I was going to do a serious post today, but there has been so much "B-love" expressed in blogworld lately I decided to share my B-story instead. Have a great weekend folks!!!
I stay calm around bees because my grandpa told me bees don’t want to sting you. If you stay calm and leave them alone, they will leave you alone. It works pretty well. I was good at the “calm” part, but once in a while I seemed to have trouble leaving them alone.
One of the most painful incidents was made worse because of who witnessed it—the cute, young mom next door. Her house was at the top of the hill between my house and my grandmother’s. I was 15, she was 26. Anyway, weeds were growing out of the sandstones piled along our dirt road across from my grandma’s store. The weeds scratched against my dad’s car and he wanted me to trim them using our whip—you swing it like a golf club, it has a blade on the end.
I started the job one afternoon after school. As I walked up the hill I noticed my neighbor was on her porch. She waved and said hi, I tried to look cool--I had a little crush on her. I started cutting weeds at the bottom of the hill on the other side and worked my way back towards my neighbor...I mean my house! Soon I was half-way up the hill. I could see the top of her house, but I couldn’t see the porch yet because of the hill. I was not playing full attention to what I was doing. I didn’t think anything about the few bees I saw—bees were common in my neighborhood. I didn’t notice they were ground bees (yellow jackets). It never occurred to me there might be a nest in the rocks. I just kept swinging!
Before I knew it, I heard the unmistakable sound of many bees taking flight. One stung my arm and a few got under my shirt. Here's how my neighbor described (the next day) what she saw happen.
Her: What happened to you yesterday? I heard you yell and then I saw your whip fly up in the air over the top of the hill. Then I saw your shirt fly up in the air….and then you came running up over the hill waving your arms all around your head. It looked like you had gone crazy!!!
Me: Umm, I found a bee’s nest and they found me.
Her: ahahahahahaha!!!! Oh, I’m sorry, I hope you’re okay. But you just looked ridiculous!
Me: {dejected}
What hurt more, getting stung 5 times or looking like an idiot in front of miss cute (well, mrs. cute)? Definitely getting stung hurt more!!! But both were caused by stupid bees. BEEEEEEEESSSS!!!!! Argh!
Bonus Story – In case you have nothing else to do at the moment.
The first time I was stung by a bee I deserved it--and I was punished horribly! I was sitting under trees next to our driveway—I was 6 or 7. I noticed the birdhouse in one of the trees had been taken over by bees. I had been playing with an old, broken toy train car and I wondered if I could throw it and hit the birdhouse from where I was sitting. I nailed it. I was so proud…until I saw the bees rushing out of the bird house! I ran, but not fast enough—if only I had been wearing magic sneakers. LOL! I was lucky to only be stung once, but it was in a bad place. A private place. The place where a teacher would have gone to jail if he touched me there. It was horrible and all my own fault! My grandpa shared his wisdom while I was recovering from the painful, painful swelling. I do my best to LEAVE BEES ALONE!!!
Do you remember the first time you were stung???
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Magic Shoes (it's short!)
Whenever I got a new pair of sneakers when I was little, I felt like they gave me the power to run super fast! I would go outside and let them work their magic. At times I almost felt like I was flying, like my little legs wouldn’t be able to keep up with the shoes. I loved that feeling!
During one of my mad dashes across the yard, something was headed the opposite direction. A huge bumble bee! That thing nailed me right in the middle of my forehead. Thanks to my reckless speed at that moment and the bee’s speed, I got knocked on my butt. My head stopped when the bee hit me, but my feet kept going…so of course I ended up on the ground. I didn't get stung, but I did end up with a big, red welt on my head from the impact.
I really wish I could find that same brand of shoe today to see if they're still magical. But I'm not sure where my parents got them. Please let me know if you see them anywhere. My brothers called them "maypops", but the designer label stamped on the bottom read “irregular”. Is that an Italian designer??? LOL!!!
PS - I usually don't post 2 days in a row, but I had to prove I could keep a story brief!!! =)
Edit: Hand-me-downs circulated around my extended family--mostly my mom's side of the family. But when my folks did buy clothes and shoes for us, they went to a store that sold factory rejects--items that had defects. They were always marked "irregular" somewhere.
During one of my mad dashes across the yard, something was headed the opposite direction. A huge bumble bee! That thing nailed me right in the middle of my forehead. Thanks to my reckless speed at that moment and the bee’s speed, I got knocked on my butt. My head stopped when the bee hit me, but my feet kept going…so of course I ended up on the ground. I didn't get stung, but I did end up with a big, red welt on my head from the impact.
I really wish I could find that same brand of shoe today to see if they're still magical. But I'm not sure where my parents got them. Please let me know if you see them anywhere. My brothers called them "maypops", but the designer label stamped on the bottom read “irregular”. Is that an Italian designer??? LOL!!!
