It's Saturday. Saturday afternoon, matter of fact. 2:15pm at this very moment. I am sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a slight headache (too many beers last night), listening to hubby and sonny boy tear apart the wood deck right outside the window. Hubby went and bought himself a BFH. Ok, I will not elaborate what a BFH is, but it has a long wooden handle, and a 6 lb weighty thing at the end. And it's for big jobs. Such as tearing up the wood deck. Sonny Boy is using the big crow bar along with the crow bar screw driver looking thing (would that be classified as a BFSD?) The sawzaw (??) and the chainsaw have both made appearances. I've got 911 predialed on both the cell and the house phone :) One can never be too prepared. The alternative was for me to go shopping and blow my budget. Sonny Boy has just put on work gloves. After 2 hours of this. But then comes in and ask for a stick of deoderant (?) and a papertowel. After he washes his hands real well and dries them, he takes papertowel and rubs deoderant on open cuts. What in the world are you doing kid??? Apparently it stops the bleeding and seals it. Huh. What do I know, as his mother? Except that a: should have put gloves on in the beginning and b) go get a bandaid!!! His poor musician hands are so cut up ... I've been assured not from old rusty nails or wood, but the equipment hes using. Now I need go check Hubby and make sure he doesn't need some medical attention. Oh. What have I been doing? Making bread. Italian bread. Determined I should have went shopping afterall and bought myself a baquette pan :)

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