Metro Fly

I've tried for years to work the term "fly" into my vernacular, but it never seems to stick.

It's probably because I'm not.

However, I am metro, and working that word into daily usage didn't take much effort at all. So this weekend, while we sipped some kind of alcohol (I use "we" in the royal sense here, not the couple with one member who is pregnant) with out friends Team Cuts, and discussing things that need to be done for Porter.

One of the things is that Porter's bedroom needs to become a functioning baby bedroom. Currently, it's a functioning guest room / Rob's office. It would function better if I could do more than just play video games on Saturday while the wife sleeps, but it does that well, and we will not debate that functionality at these proceedings.

Enter my friend Tara.

Tara and I have known each other since 6th grade (her first tour, my second). That's a damn long time to know someone, let alone maintain anything passing as a friendly relationship. Tara and I get along like peas and carrots . . . post harvest. Pre-harvest you won't find any peas hanging out with the carrots. It's a bitter fued. Two houses, both alike in dignity and all that.

Anyhow, Tara has offered to assist in getting the house, specifically Porter's room and the kitchen (the kitchen needs to be painted) into a good order. I'm very excited about this, but Lil was even more excited since it meant that she didn't have to try to figure out if distressed white goes with Louis XIV.

It can, and that's all I'll say.