Last night my father-in-law dropped by to visit. He received a notice from the county that his fireplace wood is stacked improperly--it's not. He went on to say that the neighbors across the street need to trim some oak trees that have gotten too large.
FIL: Some of those trees are over 200 years old.
Wife: Yeah, they were there when I was a kid.
Me: Then they must be over 300 years-old.
LOL, my wife laughed harder than anyone, but I got smacked on the arm anyway. I feel I was set up. I mean, 200 years ago James Madison was the US president and people were making fun of Dolley. Of course the trees were there when my wife was a kid! I was set up--how could I NOT make a silly comment in that situation? But there are no laws against that sort of entrapment, so I'll have to do something expensive this weekend to make amends for my silliness...maybe flowers.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Go-between
When I was 15 I bought my dad's old car. I gave him the money and "my" car stayed in a little parking area off the driveway that I created with old railroad ties. Once in a while I started it to keep the battery charged and one day I decided to drive it--just up an down our dirt road. After a few trips back and forth, I decided to practice parking. My brother came home and made the mistake of parking next to me. Yep, I hit his car the next time I tried to back out. The rear quarter panel was just pushed in a little. We popped it back out and you couldn't tell anything had happened. It was spotless.
I told my mom what happened and we had the weirdest conversation:
Mom: How could you drive that car after all of your father's lectures???
Me: He never told me not to practice driving the car.
Mom: Well, he lectured me and I was supposed to tell you!!!
Hahaha, being a go-between sucks. Have you ever been in that position? Having a friend or family member make you responsible for telling someone else they can't do something?
PS - My dad never heard about the accident. But 2 months later I came home from a friend's house to see my car was gone. Dad got an offer from an uncle and sold it to him. I asked for my money back, but instead he got me another car--one that I could only drive for 20 minutes before it overheated. I had to keep a 5-gallon can of water in my trunk. It was a brilliant move on his part. I couldn't get very far from home in 20 minutes. LOL!
I told my mom what happened and we had the weirdest conversation:
Mom: How could you drive that car after all of your father's lectures???
Me: He never told me not to practice driving the car.
Mom: Well, he lectured me and I was supposed to tell you!!!
Hahaha, being a go-between sucks. Have you ever been in that position? Having a friend or family member make you responsible for telling someone else they can't do something?
PS - My dad never heard about the accident. But 2 months later I came home from a friend's house to see my car was gone. Dad got an offer from an uncle and sold it to him. I asked for my money back, but instead he got me another car--one that I could only drive for 20 minutes before it overheated. I had to keep a 5-gallon can of water in my trunk. It was a brilliant move on his part. I couldn't get very far from home in 20 minutes. LOL!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Shameful Secret
Secrets have a way of leaking out and embarrassing us, so it’s better that we share whatever it is ourselves (like Victoria’s Secret—that she’s a dude, but who cares? It doesn't matter.) My secret revolves around the e-mail account I use for blogging. It’s actually my junk mail account…the one I use to order things on-line.
But that’s not the secret, I’m sort of working my way up to that. You see, my wife is a… well, she was a… she was a Farmville addict. Wow, it feels good to finally admit that! Yes, she was & I enabled her, as you will see.
While she’s better now, I’m still living with the shameful aftermath. The big thing, involving my e-mail address, is that it links to a fake Facebook page. My wife needed a new neighbor to be able to expand her farm, but couldn’t find one. I set up a page for a Mr. Wilson (I rooted for Mr. Wilson against Dennis the Menace) just so I could give her that extra neighbor. While I did admire Mr. Wilson in my youth (and more than once said the words “rotten kids” while I was still one myself—a kid, not rotten), I am not Mr. Wilson. Besides, I really like kids (except the rotten ones). ;P
I never intended to mislead anyone. I only did it to support my wife--she appreciated it! It never occurred to me anyone would even see that FB page until Mr. Wilson received his first FB friend request. It was from a blogger—others followed. I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t do that again.
I’ll do other, new, stupid things, but not that.
