Camaro cannot pull an excavator behind it.  I guess that is the reason I have both.  A practical work horse in the truck, and a more fuel efficient fun driver in the Camaro.