PS - I usually don't post 2 days in a row, but I had to prove I could keep a story brief!!! =)
Edit: Hand-me-downs circulated around my extended family--mostly my mom's side of the family. But when my folks did buy clothes and shoes for us, they went to a store that sold factory rejects--items that had defects. They were always marked "irregular" somewhere.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Two go out, one comes back
To me this is a funny story, but my wife is both amused and appalled by it. For an all-american-boy-next-door, I think I had some unusual experiences growing up. But who knows, maybe they're not that unusual.
But before I get started...ever see the old Bugs Bunny cartoons? In one, Daffy is trying to scare Elmer Fudd's dog so he won't go hunting with Elmer. He tells him hunting is when "two go out and one comes back, if you know what I mean!" {Elmer is going to shoot the dog}
As I've mentioned, we lived in a semi-rural area, a block or so from my grandma's tiny store. To get to our house you had to go up the hill on the dirt road next to her store and we lived at the bottom of the hill on the other side. Every once in a while she would call us at night because she thought someone was breaking into her store (she lived behind it). We didn't waste time calling the police. Instead my dad would load his handgun and tell me to put on my shoes--we were going into action!
My dad's SWAT tactics were always the same. We'd walk to the top of the hill together and then he would sneak around the back of the store on the right side (in the dark) while my job was to walk down the road (towards the only street light in the neighborhood) kicking rocks, making noise and drawing the attention of the criminals.
As I walked down the road, I always thought about that cartoon--two go out, one comes back. It worried me a little. There I was walking towards Lord knows what and thinking that even if there were no criminals, my crazy father might shoot me by accident. I'm happy to say that never happened. I'm also happy to say I never drew the attention of anyone actually dangerous (at least not related to this story). A few times there were teenagers outside the store and they ran when they heard me coming. But we did encounter one interesting drunk fellow. I was only 11 or 12, but I knew he had to be drunk because he kept pointing at me and yelling, "I'm not afraid of that young buck! I'm not afraid of you." That was crazy! For one thing, I was 12 at the most. More importantly, my father was standing there pointing a gun at him!!! But his big concern was making sure I knew he wasn't afraid of ME???? He had to be drunk.
Unfortunately, the next day the guy followed me from the bus stop in his car, yelling at me the whole time. I ignored him until we got to the railroad tracks. Then I walked down the tracks (away from my house) to put some distance between us. Being the weird little kid that I was, I headed away from my house because I didn't want him to see where I lived. I saw him again the next day, but this time he just slowed down enough to ask "are we cool?" I shrugged and said "sure" and then never saw him again. Thank goodness!
That was an interesting experience. Okay, it was weird! But it changed nothing. The next time my grandmother called in a possible 3-11 (burglary in progress), my dad and I queued up the SWAT theme music (jk about that part) and sprang into action!
PS - In case you are wondering where my older brothers were during these adventures--me too!!! Somehow I always ended up being my dad's partner in crime fighting. Maybe I should have titled this post "Starsky & Hutch" instead!!! LOL
But before I get started...ever see the old Bugs Bunny cartoons? In one, Daffy is trying to scare Elmer Fudd's dog so he won't go hunting with Elmer. He tells him hunting is when "two go out and one comes back, if you know what I mean!" {Elmer is going to shoot the dog}
As I've mentioned, we lived in a semi-rural area, a block or so from my grandma's tiny store. To get to our house you had to go up the hill on the dirt road next to her store and we lived at the bottom of the hill on the other side. Every once in a while she would call us at night because she thought someone was breaking into her store (she lived behind it). We didn't waste time calling the police. Instead my dad would load his handgun and tell me to put on my shoes--we were going into action!
My dad's SWAT tactics were always the same. We'd walk to the top of the hill together and then he would sneak around the back of the store on the right side (in the dark) while my job was to walk down the road (towards the only street light in the neighborhood) kicking rocks, making noise and drawing the attention of the criminals.
As I walked down the road, I always thought about that cartoon--two go out, one comes back. It worried me a little. There I was walking towards Lord knows what and thinking that even if there were no criminals, my crazy father might shoot me by accident. I'm happy to say that never happened. I'm also happy to say I never drew the attention of anyone actually dangerous (at least not related to this story). A few times there were teenagers outside the store and they ran when they heard me coming. But we did encounter one interesting drunk fellow. I was only 11 or 12, but I knew he had to be drunk because he kept pointing at me and yelling, "I'm not afraid of that young buck! I'm not afraid of you." That was crazy! For one thing, I was 12 at the most. More importantly, my father was standing there pointing a gun at him!!! But his big concern was making sure I knew he wasn't afraid of ME???? He had to be drunk.