But that’s not the secret, I’m sort of working my way up to that. You see, my wife is a… well, she was a… she was a Farmville addict. Wow, it feels good to finally admit that! Yes, she was & I enabled her, as you will see.
While she’s better now, I’m still living with the shameful aftermath. The big thing, involving my e-mail address, is that it links to a fake Facebook page. My wife needed a new neighbor to be able to expand her farm, but couldn’t find one. I set up a page for a Mr. Wilson (I rooted for Mr. Wilson against Dennis the Menace) just so I could give her that extra neighbor. While I did admire Mr. Wilson in my youth (and more than once said the words “rotten kids” while I was still one myself—a kid, not rotten), I am not Mr. Wilson. Besides, I really like kids (except the rotten ones). ;P
I never intended to mislead anyone. I only did it to support my wife--she appreciated it! It never occurred to me anyone would even see that FB page until Mr. Wilson received his first FB friend request. It was from a blogger—others followed. I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t do that again.
I’ll do other, new, stupid things, but not that.
Friday, August 20, 2010
My Sisters' Keeper
If you’ve looked to the left on this page, you may have read that I wanted a little sister—someone to watch out for. While I didn’t get one, I did have opportunities to help my older sisters in various ways. Of course, I could have done without helping one sister move a piano in and out of 4 different apartments, but that’s part of being a brother.
The first time I had to look after my sisters came during the summer I was 10. I've always had trouble getting to sleep, so when I was tiny, I'd sneak out of my room to watch TV from behind my father’s chair. When I got a little older (10) on non-school nights I would just stay up--and keep quiet. My dad got used to me staying up with him. Sometimes he would talk about the actors or director of the movie and eventually I could ask questions without that reminding him I should be in bed. =)
When my sisters were on dates, he waited up for them. But some nights he was too tired and told me to do it. Dad gave me specific instructions. When the boy’s car pulled in the driveway I was supposed to turn on the front light. One minute later I was to go out on the front sidewalk and look at the car until the sister came in the house. My sisters hated that! But when I had a job to do, I did it. Once I found out it annoyed my sisters, it actually became a really fun job. I remember standing on the sidewalk, arms folded in front me, just staring at the boys. That was so much fun! One boy offered me a quarter to go inside. A quarter? I was insulted for myself and my sister. LOL! I want to thank RML for reminding me about this story.
Edit: I removed a "PS" about a scary experience I had helping one of my sisters--it made the post too long.
The first time I had to look after my sisters came during the summer I was 10. I've always had trouble getting to sleep, so when I was tiny, I'd sneak out of my room to watch TV from behind my father’s chair. When I got a little older (10) on non-school nights I would just stay up--and keep quiet. My dad got used to me staying up with him. Sometimes he would talk about the actors or director of the movie and eventually I could ask questions without that reminding him I should be in bed. =)
When my sisters were on dates, he waited up for them. But some nights he was too tired and told me to do it. Dad gave me specific instructions. When the boy’s car pulled in the driveway I was supposed to turn on the front light. One minute later I was to go out on the front sidewalk and look at the car until the sister came in the house. My sisters hated that! But when I had a job to do, I did it. Once I found out it annoyed my sisters, it actually became a really fun job. I remember standing on the sidewalk, arms folded in front me, just staring at the boys. That was so much fun! One boy offered me a quarter to go inside. A quarter? I was insulted for myself and my sister. LOL! I want to thank RML for reminding me about this story.
Edit: I removed a "PS" about a scary experience I had helping one of my sisters--it made the post too long.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Heavenly Conversation
Don't worry, I'm not hearing voices and I didn't have an odd dream (not lately). The "conversation" was something I witnessed in a cloud on my way home last night. It was after dark and the sky was completely clear, except for one big fluffy cloud.
One side of the cloud would flash and then a few seconds later another section would light up, as if it was answering back. Back and forth and then electricity would crackle across the cloud making it look like one of those plasma globes you can touch and have the electricity follow your touch.
It was so beautiful. To me it looked like a spirited conversation was taking place in the cloud.
PS: I have a question for the guys out there. When you were little, did you watch your mom put on make-up? I did and I just wondered if that's a common story--it seems like it would be. My mom didn't go out much, so when she did it was interesting to watch her sit at her vanity and "play" dress-up. I'd go back and forth between lying on her bed and standing next to her, watching in the mirror. A video post by MizzJ sparked this fond memory. =)
.
One side of the cloud would flash and then a few seconds later another section would light up, as if it was answering back. Back and forth and then electricity would crackle across the cloud making it look like one of those plasma globes you can touch and have the electricity follow your touch.
It was so beautiful. To me it looked like a spirited conversation was taking place in the cloud.
PS: I have a question for the guys out there. When you were little, did you watch your mom put on make-up? I did and I just wondered if that's a common story--it seems like it would be. My mom didn't go out much, so when she did it was interesting to watch her sit at her vanity and "play" dress-up. I'd go back and forth between lying on her bed and standing next to her, watching in the mirror. A video post by MizzJ sparked this fond memory. =)
.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Summer Vacation
Who doesn’t love summer vacation??? Whether you’re a child or adult (or a little of both), it’s something to look forward to. I’m not taking one this year, but I’m managing to have fun anyway. When I was in school, just having it end was good enough, we didn’t have to go anywhere.
Each year during my dad’s summer vacation we would have a Sunday picnic next to the creek on his family farm; we’d spend an evening at a carnival (funnel cake and cotton candy!!!) and then we would spend one day at a beach on the Chesapeake Bay. The rest of the week we would do one special project or another. One year we built a carport, other years we shingled the roof, dug ditches, cleared a field on the farm for what would be our annual garden, built a shed, well, you get the idea.
But this isn’t a story about work. It’s about the annual trip to the beach on which I learned to swim. It was a great little beach. There were trees close to the sand, so you could sit in the shade on cool grass if you got overheated and there were inexpensive arcade games and skee ball. Aunts and uncles joined us and they usually had good food to share.
The year I turned seven, my dad took me out in the water to teach me to swim. He pointed to an aunt floating by (on her back) to convince me that people float and swimming was easy. He held me at water level so I could practice—I was working my arms and legs like a pro. He kept saying he wasn't going to let go, I should just keep paddling and kicking.
Then, of course, he let go. I kept working my arms and legs…and I sank like a stone. Within seconds I could feel that I had settled on the bottom and I was lying on my dad’s feet. But I was still paddling and kicking!!! Eventually he reached down to pull me up and we made our way back to shore. I took my little bucket and shovel to a different part of the beach so he wouldn’t get the idea to try to teach me to swim a second time—I thought he was just a little too slow pulling me up that first time. LOL!
Okay, so this wasn’t really a story about me learning to swim…it was a story about me learning to sink! But I was REALLY good at it. ;P
I did learn to swim two years later, in a pool. Soooo, how did you learn to swim???
Each year during my dad’s summer vacation we would have a Sunday picnic next to the creek on his family farm; we’d spend an evening at a carnival (funnel cake and cotton candy!!!) and then we would spend one day at a beach on the Chesapeake Bay. The rest of the week we would do one special project or another. One year we built a carport, other years we shingled the roof, dug ditches, cleared a field on the farm for what would be our annual garden, built a shed, well, you get the idea.
But this isn’t a story about work. It’s about the annual trip to the beach on which I learned to swim. It was a great little beach. There were trees close to the sand, so you could sit in the shade on cool grass if you got overheated and there were inexpensive arcade games and skee ball. Aunts and uncles joined us and they usually had good food to share.
The year I turned seven, my dad took me out in the water to teach me to swim. He pointed to an aunt floating by (on her back) to convince me that people float and swimming was easy. He held me at water level so I could practice—I was working my arms and legs like a pro. He kept saying he wasn't going to let go, I should just keep paddling and kicking.
