Sprkus

Whereas, on the thirteenth day of August, in the year of our Lord two thousand and seven, a proclamation was issued by Rick, containing, among other things, the following, to wit:

“That on the twenty-third day of July, in the year of our Lord two thousand and seven, I have accepted that I then, thence forward, and forever shall be domesticated; and Tiffany, as the executive government of the household, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such person and will do no acts or act to repress such person in any efforts they may make for his actual freedom. I accept valiant courage and steadfast will all things suburban such as grill assembly, lawn mowing, car washing, laundry sorting, frame hanging, proper toilet seat positioning, table manners, cleanliness, heavy lifting, wine bottle opening and all tool using.”

We bought a grill a couple weeks back, part of the list of “necessities” that must accompany and move into a house. Immediately after the purchase we ran to a grocery store for food to throw on it for that night’s dinner. By this time, it was 6:30 p.m. and I got started assembling the grill right away as Tiffany prepared the corn, chicken and potatoes we were going to soon devour.

Or so we thought.

Of no fault of my own, despite screwing a wrong piece A to wrong piece B a time or two, the grill wasn’t shooting flames until around 9:45 p.m. When did grills become so painstakingly long to put together? Maybe they always have been, this was my first time.

We got a great deal on a Char-Broil gas grill from Lowes for only $78 because summer is dwindling away and they’re trying to move the ones in stock. The regular price was $119. That doesn’t include the $45 Blue Rhino propane tank, but who’s counting.

Maybe that model’s been marked down by $40 all summer because it takes three hours to put together. So they paid me $13.33 an hour under the table to put it together? I’ll take it.

Too bad the same can’t be true for time spent mowing the lawn of which I must now take care. Or at least cut. Since we’re still just renting, I’m not going to spend money on fertilizer or any kind of crab-grass wrangler that’s only going to benefit the house’s owner.

We’re still waiting on the mulch for the front of the house that the owner promised us, but that’s another story.

We bought a this lawn mower from Lowes the same day we bought the grill. Somehow we fit them both in my Civy but we had to take the lawn mower out of its box and leave it at the store.

Not to mention four giant metal citronella torches, each equipped with two 12-inch pointed spikes used to stab the torch into the innocent ground. That’s eight lances in total for those of you keeping score at home. We had to lay them between the two front seats and into the back seats where the grill box was stuffed.

So between the lawn torches, the un-boxed lawn mower equipped with brand new razor-sharp blades in the trunk, a 50-pound box full of grill in the back seat kept company by a full propane tank on the floor, the Civy was a practical bringer of death with great gas mileage.

Like it could have fit right into a “Mad Max” movie.

But we made it home just fine. And I cut the lawn last Monday, a day local Columbus newscaster Jim Ganahl would later call the most humid day of 2007 as of then.

I was sweating worse than Lavell Crawford from Last Comic Standing.

And in a further act of domestication, yesterday Tiffany and I washed both of our cars at home in the driveway.

Now we just need a dog, right?

Devon and Rich came over Saturday and were the house’s first official dinner guests. Or even drink quests for that matter.

Even though they are married, Tiffany and I schooled them in two rounds of the Newlywed Game. In their defense, it was only the first and second time they had played the game. But they were still trounced.

In blog news, I received a comment on a post I wrote back in May about the “Dancers for Democracy” and their fight to defeat an Ohio bill that would have required six feet between a dancer and her customer.

The commenter identifies herself as Charity Fickisen, chairwoman of Dancers for Democracy. She can be seen in a photo in the original post as well as a video from the Ohio News Network. Apologies for the audio being a little off:

Who says this blog doesn’t have any readers?