The Chair

Welcome to Lund Lake..where there are still a few choice shore-line lots available. But hurry, both the deals and the lake itself may not last much longer.

Lund Lake, as seen on Facebook

There was considerable concern at our house this weekend as Linda stood by our back door biting her nails as rain, and melting snow combined with the still frozen ground to turn our back yard into a sizeable containment pond rising perilously close to the house itself which, of course, means the very real possibility of it seeping into our basement. That brings back a flood of bad memories from the time before we had drain tile and a sump pump installed, when all the carpeting in our finished lower level, had to be pulled back and we took turns night and day manning the Shop-Vac sucking up water that crept in following a heavy downpour. I can still see Linda plop down on a chair from total exhaustion and frustration, and with her face in her hands begin to weep..but only for a short while. She’d soon shake it off, apologize for her little moment, flash her familiar smile and resume vacuuming up water.

 Fortunately, this latest threat has passed. The dam that is our brick patio, held and the drain tile did its job. Our basement remains as dry as a Lutheran sermon.

Besides, Linda doesn’t have time for any downstairs issues. She, along with my sister-in-law, Judy, have been busy carrying out the plan to renovate our main floor. The living room is the latest to get refurbished and rearranged which meant relocating my Archie Bunker chair.

(It just dawned on me that a few of you who follow this twice-weekly fiasco might actually be too young to know who Archie Bunker is..or was. I’ll give you a couple minutes to Google the name so you can catch up.)

I don’t believe I’m as culturally insensitive or politically hawkish as ol’ Arch but besides our girth, we have something else in common; “It’s  my chair, meathead, and if you sit in it, I’ll kick you out.”

From my new location by the ellipse window, I have close at hand my trusty laptop, a good view of the TV, several remotes, reading and writing materials, some Keloland TV memorabilia and even a mini recliner that I got as a retirement gift and which served as a model for the real thing acquired last year.

Steve Hemmingsen carved that old time microphone out of two types of wood and, of course my Captain 11 bobblehead is always on display.

It’s going to be a challenge today (Sunday) trying to keep our invited company from sitting in my chair. The guest of honor is our grandson Taylor Smith. It’s his birthday so I suppose I should let him park his buns on my recliner for that alone. But he’s more than welcome to occupy the seat of honor for another reason;  his honorable service to our country in the United States Marine Corps both here on the home front as well as the bloody battle fronts of Afghanistan.

Happy Birthday, Taylor from two very proud grandparents. Welcome home. Sit wherever you damn well please.

LATER: