Monday, December 29, 2008
When she tried to load it in her phone, it didn't work. She took it to church and tried it on three other phones and a PDA. Nothing. So I gave her the other one I bought (I bought it, but forgot for who, we were going to use it in my future phone). Nothing on that one either.
I took them back today and explained to the employee at the customer service counter what was going on. At first she told me that since it had been more than 14 days since purchase, there was nothing that could be done. I then asked her, "If you buy something for a Christmas present, how can you return it within 14 days, if Christmas is more than 14 days after Black Friday, when I purchased it?" "Well," she said, since it was a Christmas present, I guess we can give you your money back." "Can't I exchange them for ones that work?" I asked. "No, I'll refund your money."
Yes, I did get a refund, but I would rather have two working memory cards. I don't think I will be going to Staples any time in the near future, regardless of how good the Black Friday sales are. As a rare man that loves to shop, this is a big step for me. But when you're not satisfied, you're not satisfied.
Alienating a customer who pays cash, "That was easy!"
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
When we pulled into the parking lot, we saw this:
A. New driver coming to celebrate getting his (or her) drivers license.
B. Someone who was celebrating before, and now needs to get something to eat.
C. Someone who was afraid of getting their vehicle scratched.
D. A complete anti-social punk who will do as he pleases.
E. Someone who is REALLY big, and needed the extra room to get out of the truck.
F. All of the above.
We had a 20-25 minute wait to be seated. While we were waiting, a group of three came in and told the seating person "Harvey, party of four." I looked at my wife puzzled for a moment, and then it came to me. If you are an old movie buff like me, it came to you too. Jimmy Stewart's friend in the movie Harvey was an invisible, six foot rabbit. "I didn't know rabbits liked seafood." I told my wife. She replied "They also serve salads here." I guess that explains it.
Friday, December 19, 2008
I grew up in a small town in central Ohio (We didn't even have a stop light). Living in Ohio means you live through Ohio winters. When you are a kid, Ohio winters are great (Not so much after you grow up).
When we were kids, we loved to see it snow. Living in the rural community where we did, snow usually meant school closings, and what kid doesn't like that. School closings created an outdoor adventure for us.
We lived close to a creek that froze over during the winter and we would go back there and slide on the ice (We never owned a set of ice skates). This was great fun until you would find a piece of thin ice. CRACK was a sound you didn't want to hear. I went through the ice once. Fortunately I just went in up to my right hip. Going home was very cold, wearing wet jeans. It's a wonder I didn't drowned in that creek, seeing that I can't swim. We have also seen the ice get up to a foot thick.
We never owned a sled either. We would take a piece of plastic, a garbage can lid, a car hood (yes, we were rednecks), or anything else we could find that would make us zip down the hills. One year I made my own sled out of scrap lumber. You couldn't steer, but you could ride. I set up a four by eight sheet of plywood on a mound of dirt by our house to make a "ski slope". I brought shovel after shovel of snow over to make the base slope. When it was finished, I laid down on my homemade sled and slid down the slope. It was great fun until I hit the bottom and came to such an abrupt stop that my hands jammed into the front of the sled, and I catapulted through the air and landed on my back. I threw the homemade sled onto the burn pile.
Snowball fights were big around our house, especially if Aunt Shelly's kids came over. Eight to ten kids in a snowball fight is a lot of fun. The only problem with snowball fights is that someone always thinks he has to play dirty. Rocks in snowballs are bad news. So are snowballs packed so tight that you might as well be throwing a rock. The worst are snowballs dipped in water, and allowed to refreeze.
When the snow would drift, we would tunnel through the drifts. Back then, we were invincible. It didn't dawn on us that if the snow tunnel collapsed with us in it, it could possible kill us.
We loved making snow men, but with the vast amount of leaves that were always present in late fall, early winter, our snowmen looked nothing like the pictures in books. Ours were a sort of mottled brown. A friend of mine said she always thought part of the song "Winter Wonderland" went like this: "In the meadow we can build a snowman, and we can pretend he's parched and brown." Sounds like ours.
What was your favorite winter activity as a child?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
These were some of my closest cousins. This may explain some of the idiosyncrasies I have. Then again, maybe not. Shake your family tree. Do any nuts fall out?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
This is a picture of our church sanctuary. There is a wedding being planned in this pic. Please note the four steps that lead to the platform, and the staircases on each side leading to the baptistery.
