Update time.

• I'm preparing to replace my dining room picture window with a set of garden doors. Never before have I made a five-foot wide hole in the wall of a structure that I wanted to continue living in. When I'm finished, it will be a beautiful set of double doors, opening out onto a four-and-a-half foot drop. Guess I should get to work on some deck plans, too.
  
• spring must be here, as the triathletes are beginning to show up in our master's swim team practices. I haven't been going to practice faithfully for the past few weeks, but when I am there, I can count on seeing at least four or five of 'em. The object of many a middle-age-woman's lust is one of these 160 pound wonders, whom I've dubbed Skinny Guy. One of the Broads has taken a shine to him. Sure, he looks hot in his Speedo, but I can still kick his ass (for fifty metres, anyway).
  
• work is a funny place these days. We're building something and I'm not sure if I'm at liberty to say just what yet. Imagine a huge structure, totally surrounded by scaffolding, all covered in tarps, several stories high. People come and go from different levels at all hours of the day and night, carrying wood planks, steaming bowls of pasta, explosives, buckets of paint and manure, canoes and inflatable Zodiacs, cages with howling monkeys, Chinese throwing stars and 1960's lava lamps. Horrible and alluring cacophonies and syncopations are emitting from all over the structure in geysers of din and dissonance.
  
  My job has been to bring wires, batteries, balaclavas for everyone and 4 dozen freshly-baked lemon pound cakes. On Wednesdays I get to write speeches for the archbishop and mash kiwi fruit with my bare feet in one of the clawfooted bathtubs. It's the highlight of my week, I assure you. I enter on the fourth level scaffolding, northwest corner and leave through the ground level exit with exactly four and a half cups of stripped carriage bolts.
  
  Sometime soon, someone is going to tug on a cable, and all the sheathing and supports will fall away in one glorious and tumultuous collapse, leaving our company standing in the wide open business scape for all to see. I'll let you know when it's unveiled.
  
• I went through a bit of a blue funk, but I'm back to a muted yellow now.
  
• my dad's looking forward to his annual Father and Son and Son Father's Day golf game. I guess I should get out to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls before then.
  
• I think I've got a family reunion near Edmonton in the next month.
  
• Jenn was shown the results of some testing that was done during her recent interview and they are relatively certain that she is assertive and task oriented. Why didn't they just ask me?
  
• I am selling some old junk through the Bargain Finder, and no matter what I price it at, someone wants it for ten bucks less. Cheapskates!
  
• in answer to an ongoing mouse problem my mother-in-law is having, Jenn suggests at the dinner table that she get a cat. Resounding cheers sound from both my daughters. McMonkey tries her best to convince everyone at the table that bright-eyed Calico kittens would make excellent mousers.
  
• our van has finally rusted right through. You can see the ground through the door jamb when the driver's door is open. At only 276,000 kilometers. Crappy Fords.
  
• Our yard is home to two robin's nests, both of which contain four chicks. One nest is in the pine tree in front of the house and the other nest is on top of the floodlight in the carport. It pleases me to know that the birds chose our yard as a place to make their home.

That's all for now. I'll keep you informed as new stuff comes up.