Post by RG on Mar 2, 2022 15:56:17 GMT -5
Today, Mrs. G and I went to check out gas stoves. Not the kind to cook on, but the kind that looks like a fake wood fireplace, because the one we currently have, I have to say in as nice a way as possible, sucks. Unfortunately we had no choice when buying the house, the builder asks if we want one, we say yes, they give us what they want. I guess leaving a hole in the wall where the insert is supposed to go isn't considered safe...not like I'd try to crawl in there or anything. 
At any rate, we were out today and then after shopping headed for home. Now at this time some of you may be wondering why the title of this is Skunks when all I am doing is writing about gas stove inserts. Those of you who have known me for a while are aware that my mind is a scary place to visit, and as my lovely bride can attest, is also kinda weird. Thus, we come to the meat, so to speak, of this thread. Skunks.
I counted 5 dead skunks in the road on our way home. Now the first thing that happens when I see something while driving, is a song comes to mind. This explains my last Castle story as thinking of millions of bugs immediately brought to mind the songs of George and Ira Gershwin. I mean, that makes sense, right? The same thing applies with the skunks. When we passed the third and fourth one, I brought it up to Mrs. G who immediately pleaded for me NOT to sing.
Now despite what some might think, I am fully cognoscente of my responsibilities as a husband and am also fully aware of the fact that Mrs. G used to clean up after 4 horses and lifted them bales of hay into the hay loft, and is still pretty strong. Also keeping in mind how easily I bruise, I did not sing. However I did think of the song and sang it to myself, proud that I never once moved my lips. It is still amazing to me that Mrs. G knew exactly what was going on despite my trying to keep mum.
Thus I am writing this thread and copying the link to the You Tube video of the 1972 song by Loudon Wainwright III, called Dead Skunk. I leave it for your listening pleasure and to understand how appreciative my bride was when I didn't sing it. Odd how she usually appreciates my not singing about things, like when she felt she had to explain to our neighbor why, when her husband would take her for a ride on his motorcycle, I would break out in Motorcycle Mama. Mrs. G asked me nicely not to do that anymore.
I quickly complied. As I have been known to say, my mama didn't raise no dummy.
I think I'll post that link too. Hope they work.
Dead Skunk
Motorcycle Mama.
or my age? 