Unfortunately, the next day the guy followed me from the bus stop in his car, yelling at me the whole time. I ignored him until we got to the railroad tracks. Then I walked down the tracks (away from my house) to put some distance between us. Being the weird little kid that I was, I headed away from my house because I didn't want him to see where I lived. I saw him again the next day, but this time he just slowed down enough to ask "are we cool?" I shrugged and said "sure" and then never saw him again. Thank goodness!
That was an interesting experience. Okay, it was weird! But it changed nothing. The next time my grandmother called in a possible 3-11 (burglary in progress), my dad and I queued up the SWAT theme music (jk about that part) and sprang into action!
PS - In case you are wondering where my older brothers were during these adventures--me too!!! Somehow I always ended up being my dad's partner in crime fighting. Maybe I should have titled this post "Starsky & Hutch" instead!!! LOL
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Ironing
The subject of ironing has been coming up recently with various friends. Does anyone enjoy ironing??? I've gotten to be pretty good with an iron, but I don't like doing it. I am very thorough when I iron. I'm probably not the fastest and, again, I don't like to iron, but if I've got a job to do I want to do it right!
I ironed some when I was a kid, but I acquired most of my skill after I got married. My wife used to do all of my ironing. Then I made a mistake. It was a joke. I thought I was being cute! But it was a big mistake. As I mentioned, my wife used to do my ironing, but there was sort of an on-going problem with it. She sometimes started a new crease in my pants legs rather than following the old one--and then there would be two, one sharp and one rounded.
One cold December afternoon she had just finished ironing a pair of pants for me. When I looked at them I saw three creases. A cute little joke popped into my head. I said, "Gosh honey, there are so many creases in these pants, no one will know which direction I'm walking."
I expected the usual laugh and a slap on the arm. Instead I got the unbearable quivering lip. I really can't handle that. I apologized, but it was too late. She said she was "never going to iron again". She is a woman of her word. She has NOT ironed anything for me since then.
Hmmmmm, somehow the story seems incomplete. Oh yeah! I forgot to mention she was 8.5 months pregnant at the time. That’s probably what made her over-react. So unreasonable . Women! {sigh} Haha!
But seriously, I learned my lesson. I don’t complain about what other people do for me unless it’s something I’m willing to do myself—forever!!! LOL!
I ironed some when I was a kid, but I acquired most of my skill after I got married. My wife used to do all of my ironing. Then I made a mistake. It was a joke. I thought I was being cute! But it was a big mistake. As I mentioned, my wife used to do my ironing, but there was sort of an on-going problem with it. She sometimes started a new crease in my pants legs rather than following the old one--and then there would be two, one sharp and one rounded.
One cold December afternoon she had just finished ironing a pair of pants for me. When I looked at them I saw three creases. A cute little joke popped into my head. I said, "Gosh honey, there are so many creases in these pants, no one will know which direction I'm walking."
I expected the usual laugh and a slap on the arm. Instead I got the unbearable quivering lip. I really can't handle that. I apologized, but it was too late. She said she was "never going to iron again". She is a woman of her word. She has NOT ironed anything for me since then.
Hmmmmm, somehow the story seems incomplete. Oh yeah! I forgot to mention she was 8.5 months pregnant at the time. That’s probably what made her over-react. So unreasonable . Women! {sigh} Haha!
But seriously, I learned my lesson. I don’t complain about what other people do for me unless it’s something I’m willing to do myself—forever!!! LOL!
Friday, January 22, 2010
First Kisses
First kisses! Well, I guess technically there can only be one first kiss. But there are different types of kisses, so when I look back I remember more than one "first". I have a handful of “first kisses” I’d like to blog about between now and Valentine’s Day. I won’t go into detail about the types now, I’ll just hit them one-by-one over the next few weeks.
First Kiss #1 was a very innocent event. I was 6 and her name was, well, let’s say it was Monica. During recess a group of my classmates got together to play an odd game on the playground. Monica was the queen and I was the king. She and I sat in the grass under a shade tree and had guards and attendants standing on both sides of us. When the bell rang for us to go back to class, the group decided the king and queen needed to kiss. So we gave each other a simple peck on the lips. Very innocent.
But in true male fashion, afterwards I didn’t know who started the game, how I got to be king, or who decided we needed to kiss. I was completely clueless!
PS - A lot has changed since then...I'm not quite that naive anymore. Some guys were never that naive!!!
First Kiss #1 was a very innocent event. I was 6 and her name was, well, let’s say it was Monica. During recess a group of my classmates got together to play an odd game on the playground. Monica was the queen and I was the king. She and I sat in the grass under a shade tree and had guards and attendants standing on both sides of us. When the bell rang for us to go back to class, the group decided the king and queen needed to kiss. So we gave each other a simple peck on the lips. Very innocent.