Then, of course, he let go. I kept working my arms and legs…and I sank like a stone. Within seconds I could feel that I had settled on the bottom and I was lying on my dad’s feet. But I was still paddling and kicking!!! Eventually he reached down to pull me up and we made our way back to shore. I took my little bucket and shovel to a different part of the beach so he wouldn’t get the idea to try to teach me to swim a second time—I thought he was just a little too slow pulling me up that first time. LOL!
Okay, so this wasn’t really a story about me learning to swim…it was a story about me learning to sink! But I was REALLY good at it. ;P
I did learn to swim two years later, in a pool. Soooo, how did you learn to swim???
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
That's not me.
My posts have been too long lately, so this is just a quicky about how people, including parents, can have the strangest ideas about who we are. For example, this brief discussion took place on the drive home from my dad's family's farm--we planted a huge garden there every year. I was exhausted after digging up sweet potatoes, but still curious. I think I was 13 or 14.
Me: Dad, what crop is that? {planted in the field next to the road}
Dad: What? A country boy like you doesn't recognize winter wheat???
Me: Winter wheat? I didn't even know I was a country boy!!!
Sure, I know the difference between a leaf rake, a garden rake and a potato rake...and how to use a pick, an axe, and old-fashioned scythe to clear a plot of land, but I don't know nearly enough to qualify as a country boy. Maybe my dad was confused by the flannel shirts I wore as a teenager. =)
Do friends or people in your family see you as someone you're not???
PS - What my dad called "sweet potatoes", I'm 85% sure were yams. So even though he grew up on a farm, I'm not sure how much of a country boy he was either!!!
Me: Dad, what crop is that? {planted in the field next to the road}
Dad: What? A country boy like you doesn't recognize winter wheat???
Me: Winter wheat? I didn't even know I was a country boy!!!
Sure, I know the difference between a leaf rake, a garden rake and a potato rake...and how to use a pick, an axe, and old-fashioned scythe to clear a plot of land, but I don't know nearly enough to qualify as a country boy. Maybe my dad was confused by the flannel shirts I wore as a teenager. =)
Do friends or people in your family see you as someone you're not???
PS - What my dad called "sweet potatoes", I'm 85% sure were yams. So even though he grew up on a farm, I'm not sure how much of a country boy he was either!!!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Motivation II: Tough Luck Harper
Motivation. It comes in different forms. It can come from a desire to do better for ourselves or our loved ones, the spirit of competition, wanting to prove a point, and sometimes it can be, well, not as positive!
I did reasonably well in school, but didn't get really serious about it until college--except for one history class. The material stuck with me even though at first I didn't study. As long as I listened to the teacher’s lectures, I had no problem with the Friday tests.
One Friday halfway through the semester, the teacher started laughing when I turned in my test. I asked him if I did badly. He said, "No, haven't you noticed? Miss Harper wants to finish first, but you keep beating her." I had not noticed. The following week, it was the same thing, except her frustration started to boil over. She wanted my paper graded right away because she didn't believe I could have finished so quickly. I scored 100 and she was MAD. I had a chat with her after class:
Me: Why do you care about my tests?
Harper: I study every night and you’re not…, well, you play sports. You don’t even take your books home.
Me: There’s a book for this class???
Harper: Grrrrrrr
I said that about the book just to aggravate her—I thought she was about to say I wasn’t smart. It was on!!! She was right about one thing, I usually didn’t take my books home. I decided she needed to learn a lesson and I started putting effort into making sure she stayed frustrated. Evil, right?
I began studying for the weekly test to make sure I finished as quickly as possible. Every week I rushed through the test and waited to hear that little groan from Harper. But I never appeared to hurry or appeared to care that I finished first—I was very blasé about it all because I thought that would aggravate her even more. It did.
Harper had to settle for second every week. If she had not been so insulting, I would have held back one week to ease her frustration. But because of her attitude, I dismissed the thought and allowed karma to do its thing through me.
Bonus Story: Another motivation moment came when my parents signed me up for tennis lessons. I was the least experienced player in the group. Most of boys had been playing for years--and the kid with the pastel sweater over his shoulders had been playing his whole life.