I love dressing up and being silly for Sunday school or other children's ministries. I have a costume left over from the time I played Reuben the royal rodent in "My Way or Yahweh" about 20 years ago. I have resurrected the character as Ruben the church rat ("Church mice are a dime a dozen, I'm an original."). He has an alter ego as Ratman, who with his puppet sidekick, Squeaky, play the heroes in a lot of my skits.
In this particular skit, Squeaky is at the very top of the platform, which has a three foot wall which serves as a handy, impromptu puppet stage. I ascend the stairs on the right while engaging in conversation with Squeaky. I speak of needing to get back to the "Rat Hole" to recharge my batteries. With that I grab Sqeaky from the puppeteer's hand (a tricky move) and rush down the stairs. When I get to the platform, there are about three steps before you get to the stairs that lead to the floor.
Then (I tried it several times before the actual skit) I jumped from the platform to the sanctuary floor.I had planned to land, sprint to the double crash doors nearby, strike the Heisman pose with Squeaky, and crash through the doors.
The problem being was that on the way down, my heel caught the last step. This caused me to stumble, and wobble & stagger to keep my balance. As I got to the crash doors, I flung myself to the left to hit the crash bar. I missed, and crashed into the door. On the second try, I made it through the door.
I have learned that being 40+, fat, and non-athletic, this isn't a good thing to do. My flying days are over.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
All I did today was lay around, watch old movies & sleep.
I think the thing I hate most about being sick is that I am a whiner baby when I'm sick. I was a Momma's boy growing up (hence the nickname "Gertrude" from a certain set of cousins). I tend to moan and whine and generally feel like I'm dying. (see my Flashback Friday posts for more on that).
My wife on the other hand likes to be left alone when she is sick. Don't ask her twice if she needs anything. A real frontier/pioneer type.
She took me for better or worse, sicker or poorer. This is definitely the sicker & worse of times.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
"Ralph, blow chunks, toss your cookies, heave, hurl, gak, upchuck, puke, spew, vomit, technicolor yawn, pray to the porcelain god, bow before the thrown... No matter what you call it nausea is no fun."
I did all of these, plus some I hadn't come up with names for last night, but as Andrew Lloyd Weber wrote"Don't cry for me Argentina". It was my own doing through a series a bad decisions. Kinda like a self-inflicted gunshot wound. If I were to tell the whole story, it would rival some of my Flashback Friday post in length. BTW, It had nothing to do with booze, I haven't touched that since I was 15. Please just pray that I will be feeling better real soon. Thanks.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The whitish blur seen in this picture has been spotted several times by multiple people. I was fortunate enough to catch it on my camera phone one day. What is it you ask? A ghost? An alien? A being from another dimension?
Nope. It's Sparky the wonder dragon making his security patrol around the grounds. He can really fly around that yard. I've checked him several times for wings, but I haven't found them yet
Saturday, November 22, 2008
While checking a Steve & Barry's store closing sale, I showed my grandson, "the Boy", A Michigan shirt. This was his reaction:
He has his father's, "The Woodsman", genes. His mother "The Ogre" was a U of M fan growing up., but I think she may be coming around. Let's hope "the player to be named later" has those OSU fan genes.
Here is one of my favorite "Zesty" pics:
Here are a few more pics for today's game:
U of M is finishing the worst seasons it has ever had. Will that take any of the luster off an OSU victory? Are you kidding me? Any victory over them is sweet.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
We had a thunder snowstorm yesterday. It thundered and the snow came down really fast and really hard. It dropped about 1 1/2 inches in just a short period of time. Sparky didn't know what to think of it.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
1) I can't swim.
2) I don't feel that I am very photogenic.
3) I'll watch kid's videos even if there are no kids around.
4) That's because I love Veggie Tales.
5) I still have my Grandmother's house key. (She's been gone for 30+ years. It's a skeleton key.)
6) I've worked at the same factory for 20 years.
7) I've read the Bible clear through for 14 years straight. (It will be 15 shortly).
8) I am a pack rat.
9) My feet are almost as wide as long. (9 1/2 EEE)
10) I've gone to the same church for over 25 years.
11) I snore.
12) I love peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.
13) I like to get out the toys and play with the grandkids.
14) I enjoy dressing up and "being silly" for kid's musical, revivals or Sunday school.
15) I am madly in love with my wife.