But in true male fashion, afterwards I didn’t know who started the game, how I got to be king, or who decided we needed to kiss. I was completely clueless!
PS - A lot has changed since then...I'm not quite that naive anymore. Some guys were never that naive!!!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Crazy Driver
I had an interesting drive to the train station this morning. As I approached my exit, an 18-wheel tractor-trailer was trying to merge onto the highway. I couldn't move into the left lane because a white truck was next to me and I needed to take the next exit anyway. The big-rig started merging into my lane like I wasn't there. I hit the gas and just barely escaped a terrible accident.
My feeling of relief didn't last long. The tractor-trailer (I'll just call it the truck from now on) driver blew his horn and gave me the finger. He almost crushed me between his truck and the white one and he was mad at ME!!! 95% of the time I would laugh at that. Most of my friends can't imagine me losing my temper, but....I don't feel well today and had no patience. I blew my horn and saluted him back.
It's not a good story, but unfortunately it didn't end there. When I took the exit for the train station, the truck took the same exit. That made sense--the train station is in a warehouse district. I passed the first warehouse, so did the truck. I passed ALL the warehouses, so did the truck. For some reason I started to feel amused--I was curious to see if he would take his rig into the train station parking lot. I turned into the train station, so did the truck.
Instead of parking where I normally do, I headed into the compact car parking lot. That crazy truck driver followed me in. A huge tractor-trailer in a compact car lot!!! Anyway, my plan was to loop around the lot and go out the other side--the truck was stuck in the lot and I could easily drive away to another station. But instead I hit the brakes. My momentary amusement at the truck driver's stupidity was replaced by anger. Who did that jerk think he was? Almost causing an accident and then stalking me!!! No way!
As I jumped out of my car, he hopped out of his rig. Have you ever seen "The Green Mile"? Remember the big guy with the weird powers? Yeah, him. The truck driver was his size. A freakin mountain. Time must slow down in moments like that, because I remember chuckling in my head and thinking, "Oh, my dad is going to be SO proud I died on my feet!!!"
But really I was still angry and it showed. I'm not sure why, maybe it was because of that thought about my dad, but as I charged towards the fellow I said, "Okay buddy, you tried to kill me once this morning, would you like to try again?" That startled him. He looked confused. He claimed the white truck waved him over and I cut him off. I corrected him.
You know what happened next? He apologized and shook my hand! Less than 60 seconds after being mad (crazy) enough to follow me into that lot, he was apologizing!!! I don't understand that. Maybe I startled him out of his anger. After we shook hands, I drove to the full-size parking lot and headed for the train. As the train pulled out I could see the truck still stuck in the parking lot...inching forward, inching back, inching forward, inching back. I'm sure he had a lot of explaining to do about why he was so late getting wherever he was supposed to be this morning. LOL!
Maybe someone should call the Pope because it's a small miracle this story ends with an "LOL". I'll get back to my usual light-hearted posting style next time (maybe about bees!), but this was just such an odd experience I wanted to write about it.
My feeling of relief didn't last long. The tractor-trailer (I'll just call it the truck from now on) driver blew his horn and gave me the finger. He almost crushed me between his truck and the white one and he was mad at ME!!! 95% of the time I would laugh at that. Most of my friends can't imagine me losing my temper, but....I don't feel well today and had no patience. I blew my horn and saluted him back.
It's not a good story, but unfortunately it didn't end there. When I took the exit for the train station, the truck took the same exit. That made sense--the train station is in a warehouse district. I passed the first warehouse, so did the truck. I passed ALL the warehouses, so did the truck. For some reason I started to feel amused--I was curious to see if he would take his rig into the train station parking lot. I turned into the train station, so did the truck.
Instead of parking where I normally do, I headed into the compact car parking lot. That crazy truck driver followed me in. A huge tractor-trailer in a compact car lot!!! Anyway, my plan was to loop around the lot and go out the other side--the truck was stuck in the lot and I could easily drive away to another station. But instead I hit the brakes. My momentary amusement at the truck driver's stupidity was replaced by anger. Who did that jerk think he was? Almost causing an accident and then stalking me!!! No way!
As I jumped out of my car, he hopped out of his rig. Have you ever seen "The Green Mile"? Remember the big guy with the weird powers? Yeah, him. The truck driver was his size. A freakin mountain. Time must slow down in moments like that, because I remember chuckling in my head and thinking, "Oh, my dad is going to be SO proud I died on my feet!!!"
But really I was still angry and it showed. I'm not sure why, maybe it was because of that thought about my dad, but as I charged towards the fellow I said, "Okay buddy, you tried to kill me once this morning, would you like to try again?" That startled him. He looked confused. He claimed the white truck waved him over and I cut him off. I corrected him.
