A Birthday and a betrayal!!!

Happy Birthday, applepie!

Like the Toothfairy, she's been MIA from blogworld recently. Hopefully that means she's having a great time out in the real world.

About the betrayal. I had a little mishap on this cake and I'm afraid it will be the last one. My elves ran away!!! Since the cake is rather large, they asked me to help get it from the tree into the house. While my hands were full, they scattered. The little ingrates!!!

I provided them with precision instruments, top quality ingredients, and gave them plenty of lead time before a deadline. And you should see the tree I kept them locked in, it's so beautiful! How did they repay me? They made a break for it the first chance they got!!! {sigh}

Oh well, I can always just get cakes from ColdStone, Carvel, Baskin-Robbins and 1-800-Bakery.com. Did this make you hungry too???

Edit: Apologies to folks who tried to comment earlier, I don't know how this got set to "no comments"!

Ghost Stories - The Goodbye

This is my last ghost story. But it’s not really a ghost story, more of a spiritual experience.

Late one May, the Smithsonian sent me to Kingsport, TN to perform random test counts during an inventory. Since my wife’s family is from that area, I decided to take her and our daughter with me—our son was not yet a glimmer in my eye! We planned to spend a week after the inventory visiting my wife’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandfather. We loaded our car with way too much baby junk (our girl was 16 months) and headed south.

The inventory went well and other than my wife’s cousin breaking her pinky toe when she got up to offer me a drink, the first few days in Kingsport were uneventful. The cousin’s husband thought my hotel was in a sketchy neighborhood and offered to loan me a “piece” (a handgun) the first night, but I declined. As I said, things were uneventful. Then Saturday arrived.

Saturday afternoon we received a message, relayed by my wife’s ditsy sister to an aunt, that my mom was in the hospital. We thought it was a miscommunication. My mother-in-law was very ill, but my mom was fine—my wife had just spoken with her Friday afternoon. Thanks to poor reception and bad timing, we had a hard time reaching anyone. Finally around dinner time I got in touch with my sister’s husband. He claimed not to have details, but said I should, “Come home, now!”

We loaded the car, purchased lots of caffeine to carry us through the night, and headed for home. After several hours, my watch started to annoy me. So I removed it and slipped it over the gear shift. I was a little anxious, but confident everything would be fine.

Then without any warning, I had a vision (while driving). I seemed to be hovering over the trunk of my car, looking down on the back seat and the back of my own head. In the vision, the backseat was empty (in reality it was packed with junk). Suddenly, a figure started to rise up out of the seat. It was a robed figure, similar to the stereotypical image of death. My view changed, now I was seeing it from the left side of the driver (me). No face showed from under the hood. It brought its hands up and placed them on my shoulders from behind. I seemed to actually feel something touch me. That made me shiver and the vision was gone. I didn’t know what I had just experienced, but it seemed important. I checked my watch and saw that it was 10:20pm (Saturday night).

To wrap this up, my mom had a cerebral aneurysm Saturday morning. She was still breathing on her own when the nurse made her rounds at 10:00pm Saturday night. But by 11:00pm she was not--my vision occurred at 10:20pm.

Officially, she passed away on Monday morning…the last Monday in May. But I suspect she was gone earlier. I was her only child not at the hospital on Saturday night. I think the vision was my mom reaching out to tell me goodbye. Yes, I know that sounds crazy. Some may think I dozed off for a second and the timing was just a weird coincidence. That would be a logical explanation. But I felt wide awake and drove another 5 hours after that. I think it was an experience beyond the realm of logic.

Run Rick! Run!

I used to play softball at night with one of my brothers. We played outfield—I was in left-center and he was in right–center. One game we only had nine players, so we went with 3 outfielders. It wasn’t a problem, that’s how it should be anyway. Since I was younger, my brother and I switched places. I played right-center…shifted a little more over towards right, but there was a big gap between me and the foul line.

Anyway, we were at bat for a long time in the 3rd inning and I guess I got a little cold—it was October. WHen we took the field for the 4th inning, the first batter hit a ball down the right field line. I had a long run to cut-off the ball and needed to hustle. When I took that first, quick step, I pulled a muscle in my right thigh (quadriceps maybe???). It wasn’t too bad, but painful enough that I had to focus and remember next time to push off with my left leg, regardless of which direction I needed to run. A few batters later a guy (or was it a girl?) hit the ball to the same place the first batter did. I remembered to push off on my left leg—and promptly pulled a muscle in that thigh!!!