But then the coach decided her girls’ class would join us once a month for mixed doubles. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that motivated me—I didn’t want to look bad in front of the girls. I was teamed with a young lady who was an average player. Together we crushed our opponents and won the mini-tournament that day—beating sweater boy in the finals. He couldn't believe it. His reaction to losing was worse than Harper's—and that motivated me more.
PS: I believe in being gracious in victory and defeat. It's great to learn the lesson about trying your best and being humble. But it's also kind of fun to help certain other people learn that lesson too!!! I don't like poor sports...or arrogance.
I did reasonably well in school, but didn't get really serious about it until college--except for one history class. The material stuck with me even though at first I didn't study. As long as I listened to the teacher’s lectures, I had no problem with the Friday tests.
One Friday halfway through the semester, the teacher started laughing when I turned in my test. I asked him if I did badly. He said, "No, haven't you noticed? Miss Harper wants to finish first, but you keep beating her." I had not noticed. The following week, it was the same thing, except her frustration started to boil over. She wanted my paper graded right away because she didn't believe I could have finished so quickly. I scored 100 and she was MAD. I had a chat with her after class:
Me: Why do you care about my tests?
Harper: I study every night and you’re not…, well, you play sports. You don’t even take your books home.
Me: There’s a book for this class???
Harper: Grrrrrrr
I said that about the book just to aggravate her—I thought she was about to say I wasn’t smart. It was on!!! She was right about one thing, I usually didn’t take my books home. I decided she needed to learn a lesson and I started putting effort into making sure she stayed frustrated. Evil, right?
I began studying for the weekly test to make sure I finished as quickly as possible. Every week I rushed through the test and waited to hear that little groan from Harper. But I never appeared to hurry or appeared to care that I finished first—I was very blasé about it all because I thought that would aggravate her even more. It did.
Harper had to settle for second every week. If she had not been so insulting, I would have held back one week to ease her frustration. But because of her attitude, I dismissed the thought and allowed karma to do its thing through me.
Bonus Story: Another motivation moment came when my parents signed me up for tennis lessons. I was the least experienced player in the group. Most of boys had been playing for years--and the kid with the pastel sweater over his shoulders had been playing his whole life.
But then the coach decided her girls’ class would join us once a month for mixed doubles. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but that motivated me—I didn’t want to look bad in front of the girls. I was teamed with a young lady who was an average player. Together we crushed our opponents and won the mini-tournament that day—beating sweater boy in the finals. He couldn't believe it. His reaction to losing was worse than Harper's—and that motivated me more.
PS: I believe in being gracious in victory and defeat. It's great to learn the lesson about trying your best and being humble. But it's also kind of fun to help certain other people learn that lesson too!!! I don't like poor sports...or arrogance.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Motivation I
With the right motivation, we can do almost anything. I've had some experience with this and would like to share a few stories. This first one happened when I was playing soccer.
Every day before practice, the coach had us stretch and warm up. Then he made us run a mile. It was competitive and I'm happy to say I routinely finished second. Normally that wouldn't be great, but the guy who always won was a long-distance runner on the school track team. He had won the county meet the year before and was only on the soccer team to keep in shape. I was happy.
Then one day in science class, I heard a girl (Harper) ask a fellow from my team why he lets me beat him. He explained everyone tried, but that "Rick wins." {No one considered the track fellow part of the race} Harper then pointed out that "Rick only comes in second" and started teasing me about losing to such a thin (as most long-distance runners are!) fellow. She teased me pretty good about it. So I decided I would beat that guy.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you probably know what happened next. Every day I pushed harder and harder. Then, finally, it was our last day of practice. That would be my day! When it was time to run, the track man and I were both practically sprinting from the start, both determined to win. He pulled ahead. I pulled even, back and forth. He was ahead of me coming into the last 50 yards. I gave it everything I had and pulled even again. Then he gave it everything he had and he beat me! Again!!! You thought I was going to win, didn't you??? Me too! LOL, but not this time. That scrawny kid beat me every day, fair and square. Not my favorite memory! ;P
But it was a good lesson. That's how it goes sometimes. We can do our best, do everything right, and still not come out on top. But we keep trying because each day brings a new opportunity to succeed.