You know what happened next? He apologized and shook my hand! Less than 60 seconds after being mad (crazy) enough to follow me into that lot, he was apologizing!!! I don't understand that. Maybe I startled him out of his anger. After we shook hands, I drove to the full-size parking lot and headed for the train. As the train pulled out I could see the truck still stuck in the parking lot...inching forward, inching back, inching forward, inching back. I'm sure he had a lot of explaining to do about why he was so late getting wherever he was supposed to be this morning. LOL!
Maybe someone should call the Pope because it's a small miracle this story ends with an "LOL". I'll get back to my usual light-hearted posting style next time (maybe about bees!), but this was just such an odd experience I wanted to write about it.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Car Insurance
Several weeks ago my wife reminded me of a weird story about my family! Our car insurance bill arrived in the mail and that prompted her to say, "Gee, I still can't believe....
After I got my driver's license I was eager to buy a car so I wouldn't have to walk back and forth to work. My parents agreed to put the car in their name to help lower the insurance rate for me, but told me it would still be expensive since I was a teenager. That car was a real clunker, but that's another story.
Every six months my mom would tell me how much I owed and I forked it over. It was a lot. But I was a teenager, that's just how it works.
A few years and a few cars later I got married. We decided to get a car in both our names and traded in the one I had registered to my parents. The "new" car was a lot newer than the trade-in, so I knew the insurance would be a lot higher--but I hoped being married would offset that somewhat. We went to the insurance agent's office to fill out the forms for our policy and the agent shocked me. He gave us a quote that was less than half of what I paid for the older car. I asked him why it was soooo much less.
The agent checked my parent's file for the information on my old car. He asked me again how much I had been paying. When I told him the amount he started laughing--and then he apologized. The amount I had been paying my parents to cover my share of their car insurance bill was actually the ENTIRE bill--for my car and both of theirs!!! Later my dad explained his thinking--he said having me on their policy raised the rate on all 3 cars, so he thought it was fair for me to pay the entire bill.
I wonder if he collected the entire amount from my brothers too before they struck out on their own??? LOL!!!
After I got my driver's license I was eager to buy a car so I wouldn't have to walk back and forth to work. My parents agreed to put the car in their name to help lower the insurance rate for me, but told me it would still be expensive since I was a teenager. That car was a real clunker, but that's another story.
Every six months my mom would tell me how much I owed and I forked it over. It was a lot. But I was a teenager, that's just how it works.
A few years and a few cars later I got married. We decided to get a car in both our names and traded in the one I had registered to my parents. The "new" car was a lot newer than the trade-in, so I knew the insurance would be a lot higher--but I hoped being married would offset that somewhat. We went to the insurance agent's office to fill out the forms for our policy and the agent shocked me. He gave us a quote that was less than half of what I paid for the older car. I asked him why it was soooo much less.
The agent checked my parent's file for the information on my old car. He asked me again how much I had been paying. When I told him the amount he started laughing--and then he apologized. The amount I had been paying my parents to cover my share of their car insurance bill was actually the ENTIRE bill--for my car and both of theirs!!! Later my dad explained his thinking--he said having me on their policy raised the rate on all 3 cars, so he thought it was fair for me to pay the entire bill.
I wonder if he collected the entire amount from my brothers too before they struck out on their own??? LOL!!!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Three Day Weekend!
Oh the fun I'm having!!! Don't read this unless you are prepared to deal with deep feelings of jealously!
Okay, regular readers have probably already figured out from those two sentences that I'm not doing anything fun this weekend. But I am doing something necessary. My wife is sick. So this is a weekend of trips to the grocery and drug stores, cooking, cleaning-up, timing medicine, and trying to hold the place together until she's better--which I hope is soon because I'm starting to feel a little funky.
But I can't be sick on Monday. It's the holiday! Plus, I need to be well so I can replace the refill valve assembly on the toilet in our hallway bathroom. It stopped working tonight. I really know how to rock a holiday!!! I would ask for volunteers to come help, but that didn't turn out so well the last time--but I appreciate that your hearts were in the right place!!! LOL
I hope you all had good weekends, that you're healthy, and that things will be quiet in my office on Tuesday!
Okay, regular readers have probably already figured out from those two sentences that I'm not doing anything fun this weekend. But I am doing something necessary. My wife is sick. So this is a weekend of trips to the grocery and drug stores, cooking, cleaning-up, timing medicine, and trying to hold the place together until she's better--which I hope is soon because I'm starting to feel a little funky.
But I can't be sick on Monday. It's the holiday! Plus, I need to be well so I can replace the refill valve assembly on the toilet in our hallway bathroom. It stopped working tonight. I really know how to rock a holiday!!! I would ask for volunteers to come help, but that didn't turn out so well the last time--but I appreciate that your hearts were in the right place!!! LOL
I hope you all had good weekends, that you're healthy, and that things will be quiet in my office on Tuesday!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Bad, but fun
I used to camp out with some of the other boys in the neighborhoood during the summer. It was usually in a field near my parent's house (between our apple trees and the woods) or in a field on the other side of the train tracks. That one was surrounded by woods.
