The mice will play when the cat is away...

Mrs ERJ and I are a team.

There are some things she does exceptionally well and I am joyful to let her do them.

When a call comes out for succor and aid and it requires getting on an airplane and batting about to distant corners of our great country, I am very happy to let Mrs ERJ do it.

On the other hand, if it requires driving down country roads at 3:00 AM in the morning, I get the nod. "Yeah though I walk through the valley of death and narcolepsy, I fear no evil for God is my rod and my staff and I have a large mug of caffeinated beverage."

So we got a call. Mrs ERJ is enroute, pending flight delays for weather. I will be left to my own devices.

I was left with strict instructions to not step in front of speeding cars nor to attempt to stop bullets nor locomotives.

Nor am I to use a ladder without somebody nearby to call 9-1-1. Ditto for chainsaws.

I already pissed off one of my kids. I was tasked with transporting it to the mechanic and communicating issues. After it was fixed, my dear, loving child asked what was wrong with it.

I texted my child "Jesse replaced the turbo-encabulater and of course he had to also change out the Thorvald thrust plates. Then he had to recalibrate the micro-crenulated encoders."

"Jesse said the bracket for the turbo-encabulater is pretty rusty and thin, so you have to drive it gently or he won't be able to fix it next time."

I suspect my kid showed it to one of his mechanically inclined buddies after he was unable to make sense of the gobbly-gook.

My kid did not appreciate my humor.

With Mrs ERJ not able to keep an eye on me, I have been scheduling field-trips to keep me busy.