I'm not much for tagging people, so if you read this, and have lost your bloggy grove, and your creativity has tanked, consider yourself tagged. List your 15, and if you need a scapegoat, say I tagged you. I have broad shoulder & can handle it.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
It's an Obama sock monkey. There were 11 bids, and it sold for over $89. There are more of them listed, with starting bids over $35. I like sock monkeys, but my wealth is not going to be re-distributed for one of these any time soon.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Those who have been following my true-life adventure I so fondly call Flashback Friday know that toy guns were a staple toy around our house. Cap guns. Dart guns. Squirt guns. Disc shooting guns. But one day, a real gun came on the scene.
My Uncle Felix came by one day and asked Mom & Dad if they thought that we boys were mature enough to have a real gun. I was 10, and my brother, Sir Gattabout, was 14. He had a shotgun, and since he no longer went hunting, it was worthless to him. We lived in the country, so we were the first of his nephews that he would offer it to.
My parents agreed, so Uncle Felix took my brother to the back yard to show him how to load & properly handle a firearm. I was not taken back, because "Gattabout can show him ". BOOM, BOOM, went the shotgun. Cans went flying. It was so totally cool.
Many days later, After school, Sir Gattabout was out back practicing his marksmanship. I went out back after I heard the first shot to watch. "Do you want to set some cans up for me?" he asked. "Sure." I replied. I set up six cans for him to shoot. After I got behind him, he proceeded to pick the cans off one by one. When there was only one can left, he asked me"Do you want to shoot the last one?" Oh boy did I ever.
He loaded the shotgun, and helped me to bring it up. (It was pretty heavy) He showed me how to use the target sights. Finally he reminded me how to hold the shotgun. " You've got to keep the shotgun about this far away from you shoulder (while holding his finger & thumb about three inches apart). I did everything he told me, sighted my target, and squeezed the trigger.
BOOOOOOOOM. Everything happened so fast. Anyone who has ever shot a shotgun before knows what happened. For you who never have, here is what happened.
If you are going to shoot a shotgun, you must (I repeat MUST) hold the the stock firmly against you shoulder. A shotgun will kick. This was a 10 gauge, so the kick was pretty good even if you held it properly. This one kicked me like I had walked up behind a mule and smacked it in the rear with a two by four. When I squeezed the trigger, it slammed back into my shoulder with such force that it hurled me against an old truck that we had setting in the yard. (all rednecks had old trucks in their yard, didn't they?). I collapsed to the ground, and rolled there in agony.
"HA HA HA HA HA, That was the funniest thing I ever saw in my life!" my brother roared. When he stopped laughing, he said "If you tell, the pain you are feeling now will feel like NOTHING." I believed him, because he made it a point to devise new and improved torture methods daily. I had been one the wrong end of several of them, so I kept my mouth shut, and never touched the shotgun again. It was stolen from our house a few years later.
Parents, If you live in an area that supports shooting, take the time to show each child individually how to properly use the firearm. Don't expect your oldest to pass along his wisdom.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
We have three rose bushes in our yard, and they all bloom in late spring. With the indian summer weather that we have been having, I think this bush was fooled into thinking that it is spring again.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Later that night I got to thinking about some of the kids that have been in my Sunday school classes and on the van routes that I drove. I have taught & driven for over 20 years, so I have seen a lot of kids go through my class. It still tickles me to have kids tell me that they don't want to grow older because that means they will have to leave my class.
In addition to the above mentioned pastor, There have also been a wealth of other ministers who have called me teacher. One young man has been an Associate in Missions, preaching and teaching in The United Kingdom (mostly in Scotland) and in Eastern Europe (mostly in the Czech Republic). Current and former church music directors, numerous church musicians, choir members, Sunday school teachers, and bible college students have also been my pupils. In the secular world, nurses, nurses aides, and airports security screeners spent time as youth in my ministries.
I does me good to see the young person who was backward (or perhaps the other extreme) become responsible young adults. You never know what that child in you class will grow to be.
Friday, October 24, 2008
We got back to Violet's house, and got everything packed into the car. All the goodbyes were said and were piled into the car. We were headed back to Ohio with another marathon driving session. We would be doing most of the driving at night because traffic wouldn't be as heavy.
We made it home without incident. Bonnie was dropped off first, then Doris dropped our family off. I liked Florida, but I was glad to be back home. It would be another 25 years or so before I ever made it back to Florida.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
When our old dog "Onyx" passed, we decided that we really didn't want another dog. As the weeks passed, we decided that we were too much "dog-people" not to have another dog roaming the halls of Castle Nottaguy. We contacted the local animal shelter, and told them to give us a call if a small dog came in.