My parents said no to one camp out, but later changed their minds. I think I had been in trouble for something one of my brothers did. Anyway, I could camp out that night...but I didn't tell my friends. I wanted to surprise them.
They were in the field across the tracks. Only part of the field was actually clear and they always pitched their tents in the clearing, near the edge of the uncleared portion. I set-up my homemade tent at the other end of the field, behind a stand of milkweeds. They couldn't see it there. Next I gathered up about 10 "gumballs" (round prickly balls that fall out of certain oak trees) and put just a little gasoline on them.
As expected, my friends eventually built a campfire. (Their dad had dug a little pit and put cinder blocks around three sides of it for safety.) When I saw the fire going, I started crawling towards them through the weeds with my little jar of surprises. I stopped just outside the ring of light from their fire. My friends were telling stories, trying to scare each other, but it wasn't working.
I pulled out the first gumball and threw it towards the fire. I missed. Someone heard it land, but the sound was dismissed. I launched the second one, but missed again. They all heard that one land and it spooked them. They were worried about what might be out there in the dark. It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud and getting caught. The third time was the charm. I threw the gumball directly into the fire pit and the flames shot up pretty high. That scared the crap out of them! All of my friends jumped up and half of them wanted to run home--one thought they were being haunted!
At that point I couldn't hold it in any more. I started laughing so hard I couldn't talk. The campers were so relieved they forgot to be mad at me. I let them each take a turn throwing a gumball into the fire and then we got down to the serious business of camping--toasting marshmallows, talking about girls, and occassionally sharing something meaningful that we never would have talked about at home, in school or in the light of day.
It was a nice night!
My parents said no to one camp out, but later changed their minds. I think I had been in trouble for something one of my brothers did. Anyway, I could camp out that night...but I didn't tell my friends. I wanted to surprise them.
They were in the field across the tracks. Only part of the field was actually clear and they always pitched their tents in the clearing, near the edge of the uncleared portion. I set-up my homemade tent at the other end of the field, behind a stand of milkweeds. They couldn't see it there. Next I gathered up about 10 "gumballs" (round prickly balls that fall out of certain oak trees) and put just a little gasoline on them.
As expected, my friends eventually built a campfire. (Their dad had dug a little pit and put cinder blocks around three sides of it for safety.) When I saw the fire going, I started crawling towards them through the weeds with my little jar of surprises. I stopped just outside the ring of light from their fire. My friends were telling stories, trying to scare each other, but it wasn't working.
I pulled out the first gumball and threw it towards the fire. I missed. Someone heard it land, but the sound was dismissed. I launched the second one, but missed again. They all heard that one land and it spooked them. They were worried about what might be out there in the dark. It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud and getting caught. The third time was the charm. I threw the gumball directly into the fire pit and the flames shot up pretty high. That scared the crap out of them! All of my friends jumped up and half of them wanted to run home--one thought they were being haunted!
At that point I couldn't hold it in any more. I started laughing so hard I couldn't talk. The campers were so relieved they forgot to be mad at me. I let them each take a turn throwing a gumball into the fire and then we got down to the serious business of camping--toasting marshmallows, talking about girls, and occassionally sharing something meaningful that we never would have talked about at home, in school or in the light of day.
It was a nice night!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Bats!!!
One summer evening I received an emergency phone call from my girl friend (now my wife). She was very upset. She swore she saw a bat in her parent’s basement, but no one would believe her—that’s why it was an emergency. She needed someone to believe!!! I promised to come over after dinner.
I went straight to the basement when I got there. I searched and searched. Nothing! She wasn’t happy, but what more could I do? We sat on a couch (with the light off) in the basement to visit for a while--her mom was right around the corner doing laundry (under a very bright light). GF couldn’t talk about anything except the bat. I told her I believed her, but I just didn’t see it.
Then she thought she heard something in the furnace room. Her imagination was getting the best of her. That door was shut. A bat couldn’t have flown in there. To make her happy, I threw the door open and turned on the light. Before I could say, “See, there’s nothing in there”, I realized there was a good sized bat hovering at eye level right in front of me. Of course it immediately swooped towards me!
The bat flew back and forth—always towards me!!! As I bobbed, weaved, and dodged I heard both my GF and her mother screaming, “What should I do? What should I do?” Without taking my eyes off the bat, I told them to stay in the laundry room—under the very bright light. With that crazy bat chasing me, I worked my way around the basement turning on lights until it was completely lit everywhere except one dark, empty room. My plan worked, the bat went in that room and I shut the door.
