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bymichaeldunn bymichaeldunn

1146 posts   780 followers   690 followings

Michael Dunn  Musician, writer, carpenter, by order of preference.

http://www.themoaninafter.com/

It’s the long weekend. Have yerself a shower beer. Y’all earned it Butts.

Ruddi is not impressed by the hot takes on basketball podcasts.

Y’all get one guess as to what we call these...

Ever been kicked in the arse by a frozen workboot?

Maybe it’d be best if everyone in Calgary didn’t drive anywhere today.

Had to get a new pouch, and luckily got out of work early enough on Friday to get to Hillhurst Hardware instead of the tradesman’s walmart (Home Depot). Occidental Leather makes the best carpenter’s pouches and it ain’t even remotely close. @occidentalleather

We all need buds like @misssandysilva. She made me a loaf of homemade bread and I added pesto to the mayo and this is gonna be the best sandwich.

We poured all this today. The orange cover at top right is where the stairs are, that’s what my crew does. Today I stood outside and pourwatched/problemsolved for 8 1/2 hrs at -26. Good job.

Ask him if he don’t!

drifts on the kitchen window

If this is how you leave your gear sitting after the show, you’re a dummy.

What up Bedhead?

Settle down, Lothario.

Saturday mornings are for concrete

Stay warm butts

Getting down to the end of my nostalgia trip for the year. These are my great-grandparents, Henry and Mary Janz. They survived the Great War as children, the Russian Revolution and Russian Civil War as teenagers, got married at 21 and 19 respectively, and came to Canada under the harshest of conditions. They were together for 64 years, and I’m lucky I got to know them really well as a kid.

The fck is sharing size?

Got it back down to the wood. Luckily I had a summery shuffle in the buds. Jayhawks, Woods, Petty...beauty.

Ok What The Truck, trust is back. G’job 👍 Now take a breather. You earned it.

Game 2. To the wire. I have first count. Grandma ain’t winning this one.

Grandma had me pretty much beat, she needed 3 to peg out but I stopped her. Unfortunately, my 16 hand (my best hand this game) only got me to 119. Grandma wins the hat and glasses this time.

This is the street I grew up on, in a trailer park a quarter mile north of Number One Highway. There are more trees, and a lot more trailers out there now.
I can’t remember wanting anything more than to go on adventures somewhere else when I was there, and I certainly have. Happy you’re all out there doing good and creative work, taking care of your own young families, and showing everyone how to party.
A lot of us had a weird year (personally, plenty of mental weirdness), and some of us had the best years ever. That’s how we do it. I suppose the idea is, we keep on doing it. Thanks for being around buds, yer beauties.

If you ever drive through Portage La Prairie and don’t stop at Jimmy’s for burgers, you’re nuts. Jimmy’s been making the best burgers in town since before I can remember. And he’s always had pinball games in there. Jimmy’s is right next to the Highway Pentecostal Church, where kids used to say the lord spoke directly to them, and people spoke in tongues. That has nothing to do with the quality of Jimmy’s burgers though. It’s the chilli and patty seasoning he puts on them that makes them so good. 🍔

Since I’m heading home to ma’s house, which despite my best efforts brings on a certain nostalgia, I’ll drop a few stories on y’all here the next few days.

This is a truck stop on the south end of Saskatoon where in 2002, after having run my dumb transient ass out of Alberta, and been directed out of the house I’d been staying in in Saskatoon by an estranged father who was wary of a young longhair staying with his 20ish year old daughters and estranged wife, I was dropped off here to find my way.
First trucker I talked to was heading straight to Winnipeg, albeit with severe cooling system troubles. We limped the rig to three blocks from my mom’s house in Portage La Prairie overnight.
Mom, not exactly enthused to see her Kerouac-fetishizing son at her door, refused to let me in the house, didn’t even let me see my dog, and said, “there’s nothin for you in this town, go the fuck back to Alberta.” Tough love. And appreciated, in retrospect. I haven’t lived anywhere but Alberta since.

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