A few weeks later the phone rang, and we were asked to come take a look at a Rat Terrier that had been picked up because the older lady who had it could no longer care for it. She had nine dogs, and she was allowed to keep three. This dog being the smallest, didn't get much food, therefore, he would tear into the neighbors garbage.
He was bigger than what we wanted, but decided to take him anyway. When the worker reached into the kennel to put a leash on him, he bit at the worker. "What kind of crazy dog are we getting?", I asked Lady Nottaguy-TYG. "He's just scared.", she replied. We took the leash, filled out the paperwork, and exited the animal shelter.
When we got to the car, he wouldn't get in. In fact, he vigorously shook himself, and off went the collar & leash. Zoom, he was off & running. I've seen greyhounds that looked slow compared to the speed that he was displaying.
A week & a half later, we get a call from the animal shelter. "We found the dog again, if you still want him, you can come pick him up". We were ready this time. We had picked up a harness to use, instead of a collar. We got to the shelter, put the harness on him, put him in an animal carrier, and got him home. We named him "Sparky" because he reminded us of the small dog in the movie "Beethoven" that bites the bad guy in the rear at the end of the movie.
When I took him into the house, we put him into a back room, with the carrier door open. We checked on him every 10 minutes to see if he had come out yet. After a while, with him still in the carrier, I decided to take him out. Remember the dog shelter worker, I donned gloves, and approached the carrier. GROOOOWL, came the sound from the carrier. Undaunted, I reached in to take him out. In a flurry of snaps, bites & gnaws, I finally got him out of the carrier. It was almost like putting my hands into a food processor.
I lead him out the front door on the leash attached to the harness. I walked him around our landholdings so he could know his property. Since it was January, I didn't want him to get too cold, so we headed back to the house. When we reached the stairs, he had no desire to go back in the house. I gave a small tug on the leash. He responded by shaking like a hula dancer having a seizure. Before I knew what had happened, he had slipped out of the harness, and away he went.
Two weeks later, we get another call from the animal shelter. We had hunted, the area for Sparky to no avail. They found him a mile away. " If you still want this dog, you can pick him up, but if he escapes, and we pick him up again, it will cost you the adoption fee again". Off to the shelter we go again. This time, we have harness and a choker chair (I preferred not to use one, but we were at our wits end). We head Sparky to the car using two leashes (one for the harness, one for the choker chain). When it was time to take him for a walk, we did the same thing. Boy, did we get some strange looks, but he didn't get away.
That night we put him in a downstairs room when we went to bed. Yap yap. Bark bark. Scratch scratch. Whine whine. Lady Nottaguy-TYG said "He sounds lonely, why don't you bring him upstairs to sleep with us?". I looked at her, and said "Are you crazy? This dog just came from the pound. How do you know that he won't rip our throats out while we sleep?". "Go get him." she says. So I go downstairs, open his crate, and coax him upstairs. He follows, and jumps on the bed, rolling over to show us his belly. "See, he is showing us that he trusts us." my wife says. We both pet him for awhile, and allow him to sleep at the foot of the bed.
Now we wish he would stay at the foot. He likes best to work his way between me & my wife. He also likes to sleep under the bedspread. If he gets cold, he will jump off the bed, and pat the side of the bed with his front paw to tell us he wants covered up. My wife spoiled him too much. Whats funny is that if he is under the bedspread, and someone becomes "The Wind Beneath My Sheets", he will jump off, and stay in the other room for a few minutes.
Loud noise also scare him (maybe that's why he jumps off the bed?). During a thunderstorm, or around July 4th, he is a basket case. I was showering one day during a pretty bad storm. BOOM, the thunder crashed, and before I knew it, I had company in the shower. We think that perhaps he was shot at when he was tearing into people's trash, and that's why loud noises scare him. We normally wrap him in a blanket, and sit with him to calm him down
He also HATES radio controlled cars, or any toy car that makes a similar noise. When Ninja John lived with us, he would at times take out his RC car and let Sparky go after it. One year, we found a Christmas train at a yard sale. When we had set up the Christmas tree, I got the train out and set it around the tree, like you see in the old pictures. When I turned the train on, Sparky became "Dogzilla", and ran over, bit the engine, and derailed the train. Oh well, maybe another year.
He may have his quirks & idiosyncrasies, but we love him anyway.
Monday, October 20, 2008
1. Link the person who tagged you
2. Mention the rules
3. List 6 unspectacular things about yourself
4. Tag 6 other bloggers
Since nearly everything I do is unspectacular, it is difficult to narrow it to six, but here goes.