After we all stopped laughing and caught our breath, we tried to figure out what to do. I voted for one of them to go in and get it. But I lost the vote 2-to-1. Before opening the door I armed myself with a sword and shield (a broom and dust pan). When we opened the door the bat was again just hovering. This time I was ready. I knocked it out of the air with the broom and then caught him between the broom and the dust pan. I took it out to the middle of their yard and threw it up into the air as best I could—then I ran back into the house as fast as I could!!! I didn’t want that crazy bat swooping at me again.
No bats were harmed in creating this little bit of our family history—well, we didn’t find it in the yard the next day at least! LOL
This post was inspired by russ, who recently saw a bat indoors.
I went straight to the basement when I got there. I searched and searched. Nothing! She wasn’t happy, but what more could I do? We sat on a couch (with the light off) in the basement to visit for a while--her mom was right around the corner doing laundry (under a very bright light). GF couldn’t talk about anything except the bat. I told her I believed her, but I just didn’t see it.
Then she thought she heard something in the furnace room. Her imagination was getting the best of her. That door was shut. A bat couldn’t have flown in there. To make her happy, I threw the door open and turned on the light. Before I could say, “See, there’s nothing in there”, I realized there was a good sized bat hovering at eye level right in front of me. Of course it immediately swooped towards me!
The bat flew back and forth—always towards me!!! As I bobbed, weaved, and dodged I heard both my GF and her mother screaming, “What should I do? What should I do?” Without taking my eyes off the bat, I told them to stay in the laundry room—under the very bright light. With that crazy bat chasing me, I worked my way around the basement turning on lights until it was completely lit everywhere except one dark, empty room. My plan worked, the bat went in that room and I shut the door.
After we all stopped laughing and caught our breath, we tried to figure out what to do. I voted for one of them to go in and get it. But I lost the vote 2-to-1. Before opening the door I armed myself with a sword and shield (a broom and dust pan). When we opened the door the bat was again just hovering. This time I was ready. I knocked it out of the air with the broom and then caught him between the broom and the dust pan. I took it out to the middle of their yard and threw it up into the air as best I could—then I ran back into the house as fast as I could!!! I didn’t want that crazy bat swooping at me again.
No bats were harmed in creating this little bit of our family history—well, we didn’t find it in the yard the next day at least! LOL
This post was inspired by russ, who recently saw a bat indoors.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Photo Tag
I was tagged by the lovely Christy of Wongturn. Thank you Christy! If you have not had the pleasure yet, you should visit her blog.
The rules of the Tag:
1. Open your 1st Photo folder.
2. Scroll to the 10th photo.
3. Post the photo and the story behind it.
4. Tag 5 or more people.
The picture I found has no direct connection to me, but it's an interesting look back in time. The pic is one of many family photos we discovered in a cabinet at my father-in-law's house. He doesn't know exactly when it was taken, but he guessed it was during the 1920s. He and his wife's families both come from the area where the states of Virginia, Tennessee, and Kentucky border each other--it's part of the Appalachian Mountains. It's coal country.
My in-laws grew up there, but moved to DC after getting married. Thank goodness! If they had not moved, I would be a confirmed bachelor for life. My wife asks me fairly often what my life would be like if we hadn't met and that's what I tell her. I also tell her I would have a LOT of money!!! LOL
The rules of the Tag:
1. Open your 1st Photo folder.
2. Scroll to the 10th photo.
3. Post the photo and the story behind it.
4. Tag 5 or more people.
The picture I found has no direct connection to me, but it's an interesting look back in time. The pic is one of many family photos we discovered in a cabinet at my father-in-law's house. He doesn't know exactly when it was taken, but he guessed it was during the 1920s. He and his wife's families both come from the area where the states of Virginia, Tennessee, and Kentucky border each other--it's part of the Appalachian Mountains. It's coal country.
My in-laws grew up there, but moved to DC after getting married. Thank goodness! If they had not moved, I would be a confirmed bachelor for life. My wife asks me fairly often what my life would be like if we hadn't met and that's what I tell her. I also tell her I would have a LOT of money!!! LOL
I randomly tag Mel, Megan, Blair, Stiletto Girl, eQ, and any of you wonderful bloggers who can stand another photo-related assignment!!! =)
PS - Just FYI, my kids don't resemble any of these ancestors from their mom's side of the family.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Thursday Fiction
This is a big change for me--writing fiction. But today I'm in the mood to be silly and I was motivated to write a follow-up to my last post.
Mining Journal - Day 4
The entrance to the diamond mine (under the kitchen table) is clear again after yesterday's cave-in. I suspected the tower of empty Pizza Hut boxes wasn't stable, but I didn't think it would collapse into the mine. I need to order PapaJohn's next time.
