My father had a way about him. He wasn’t always the nicest guy, but I know he loved me. He had a sarcastic sense of humor. I can’t tell you how many birthday cards I gave him with a picture of a little kid picking their nose that said I picked this one just for you. That always made me think of him! Still does.
Today he has been in my head. Not sure why today, but he’s been there. He had his sayings. He called everyone a turkey and he always accused me of doing things half-assed.
I’m a terrible housekeeper. There is nothing I find enjoyable or pleasurable about the process. I find it satisfying when it’s done, but as he would have said, I did a half-ass job. I don’t care if it was half-ass or not. It’s done and the house is better for it.
I mopped the kitchen, steam cleaned the rugs, got a good 3 mile walk in, and prepped my meals for the week. I call that success and am going to sit and enjoy a glass of wine!
Cheers Bob!
Lula Harp 
Half-Assed. My mom’s favorite complaint about my work as a teen. I hear it coming out of my mouth sometimes. I have learned to bite my tongue. It is better to have my mate do a “half-assed” job than no job at all. I have learned to accept that his way of doing things is not mine and sometimes it’s good enough.
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