1) I've worked at the same factory for over 20 years, the same position for over 19 years.
2) I am a packrat, both at home & professionally at work.
3)I enjoy playing fantasy sports.
4) I've read the entire writings of Louis L'Amour.
5)I'm a meat & potatoes kind of guy.
6)I also like to spend time with my grandchildren.
Since I don't have six friends (because I'm so anti-social), I tag YOU. (Too late to hit the back arrow on your browser.) If you decide to play along, please leave a comment saying so.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
It was to have started at 9AM, but there were people already lined up at 8AM (Me included), so when the workers got into place, they opened early. Hand in the paperwork (Which I already had filled out), pay the fee, drive up to a nurse, and get shot. I was through before 8:30. I thought it was a great idea.
Related joke: Q:What goes clip clop, clip clop, bang, clip clop, clip clop?
A: An Amish drive-by shooting.
Friday, October 17, 2008
When I was but a young lad, that thought of going away anywhere for vacation was as foreign as eating escargot. It just didn't happen around our house. But one day, that all changed.
Dad's best friend Chuck, was married to Doris. Doris had a sister, Violet, who lived in Florida. Doris, and her sister Bonnie wanted to go visit Violet, but with just the two of them driving, they were afraid that the driver would fall asleep while the passenger slept. Chuck couldn't go because he couldn't get off of work (a likely story), so they asked Mom & Dad if they wanted to go along.
They agreed, and the seating arrangements were like this: Picture a '72 Buick with three adults & one baby in the front seat (Doris, her baby Jewel, Bonnie & Dad), and one adult with three children in the back seat (Mom, Sir Gattabout who was 14, Me at age 10, and Doris' oldest child Nigel who was four). Cozy, hmmm?
The plan was to drive non-stop from central Ohio to Fort Meyers Florida where Violet & my Mom's Uncle Percy lived. When the driver would get tired, the front seat would rotate like a volleyball game. Driver takes passenger seat, passenger seat takes middle holding baby Jewel, and middle becomes driver (this was before child car seats were around). Pull out your map kiddies, this is a long drive (Yahoo Maps says it takes 18+ hours to make the trip).
Well, the trip was made, but it wasn't non-stop (you tell eight people that they have to drive nearly 1200 miles without a potty break and see what happens). During one stop in Tennessee, we were at "tourist trap" showcasing mountain life (log cabins, smoke houses, stills, etc.). Part of the mountain life was that the bathroom facilities consisted of outhouses (Woo Woo! We drive 600 miles to use an outhouse, when we have two in the backyard?). When we were ready to leave, we couldn't find Mom. Not in the gift shop. Not over by the car. Not anywhere to be found. The search was on. Dad finally found her. She was the last to "use the facilities (or lack thereof). When she entered the outhouse, part of the door frame trim came loose, preventing her from opening the door & exiting the outhouse. She was locked in. Dad said this must be how the mountain men got their wives. While we were looking for Mom, Nigel swiped the rest of my can of Mountain Dew. Little creep.
When we entered Fort Meyers city limits, I had a major letdown. It was a fort, wasn't it? Where was the tall wooden stockade fence like in Fort Apache? We finally got to Violet's house. There was much hugging & mushy stuff. It was determined that we would spend the night at Violet's before making our way to Uncle Percy's. Violet lived in a three bedroom trailer, and she had a husband and four kids. Add the eight of us, and we got cozy again. In the morning, we took Doris' car (the '72 Buick) to Uncle Percy's as Doris & Bonnie were going to stay the week at Violet's.
When we got to Uncle Percy's, I was amazed. He was a fisherman deluxe. He had all kinds of large fish mounted on his walls. I walked from room to room looking at his trophy fish while the adults talked. To this day I don't remember what he looks like, but I sure remember those fish (especially the sailfish). Since he and his wife lived in a small bungalow, there wasn't room for us to stay there, so we went to get a room at a motel.
I had never stayed in a motel before.To be continued.......
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Cup ediquette states that only players on Cup winning teams may hold the trophy over their head, but anyone can get their picture taken with it (like I did during Lady Lemon's band trip to Toronto during her senior year in high school).
But please don't do this.
Friday, October 10, 2008
We now have indoor plumbing.