When the inning ended I had to sort of hop-step from side to side because both my thighs were sore from the muscle pulls. You might think that as I shuffled in from the outfield my teammates would have been concerned for my injuries or admonishing me to remember to stretch between innings. But I didn’t get any of that. Instead, my brother and the rest of the guys were laughing to the point of tears.

The guy who ran the team came over and tried to ask if I was okay, but couldn’t get the words out through the laughter. Finally he managed to say I walked in from the outfield the same way his son walked when he had a full diaper.

Despite the pain, I had to laugh too.

PS - After that I went out and bought a pair of bicycle shorts and always remembered to stretch to make sure that didn't happen again.

Homeless Birds and People

Well, my birds are now homeless. There were no nestlings, so I sealed the attic vents with a heavy-duty wire mesh and cleared one of their nests--I need to buy plywood to put on attic floor beams to be able to reach the other nest.

The homeless birds reminded me of a ridiculous encounter I had a few years ago with two homeless men. To me it's a funny story. Maybe a better word for it is "weird." I know homelessness is a huge problem with many unfortunate causes. I'm not sharing the story to make fun of the gentleman, just sharing it because it was so strange.

The job I had at the time required really long hours. Some nights I'd get home well after bedtime. Occasionally I forgot to take care of little chores. Halfway to work one morning I realized my car was almost out of gas--right in the middle of one of the worst neighborhoods in DC. There was a gas station coming up on the right, so I pulled in to get a few gallons. As I got out of the car, two homeless men approached me for money. I told them to let me take care of the gas first and I'd think about it. Sometimes I'm a soft-touch and sometimes not, depends on the vibe I get from the person.

One homeless man walked over to the pump island and sat down. The other one stayed next to me, yelling at me to give him money. I started the pump and then one of my good/bad habits kicked in. I started talking to the guy. I told him no one was going to give him money for yelling at them, that he should be more like his buddy and give people space. He continued yelling. Our "conversation" went on like that until the pump finished. Then I gave the calm fellow a few dollars. The "yeller" didn't like that and decided to stand in front of my car until I gave him money too. I put my hands behind my head and settled in for little mid-commute nap.

Finally he moved and I pulled forward to get out of the station, but I had to wait for a car in front of me to pull out first. It took forever. As I sat waiting, my friend returned. When I looked over he was kissing my window. He was really going to town! He put a little tongue into it...then a LOT of tongue. Next thing I knew, his one tooth was scraping the window. It was horrible and sad, but it was so ridiculous it was funny. Traffic finally cleared and I waved goodbye!

Later I felt bad for two reasons. First, I could have split the money between the two men--there was no reason to try to make a point to a crazy person. Waste of time. Second, I had not washed my car in a long time--another little chore I'd forgotten while living my job. My car was filthy!!! I looked for that guy every morning when I drove past the station, but I never saw him again. I wanted to stop and give him a little money--and it would have been nice to know if he was okay after his encounter with the window.

Bats, Bees...and now Birds!

I've wrangled a bat out of a house and been chased by bees outside my house. It was just a matter of time before birds got into the act.

Early Sunday evening I heard a strange noise in the attic. I grabbed a flashlight, pulled down the retractable attic stairs, and went up for a look. My dog has always been afraid of the attic, so he trotted out of the room as soon as my intentions were clear.

Once in the attic, I could see the black head of a starling looking back at me from inside the roof overhang. The bird had poked through the screen covering the vent opening and made a nest. I wanted to see if there were babies in the nest, but as I moved closer, the bird hopped from the overhang into the attic. It took a few steps towards me and then flew towards the other end of the house. I think it was trying to lead me away from the nest.

With a bird on the loose, I needed something I could use to catch it. I headed down the stairs and next thing I know the bird flies down after me. Now it's in my family room!!! I put my son in the laundry room and shut the door, meanwhile the bird is swooping, I'm ducking, and our dog did NOT come to investigate. He was hiding!!!

Soon the bird flew towards the front window and another bird (its mate?) was doing it's best to hover outside the window. The bird stayed between the window and the curtains while I ran for a towel. When I came back, the bird swooped at me again and then back to the window. I caught it in the towel and wrapped it up. I told the bird it would be stew next time, then released it outside with a tossing motion. It flew across the street like a bullet.