PS - That "scrawny kid" won both the county and the state championships that year. I felt good about that--maybe I helped motivate him.
Oh, there will be another story about Harper. She motivated me in the classroom too.
Every day before practice, the coach had us stretch and warm up. Then he made us run a mile. It was competitive and I'm happy to say I routinely finished second. Normally that wouldn't be great, but the guy who always won was a long-distance runner on the school track team. He had won the county meet the year before and was only on the soccer team to keep in shape. I was happy.
Then one day in science class, I heard a girl (Harper) ask a fellow from my team why he lets me beat him. He explained everyone tried, but that "Rick wins." {No one considered the track fellow part of the race} Harper then pointed out that "Rick only comes in second" and started teasing me about losing to such a thin (as most long-distance runners are!) fellow. She teased me pretty good about it. So I decided I would beat that guy.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you probably know what happened next. Every day I pushed harder and harder. Then, finally, it was our last day of practice. That would be my day! When it was time to run, the track man and I were both practically sprinting from the start, both determined to win. He pulled ahead. I pulled even, back and forth. He was ahead of me coming into the last 50 yards. I gave it everything I had and pulled even again. Then he gave it everything he had and he beat me! Again!!! You thought I was going to win, didn't you??? Me too! LOL, but not this time. That scrawny kid beat me every day, fair and square. Not my favorite memory! ;P
But it was a good lesson. That's how it goes sometimes. We can do our best, do everything right, and still not come out on top. But we keep trying because each day brings a new opportunity to succeed.
PS - That "scrawny kid" won both the county and the state championships that year. I felt good about that--maybe I helped motivate him.
Oh, there will be another story about Harper. She motivated me in the classroom too.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A piece of me....August 2010
It's time again for the monthly game started by Toothfairy (I hope she's doing well). The game is to share info about yourself on the 1st Sunday of every month. So, this month....
I like: That we're inching closer to fall, my favorite season. Also, the local baseball team has had a great week--beating good teams, which they are not.
I don't like: That this summer has been dominated by work. We're short-handed and management seems to be going out of their way to create extra work--some of which is pointless.
Me: How will this report be helpful?
Director: We'll know when it's done.
Me: But whether it equals X or Y, neither will change A!
Director: I won't know that until I see the report.
Me: But, they can't change A. It's impossible!
Director: You have to prove that.
Me: {It's basic accounting. How did you get your job?}
I want you to know: I think my wife takes Bejeweled Blitz too seriously. One of her friends gets insanely high scores once in a while and my wife will say "someone else must have played for her!" It doesn't matter. It's just a fun little game that should help release a little stress. The important thing is that I will rise up out of the ashes of the weekly resetting of scores to crush my enemies. So yeah, I don't know why my wife is so competitive. LOL!
I've planned: To save a certain amount of money before the holiday spending season starts.
I want to say to someone special: You make each day better, so stick around!!! :)
I like: That we're inching closer to fall, my favorite season. Also, the local baseball team has had a great week--beating good teams, which they are not.
I don't like: That this summer has been dominated by work. We're short-handed and management seems to be going out of their way to create extra work--some of which is pointless.
Me: How will this report be helpful?
Director: We'll know when it's done.
Me: But whether it equals X or Y, neither will change A!
Director: I won't know that until I see the report.
Me: But, they can't change A. It's impossible!
Director: You have to prove that.
Me: {It's basic accounting. How did you get your job?}
I want you to know: I think my wife takes Bejeweled Blitz too seriously. One of her friends gets insanely high scores once in a while and my wife will say "someone else must have played for her!" It doesn't matter. It's just a fun little game that should help release a little stress. The important thing is that I will rise up out of the ashes of the weekly resetting of scores to crush my enemies. So yeah, I don't know why my wife is so competitive. LOL!
I've planned: To save a certain amount of money before the holiday spending season starts.
I want to say to someone special: You make each day better, so stick around!!! :)
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