Indoor plumbing is something that most people take for granted, until they are forced to do without it. Most of us can find the bathroom in a half-sleep stupor. Go, flush, go back to bed. Nothing to it. But what if it wasn't so easy? Most of us have had to stop at an "outhouse rest area" a time or two in our lives. If you haven't read it yet, I have a Flashback Friday about our outhouse. But this post isn't about outhouses, it is about us getting running water indoors for the first time.
I was at an auction recently and spotted this chamber pot (the auctioneer called it a "thunder pot"). This is similar to what our indoor toilet looked like until I was nine or ten years old. I am currently mid 40's, so I am referring to 1972 or 1973. It was the responsibility of the kids to empty the pot. We had to carry it back to the back fence & dump it. During the "Tingler" & the"Blackmail" days, it became my daily duty.
In the house that we lived in, there was no bathroom. We kept a chamber pot like the one above setting on a couple cement blocks by the side entrance of the house. The room it was in had some shelves on the wall, so it held everything from extra canned goods to tools. The "pot room" was to be used only at night, or in bad weather, as we had two fully functional outhouses on our property. The room had no door, just a blanket hanging from a couple of nails. The rest of the house contained two bedrooms downstairs, plus a living room & an eat in kitchen. There were two bedrooms upstairs.
Dad decided that we needed to get water hooked up to the house, so we moved the items from the kids bedroom to one of the bedrooms upstairs. My parents took over what used to be the kids bedroom, and the now empty bedroom was to be fitted as a bathroom. We had no fixtures, but with Dad being a carpenter & all-round handyman, he rounded up what was needed.
The first thing you need in a bathroom is running water. I don't know too many bedrooms that have that, so Dad had to run a water line under the floor. The house had an almost full basement, but not under this room. Dad, and his best friend Chuck, cut a three foot by six foot hole in the floor to give them access to the crawlspace under the floor. This they would cover over with a four by eight sheet of plywood when they weren't working.
Things went together quickly and before you know it, they were just about finished. As the final water lines were hooked up, a cautious still hung in the air. Chuck was in the basement at the main valve, while Dad was upstairs ready for the final inspection. As each knob was turned, water flowed. YAY! Now the shower, again water flowed freely. Now the toilet. We all waited anxiously. FLUSH. Hooray! It Works.
Dad asked "Who wants to try it out first?" Of course, I had to be first. Dad picked up his tools, carried them out & shut the door. But the one thing he forgot was to put the plywood over the gaping hole in the floor. I knew I couldn't, so I inched by it over to the toilet. When I was finished, and all the paperwork done, I stood up to pull up my pants. In doing so, I lost my balance and plunged into the hole. SNAP, went the new water line, and before I knew what had happened, there was a beautiful fountain in our bathroom, shooting all the way up to the ceiling.
"HELP, HELP" I cried. Dad shot into the room, saw the fountain, and hollered "Turn the water off Chuck, Hurry". The water was turned off, and Dad pulled my soggy little body out of the hole. About an hour later, the line was fixed, and the hole covered. Until the day we moved out, the sheet of plywood was never nailed down (It was the access panel for the plumbing). The bathroom may have had a "redneck" look to it, but at least it was indoors.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The first picture, I took last year during "Black Friday" in Columbus (You can see my reflection in the bumper). The second was sent to me by a friend who know my feelings on the subject. "Nuff said!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
On a side note, I am also thoroughly enjoying the fact that the Yankees are watching the playoffs on TV, while their former manager, Joe Torre, is taking the Dodgers to the second round.
Friday, October 3, 2008
(Pictured-Sock Monkey, Lincoln logs, Tinkertoys, Hot Wheels, Matchbox, Legos, plastic soldiers and cowboys & indians)
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
1) While at a large retail store, a couple (man & woman, these days you have to clarify) asked the salesman where they could find matching shirts. The salesman told them" Please follow me, there are some bi-sexual shirts over here". Really now?
2) At work we were talking about a local funeral home building a crematorium near several restaurants. A blonde female co-worker came into the conversation at the end.
Me- I think having a crematorium next to a restaurant is gross.
Blonde- What's so bad about it?
Me- You do know what a crematorium is, don't you?
Blonde- Isn't that where the make donuts?
Blonde- You know, cream filled donuts.
I love donuts, but I think I'll pass on those, thank you.
3) In Sunday school we were talking about going to Heaven. I told the children that when we get there we will all get a crown. Then when we see Jesus, we will take the crown off and cast it at his feet. One little boy raised his hand, and said " I don't think I want to do that". "Why not?" I asked. He replied, very seriously " I don't throw very good, and I'd be afraid that I'd hit Him in the head with it."
