It is a bright sunny day. I should be out back in our woodlot geezering with my neighbor John.
An acquaintance some time ago mistook me for someone else, but then suggested that us guys with beards look alike, so no wonder even a close friend gets it wrong once in a while. I suspect that someone observing us from a distance might not be able to distinguish one old geezer from another. Having gotten this far in life, and still finding myself quite capable of putting in long afternoons working up firewood, misidentifications of that sort bother me little. In fact, it fits the bill just fine, since I am happiest embedded in the woodwork anyway. We have put in quite a few hours hauling logs, cutting them into drums, splitting them up and finding creative ways to store and stack it all.
I recently had a woodshed built. My aim all along had been to do it myself, but as the wood piled up and my procrastination demons persisted in their inimitable way, I farmed the job out. It got done in about a day and a half. I started crabbing about not having a proper shed several years ago. Suffice it to say, the in-house power broker, the wife, made it clear the time had come to either put up or shut up. I am at that point in my life, edging perilously close to entering my eighth decade, when farming stuff out is not at all as threatening to my manhood as it used to be. Although, being thought of as manly has never much appealed to me anyway. Most guy stuff strikes me as either childish, silly or a perverse combination of both. I prefer getting through time my own way.
Geezering with a neighbor is about as close as I will ever come to male bonding! We are at that time in our lives when we feel quite comfy dishing out homespun wisdom. Geezering is a private, very sacred activity. Consequently, spilling the beans is not appropriate. However, any geezer worth his salt should be able to imagine an infinite variety of topic worthy of geezer scorn or humor.