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Lefty recommended that I write another blog post, and we all know that I do as I'm told.
Unfortunately I'm so boring, there's nothing to write about.  My fans know this.  Both of you.  Even my critics know it.  All three of them.
I logged into Blogger and noticed I had a blank draft with no title so I decided to start there.  I can't wait to see what my biggest critic, the neighborhood gossip, Lou Scannon, has to say about this pointless post.  He doesn't actually read my blog, but my good friend (or whatever) Dromiquine tells him all about it and together they cook it into a scandal.  And since bad publicity is still publicity, I will probably have to thank them when my meaningless pecks at the keyboard accidentally win me some weird type of award.
Why any of you keep reading this crap is beyond my comprehension.  Jeremy Renner would have moved on to something more interesting a long time ago.

The Dying Art of Proper English

It's not easy being a closet grammar nazi.  A poster at our local high school says, "Purposeful, Respectful, Intelligent, Determined, Excellence."  The first four words are adjectives and the last one is a noun.  I deeply feel that all five words should be the same part of speech.  If all five words were nouns, the sign would read, "Purpose, Respect, Intelligence, Determination, Excellence".  If all were adjectives it would say, "Purposeful, Respectful, Intelligent, Determined, Excellent".  Unless, of course, the first four words are describing the excellence, in which case everything I just said is moot.  Then again, Random Unlimited IS moot.  I can't believe someone of your intelligence is even wasting time reading it.
Watching TV sets me nazi-ing terribly.  Maybe America's Got Talent, but it doesn't gots grammar.  If America DID have grammar, the TV show would be called "America Has Talent".  I can't make it through a half-hour sitcom without hearing "who" where "whom" should be used.
Current music kills me.  Curses serve as all parts of speech, lyrics are pointless, and the rhymes, don't.
Am I the only one who knows these things?  Are there any others left who know how to diagram a sentence?  Does anyone even know what a syllable is anymore?  (That's the number of vowel sounds in a word.  For instance, "Jeremy" has three syllables, "Lee" has one syllable, and "Renner" has two syllables.)  ("I" is generally a one-syllable word, but Dromiquine--you know her--manages to make it a multiple because it's her favorite subject.)  (Palindromes are words that spell the same thing backward as they do forward, such as "mom", "dad", "Bob", "Do geese see God", or "Renner".)  (Palindromes don't really fit into this paragraph.)  (It's unprofessional to use several sets of parentheses in succession.)
If no one knows the rules of the English language, there's no longer any comedic value in my intentional misuse of it, in which case my life is over.

Is That Luke Bryan?

That dude is everywhere.
Turn on a country music radio station at any given moment, and every third song, whom will you hear?  Luke Bryan. 
Check out the host of the country music awards.  Is that Luke Bryan?  Check out the winner of the country music awards.  Is that Luke Bryan?
He gets around.  Last year I came face to face with a life-size cardboard cutout in Cabela's in Post Falls, and all I could say was, "Is that Luke Bryan?"

Whose kind of night is it?  Luke Bryan's.  Who's kicking up dust?  Luke Bryan.  Who's touring Europe?  Luke Bryan.
Recently my work took me to Las Vegas, and whose larger than life self was looking all awesome gazing down from a mural on the wall right there on the Las Vegas strip?  Jeremy Renner's.  AND...Luke Bryan's.

Changing of the Guard

This year I celebrated the twenty-first birthday of The Precious, I watched Angel Doll and my Treasure graduate high school, and I said goodbye to Grandpa.  The guard is changing.  Does anyone ever feel prepared for the future?
We've done our best to train up our children in the way they should go, and now we get to watch them live out what we have taught them.  But that doesn't mean our work is over, only that our job description has changed.  We get to be the support system as our children test their wings, celebrate their successes, and maybe even make their own mistakes.  We are qualified to help them recover from, and forgive themselves for, mistakes they may make, because we have modeled that in our own lives.  At least, we are trying to!
And if we are REALLY blessed, we, like Grandpa, will someday celebrate a fiftieth wedding anniversary (and then some), and see our grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even a great-great grandchild.
Ready or not, the future has come.  We have faith that God has prepared us to carry the torch.  We will continue to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, do good to them that hate us, and pray for them which despitefully use us and persecute us.  We will be mightier than Jeremy Renner.  The guard is changing, and whether we feel ready, we will trust that we ARE ready.  Our children are ready to be adults.  We are ready to witness our children becoming adults.  We will be ready if parents begin to need us more than we need them.  And we will hope to be as gracious as Grandma as she takes the helm without Grandpa.  Go in peace, Grandpa.  We will take it from here.

Not As Smart As My Phone

I'm finally moving into the twenty-first century with the rest of the world, though I've been so happy with my secondhand slide phone.  You've heard that ignorance is bliss?  Here's an example.  While society communicates primarily via emojis, all I receive on my secondhand slide phone are little squares.
Me: "You're invited to my party!  I'm inviting Jeremy Renner too!"
My sister-in-law Lovesme: "   ⃣    ⃣   "
My sister-in-law Hatesme: "   ⃣    ⃣   "
So I'm thinking, how sweet, they probably sent me heart emojis.  With a smiley face!  When in reality, I probably got a middle finger emoji, and a poop.
I lost my contacts in the move; even my children's numbers.  The only phone number I still have is Grandma's, because it's been the same my whole life and I had it memorized from back in the late 1900's when we still had to actually dial.
Text me your number at 509-398-5304.  For real.

Angel Spreads Its Wings

What kind of parent drops its child at an international airport and just walks away from it?  But we did.  Angel Doll has wanted to be an exchange student since she was only half a pint.  And I was like, "No!  You're only half a pint."  But now she's three quarters of a pint, and a well known fact about three-quarter pints is that they're unstoppable.
So I was trying to be all tough and cool about sending her off, but when we got to the airport security checkpoint and she turned to hug us all goodbye, and there might have been a little angel-tear in her little angel-eye, it was a real killer to keep my face from raining.  But I put on my Jeremy Renner pants, and Angel Doll did too (not the same pair; she has her own pair), and Europe gets to be her family for the rest of July.

Renner/Wilson 2016

Hillary Clinton?  Donald Trump?  I vote Jeremy Renner for president.  I'll be his veep.
Renner/Wilson 2016!