How do you retain your composure after a remark like that. I assured him that he would do just fine.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
If Biblical Headlines were written by today's liberal media...
On Red Sea crossing:
WETLANDS TRAMPLED IN LABOR STRIKE
Pursuing Environmentalists Killed
On David vs. Goliath:
HATE CRIME KILLS BELOVED CHAMPION
Psychologist Questions Influence of Rock
On Elijah on Mt. Carmel:
FIRE SENDS RELIGIOUS RIGHT EXTREMIST INTO FRENZY
On the birth of Christ:
HOTELS FULL, ANIMALS LEFT HOMELESS
Animal Rights Activists Enraged by Insensitive Couple
On feeding the 5,000:
PREACHER STEALS CHILD'S LUNCH
Disciples Mystified Over Behavior
On healing the 10 lepers:
LOCAL DOCTOR'S PRACTICE RUINED
"Faith Healer" Causes Bankruptcy
On healing of the Gadarene demoniac:
MADMAN'S FRIEND CAUSES STAMPEDE
Local Farmer's Investment Lost
On raising Lazarus from the dead:
FUNDAMENTALIST PREACHER RAISES A STINK
Reading of Will Delayed
Friday, September 19, 2008
What makes a child afraid? I don't know about anyone else, but I know what I feared as a child. In today's edition, we'll look at some of the things that scared me, and let you Freud wannabes analyze.
Fear #1- I am over 40 years old, and I still have a morbid fear of the dentist. The last time I was in for a cleaning, I came out wringing wet with sweat. What caused this, you ask? When I was four, I had something wrong with my baby molars (cavities?). I was taken to a dentist whose name was probably Dr. I. Yankum (we really do have a local dentist named Dr. Payne). He said they needed to come out, and either gave me no or too little anesthesia. His dental assistant had to wrap her arms around the chair and hold me down. I screamed like something was being ripped from my body (oh, I guess they were). I got a little toy jeep for my trouble. The next time I went to the dentist, I was 16 years old.
Fear #2- I cannot swim. I grew up around water, but swimming is beyond me. When I was five, we went to a family reunion. At the park where the reunion was held, there was a swimming pool. I've always loved wading, and being in the water, so mom let me go with my brother (Sir Gattabout) to the pool. He watched me like a hawk, until some of our other cousins joined us.
I was at the shallow end of the pool, with the water at neck level. I was having a grand time, until one of my cousins kicked my feet out from underneath me. The next thing I knew, I was laying on the bottom of the pool, looking at legs & feet. I couldn't figure out what to do. I felt hands picking me up and bringing me to the surface. I screamed like I was dying (see last Friday's post). Mom comforted me, and tried to find out who did it. Nobody confessed (would you?). I have had people try to teach me to swim as an adult, with no success.
Fear #3-The Tingler. When I was 5 or 6, Mom & Dad would go over to Uncle Kevin & Aunt Bessie's house to play cards every Friday night until the wee hours of the morning. Their two boys, and me & my brother were allowed to stay up, and play or watch TV. If I was six, my brother was 10, and my cousins would have been 12 & 14 respectively. What do kids that age like to watch? Scary movies that's what. We had a program on every Friday night called "Chiller Theatre". It showed a double feature of old horror flicks. There was one in particular that must have really scared me. It was called "The Tingler". I told my brother that that was a really scary movie (please note: if someone has a history of antagonizing you, DON'T tell them something scared you).
From that time on, If my brother wanted me to do something that I didn't want to, he would throw his head back, bunch his shoulders & arms up, roll his eyes into his head and protrude his bottom teeth over his top lip. He would then growl "Tingler, ...Tingler" (The hair is standing up on the back of my neck as I type this). I did his chores, fixed him snacks, anything he wanted, just to make the tingler go away. I think I was 18 before I would enter a dark room without first reaching & turning on a light.
Fear #4-Blackmail. How do you blackmail a seven year old child? I guess you'll have to wait until next week to find out (was that a shameless plug for my next Flashback Friday or what?).
Some of the greatest comedians faced adversity as a child. Perhaps these were some of the things that shaped (or warped) my sense of humor. What were you afraid of as a child?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
We went to church Sunday afternoon at 4:30PM for choir practice. During practice, the lights flickered, went off, then came back on. Our choir director asked everyone to refrain from squealing & gasping if the lights went out while we were on the platform singing during service.
