Thanks for reading another edition of Calvin’s Dad’s Newsletter! Don’t forget to like, subscribe and share with all your friends. Until next time, remember to aerate your back!
Sunday morning, we were getting all of our winter weather stuff ready and tore the house apart because we could not find my wife’s winter boots. Three pair of them, just gone. Not in any of the closets, under-bed boxes, the attic – anywhere. It’s been 3 years since we had meaningful snow, so we assumed we donated them due to lack of use. We scrambled and put in a hasty pick up order at DSW…which was cancelled about 18 minutes after placing it. We ran to The Worst Strip Mall to hit up a Dick’s location that, between 11th hour snow prep and holiday returns was its own ring of Hell, and left with a passable pair that would be fine for now and placed an order for 2 better pair that would arrive midweek, since another snow is looming next weekend. An hour or so after we got home I heard a guttural, not entirely human sound, followed by a heavy thud at the bottom of the staircase. This was, of course, the bag containing all 3 “missing” pairs of boots, which had been in the very back of an armoire drawer under all the sheets for the 2nd bedroom. I don’t think it was my doing but I apologized anyway, just to be safe. So now she has 4 pair in the house and 2 more coming tomorrow.
It’s a net win for society that there are no children exposed to this lunacy.
The trick to snow shoveling is to have a lahge iced hazelnut regulah and a cigarette hanging from your lip. You want to keep your lungs warm and body caffeinated.
Don’t forget to yell at the town plow guys after they snow you in 20 minutes after you finish your driveway.
Dad was never great about the birds and the bees stuff but darn if he didn't teach me early that a smart shoveler clears the snow in the street to avoid the plow's wrath.
I have a vague memory of having bread bags put on my feet at some point in my childhood, but now I can't recall if it was for snow or for playing in the rain.
Thanks for reading another edition of Calvin’s Dad’s Newsletter! Don’t forget to like, subscribe and share with all your friends. Until next time, remember to aerate your back!
*chef's kiss*
Sunday morning, we were getting all of our winter weather stuff ready and tore the house apart because we could not find my wife’s winter boots. Three pair of them, just gone. Not in any of the closets, under-bed boxes, the attic – anywhere. It’s been 3 years since we had meaningful snow, so we assumed we donated them due to lack of use. We scrambled and put in a hasty pick up order at DSW…which was cancelled about 18 minutes after placing it. We ran to The Worst Strip Mall to hit up a Dick’s location that, between 11th hour snow prep and holiday returns was its own ring of Hell, and left with a passable pair that would be fine for now and placed an order for 2 better pair that would arrive midweek, since another snow is looming next weekend. An hour or so after we got home I heard a guttural, not entirely human sound, followed by a heavy thud at the bottom of the staircase. This was, of course, the bag containing all 3 “missing” pairs of boots, which had been in the very back of an armoire drawer under all the sheets for the 2nd bedroom. I don’t think it was my doing but I apologized anyway, just to be safe. So now she has 4 pair in the house and 2 more coming tomorrow.
It’s a net win for society that there are no children exposed to this lunacy.
The trick to snow shoveling is to have a lahge iced hazelnut regulah and a cigarette hanging from your lip. You want to keep your lungs warm and body caffeinated.
Don’t forget to yell at the town plow guys after they snow you in 20 minutes after you finish your driveway.
Dad was never great about the birds and the bees stuff but darn if he didn't teach me early that a smart shoveler clears the snow in the street to avoid the plow's wrath.
It appears you unintentionally made a “No Snow Angels” warning sign by walking over it diagonally.
Action Cookbook is a simple newsletter with a simple goal.
1) sell a quality product at a fair price
2) drain the world's oceans so we can find and kill god
I am a 40 year old from Florida and have still have not seen this snow that y'all are talking about.
I've got plenty to spare right now, I'll drop some in the mail for ya.
Did you put bread bags on their feet to keep them dry? Did other people do that or was it just my mom?
I have a vague memory of having bread bags put on my feet at some point in my childhood, but now I can't recall if it was for snow or for playing in the rain.
"As little as 30 minutes or as long as a half hour" is the realest thing I ever read in my life