The mining work is harder than expected. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken it on alone. Sleep evades me--I keep seeing the herd of dust bunnies I wiped out. The first few were an accident, but when the survivors mounted a counter-attack, I had no choice but to turn the Dustbuster on them. I don't think I'll ever get their dust off my conscience--or out of my sinuses.
No sign of diamonds yet. My spirits are sagging. Today things went from bad to worse. Bandit ate my HotPocket and I'm almost out of Dr. Pepper. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that Toothfairy is organizing a team of bloggers to assist me. Got to hold on!
Hurry bloggers, HURRY!!! (It's finders keepers on the diamonds.)
Things will be okay when they get here. They will have no problem clearing out the neighboring dust bunny herds (mopping/dusting), re-stocking provisions (grocery shopping), and making sure the mine is kept clear of those dumb pizza boxes (take out garbage). It would be great if one of them would handle the cooking. And, of course, someone to do laundry, someone to iron, someone to do dishes, etc., etc., etc. Hmmm, if one of the bloggers will pay the bills, I wouldn’t even need any diamonds!!!
Once they arrive I can just go laze on the couch. Hurry bloggers! LOL!
PS - This crazy post might make a LITTLE sense if you've read the Toothfairy's comment on my previous post--Return of the Stone. Rather than objecting or defending myself, I thought I might as well write something silly in response! =)
Mining Journal - Day 4
The entrance to the diamond mine (under the kitchen table) is clear again after yesterday's cave-in. I suspected the tower of empty Pizza Hut boxes wasn't stable, but I didn't think it would collapse into the mine. I need to order PapaJohn's next time.
The mining work is harder than expected. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken it on alone. Sleep evades me--I keep seeing the herd of dust bunnies I wiped out. The first few were an accident, but when the survivors mounted a counter-attack, I had no choice but to turn the Dustbuster on them. I don't think I'll ever get their dust off my conscience--or out of my sinuses.
No sign of diamonds yet. My spirits are sagging. Today things went from bad to worse. Bandit ate my HotPocket and I'm almost out of Dr. Pepper. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that Toothfairy is organizing a team of bloggers to assist me. Got to hold on!
Hurry bloggers, HURRY!!! (It's finders keepers on the diamonds.)
Things will be okay when they get here. They will have no problem clearing out the neighboring dust bunny herds (mopping/dusting), re-stocking provisions (grocery shopping), and making sure the mine is kept clear of those dumb pizza boxes (take out garbage). It would be great if one of them would handle the cooking. And, of course, someone to do laundry, someone to iron, someone to do dishes, etc., etc., etc. Hmmm, if one of the bloggers will pay the bills, I wouldn’t even need any diamonds!!!
Once they arrive I can just go laze on the couch. Hurry bloggers! LOL!
PS - This crazy post might make a LITTLE sense if you've read the Toothfairy's comment on my previous post--Return of the Stone. Rather than objecting or defending myself, I thought I might as well write something silly in response! =)
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Return of the Stone
The most amazing thing happened yesterday. My wife found the diamond that had fallen out of her engagement ring! Well, she found A diamond--under our kitchen table. It can't be the same one. The one I bought was small--I was only 18 at the time, but the one she found is even smaller! It just couldn't be the same one. That one's been gone over a month--it couldn't have stayed on our floor that long! There can only be one answer. There's a diamond mine under our kitchen table.
If I'm off-line for a while you'll know that I'm prospecting for diamonds (get ready Acutelife).
Or perhaps cleaning!!! Any volunteers??? LOL
If I'm off-line for a while you'll know that I'm prospecting for diamonds (get ready Acutelife).
Or perhaps cleaning!!! Any volunteers??? LOL
Saturday, January 2, 2010
A piece of me...January Twenty-Ten
This is a monthly game started by Notes from the Toothfairy. The game is to share info about yourself on the 1st Sunday of every month. This month....
I like: to sing in the shower
I don't like: to be heard singing in the shower
I want you to know: this morning I sang "Impossible Dream"
I've planned: to cross bridges as a come to them and not worry about it beforehand
I want to say to someone special: Happy birthday Stinkerbell!!!
Did you hear about the failed "frog" holiday record? It was going to be like the Xmas caroles barked by dogs. Sadly they tried to record the "12 days of Xmas" and it was too long. The frogs croaked!
One of my nephews told me that joke!
I like: to sing in the shower
I don't like: to be heard singing in the shower
I want you to know: this morning I sang "Impossible Dream"
I've planned: to cross bridges as a come to them and not worry about it beforehand
I want to say to someone special: Happy birthday Stinkerbell!!!
Did you hear about the failed "frog" holiday record? It was going to be like the Xmas caroles barked by dogs. Sadly they tried to record the "12 days of Xmas" and it was too long. The frogs croaked!
One of my nephews told me that joke!
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