Since I drive the church van for Sunday night service, I have to leave while practice is still going on. While driving to our first stop, I watched a large limb fall out of a tree and land on a sub-compact car a block away.There were trees on houses & vehicles. We also had to watch for fire trucks heading out to extinguish flaming transformers. After detouring around trees across the road, i get a call from Lady Nottaguy-Tyg that the church has no power, take everyone back home & park the van. I was cool with that, the van was rocking like a boat in the waves.
When we got back to church the pastor says, I can have church with no light, I can have church with no air conditioning, I can have church with no music, but with no power, there are no bathrooms. (wells require a pump which is run with electricity). Those with small children had already left, so the rest of us had a time of prayer, and went home.
When we got home, several large limbs had fallen out of our tree out front, some in our elderly neighbors driveway. I pulled them all up front near the road, and went to the side to pick up the trashcans that had blown over. Before I had finished picking up the trash, more limbs had blown down. I waited until closer to bedtime to clear them, in fear more would come down.
Monday morning I drove to work, and there were detours all over due to fallen trees. When I got to work, there was a sign on the door. "We have no power, we will be closed 9/15". Thanks for calling the radio station.
Monday, at our compost area, it looked like a pick-up truck convention. I took three pick-up loads from my yard (and I have an 8 foot bed on my truck). There were a lot of trees & limbs down from the windstorm. I'm just glad we were 2000 some miles away.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I have fired off e-mails to the following links, and if you are offended with this cartoon that ran in the Washington Post on Sept. 9th,2008, I suggest that you do the same.
As a Christian, please don't make the e-mail mean spirited, but be firm. I know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they wouldn't have made fun of Sarah Palin's religion if she was Islamic. The radical arm of Islam would have burned the building to the ground.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
I'm dying. No, let me rephrase that. (Roll eyes back in head, unhinge jaw, and bellow from the most inner part of your being) I'M DYING!!!
This was a familiar refrain heard around my house when I was but a lad. I must have felt that I was more fragile than a Ming Dynasty vase or something. Anytime I was injured in any way, I seemed to me that I was dying.
The earliest remembrance of this line comes when I was about six or seven. We were roasting hot dogs & marshmallows out back with the neighbor kids. One of the neighbors caught his mallow on fire and waved it around trying to put out the fire. SPLAT, flaming marshmallow on my bare leg (this is only one of the reasons that I am not outside in shorts anymore). I screamed, but didn't die. The fireball had left a blister on my leg as big as a silver dollar (Eisenhower, not Sacajawea). I somehow got the idea that if that blister popped, I would die (what a great way to keep a kid from picking at it).
Later that week, my brother (Sir Gattabout) was pulling me up the driveway at a rapid trot in our Radio Flyer wagon. He took a turn quickly, and spilled me out of the wagon into the gravel. That hurt. I looked down at my leg, and the blister was gone, replaced with a nasty scrape. I let out a scream that would frighten any Halloween ghoul. "I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying" I yelled out, and ran as fast as my wounded body could go. Mom assured me that I was still quite alive.
Another such instance came about two years later. While playing tag my brother went up a tree, and wouldn't come down, therefore he won because I couldn't tag him. I told him, you come down right now. He jumped from one branch to another only to hear a sickening CRACK! The branch broke under his weight, and he plummeted earthward. Luckily he had a little brother directly beneath him to cushion his fall. As he landed upon me, all of the air in my lungs was knocked out. I couldn't breathe. I ran into the house to my parents mouthing the words "I'm dying, I'm dying". If you try telling somebody something when you can't breathe, they just look at you strange, and say "what?". As I was turning blue, dad figured I had the wind knocked out of me, so he whomps me on the back. Sweet air flowed into my lungs. I then proceeded to continue with my dying monologue.
The last such instance that I will bring forth deals with the mother of all boils that I had on my neck. Dad wanted to lance it, but, OH NO, you're not coming near me with that needle. Mom had some kind of cream that she applied daily. After a while, it looked like I had a mutant hickey on my neck. While over at my cousins' house (Aunt Shelly & Uncle Phil's from last post) playing "Army", one of my cousins played some "gorilla warfare" on me.(yes gorilla, not guerrilla) He was hiding up a tree, and jumped out and grabbed my neck. The boil exploded like the Hindenburg. I was sure I was dying then, but Aunt Shelly told me to shut up and go back outside and play (her kids, all 14 of them, spent ALOT of time outside playing).
To this day, there are times I whine & moan when I'm not feeling well, or hurting. However, I know that I'm not dying, because Lady Nottaguy-TYG tells me I'm not.