The emergency was over, but not the problem. On Saturday I have to cover the opening from the attic to the overhang so no more birds can fly around up there. Then, if there are no babies, I'm going to cover the vents in the overhang with a heavy duty wire mesh. If there are babies...I'll have to wait to seal out the momma bird. Hopefully that will be the end of my problems related to flying creatures.

Uh oh! Did I remember to let my son out???


PS - Another expression you don't hear much: One-trick pony

Natural Ability

Around the age of 12, I thought it would be very cool to be a lumberjack. My dad frequently had us cutting down trees and sawing them up. It was hard work, but fun. To be a lumberjack, I knew I needed to acquire new skills. I needed to be able to balance on a log in the water and make it spin--all the lumberjacks in movies did that! But there was no body of water close enough and large enough to allow me to practice (thank goodness). I needed another option.

While walking through the woods one day, I found what I needed--a 55 gallon drum (a barrel). I rolled/carried it to a clearing and went to work. I climbed up on the drum...and fell almost immediately. This was going to be harder than I thought! I climbed up again and fell again, and again, and again, and again, and...well, you get the idea. Every day after school I went to the clearing and practiced. Eventually, I could stand up on the drum and roll it from one end of the field to the other, up hills, and down, through gullies, anywhere.

Did I become a lumberjack? No. But the effort was not a waste of time. For one thing, it was great for my sense of balance. But better than that, it allowed me to hustle my friends. LOL!

One day a group of us were playing in the woods and ended up in the clearing. I innocently mentioned that I bet I could stand on the drum and roll it farther than any of them--this sort of boast is common among boys. After we all agreed to the bet, I used the drum like a steam-roller to crush them!!! It was so much fun! (I was 12)

But as is true with any skill we work to acquire, being better at it than someone else is usually just a matter of having had more practice. But not always, some people are just "naturals" at certain activities. I'm still looking for something I don't have to work at to be good at.

Is there something you were great at right away?

Eating doesn't count! ;P

Take me out of the ballgame...

Baseball player Ken Griffey got his name in the news this week for reportedly being asleep when he was needed to pinch hit. That reminded me of the last time I saw him play, 3 years ago. My wife got tickets to the game through her company—3rd base side of home plate, on the aisle, six rows from the front. Much better seats than I'm used to.

During the 3rd inning, six obnoxious college-age guys slid down into the seats next to and behind me. The Nats (my team) were awful, attendance was low, and lots of people moved to better seats once the game got under way—no big deal, except these guys were really obnoxious. They yelled non-stop, heckled every batter and pitcher on BOTH teams…they even heckled the batboys. Heckling is part of sports, but they were ruining the game for everyone (especially the dad and young son in front of me). I got fed up. So I struck up a conversation with the ringleader.*

Me: Why the “heck” did you guys have to sneak into seats near me?
Ringleader: Oh no, the dude hates us.
Me: Hey, if you were 3 sections away I’d probably love you, but no one wants to listen to that crap non-stop—we can’t even hear the vendors when they come by. Besides, you should keep a low profile when you sneak into seats.

Next thing you know, we’re bonding. They shared brats they’d grilled at home, we’re fist-bumping on good plays, and I’m advising them on the best way to heckle—keep your powder dry and use it on targeted players, not EVERYONE (it’ll have more of an impact, just my opinion). They decided they hated Ken Griffey and started letting him have it when he was in the on-deck circle, waiting to hit. They were relentless.

My wife noticed Ken talking to a guard and within 30 seconds two ushers and a guard were asking to see my new friends’ tickets. They pretended they couldn’t find them. Since they showed no tickets at all, they got thrown out of the stadium. I’ve wondered if they wished they had kept a lower profile. But they probably didn’t mind. They missed the last 3.5 innings of a game, but they will always have the story about the day an aging superstar had them thrown out.

I’m sure they’re enjoying a laugh about Griffey sleeping during a game.


*I know, I know, it sounds like I have confrontation issues, but I don’t. Just the other day a guy on the subway was “drumming” very loudly on the seat in front of him. I looked around and no one seemed to mind, so I closed my eyes and surrendered to the beat! LOL