Family Fun

It was the 4th of July and we were off for an outing at the park. They really do put on a great show here, there is live music, concessions, a car show followed by spectacular fireworks.... and it's all free. I could hardly feel the burn I got on my hand the night before from the sparkler. Carol got all nervous about that but I told her it was no big deal. We got out of the car and she started slathering the grandkids with sun lotion, it's kind of amusing to me how vulnerable little kids are. I would usually help but for some reason I couldn't make my hand work quite right that day. What a great event, we got our spot and settled in for fun and relaxation.

The band took a break and I decided to head up to the concessions, Carol asked what I needed and I told her I just wanted to get some water to wash off the dog poop I had sat in. It was getting hot and I kept gagging for some reason. They had the fountain shut off but I was able to snag a 10 oz bottle of water for only four dollars and seventy five cents. Lucky for me the ice had already melted and the water was warm when I poured it on my stained pants. I kind of laughed at the poor losers who had stood in line behind me for an hour just to get warm water. They wanted to drink it! It wasn't their fault the line was so slow....they should have known better than to get behind me (see MY Fault post from 7/7/10). Some people.

I grabbed some snow cones for the kids but the sun did its thing as I made my way back to my crew where I found out that kids can be so ungrateful. My oldest granddaughter complained that she burned her lips on the edge of the snow cone cup. Carol assured her she would be fine. She told her not to exaggerate and to just blow on the thing till it cooled off. As the day droned on some of the other revelers started to get a little grouchy. I actually heard the guy next to us yelling at his kids, "Just shut up and drink your snow cones!" We were fortunate enough to grab a spot next to a trash can, it began to fill and after only a few hours you could hardly notice the smell from the dog poop...silver linings. I accidentally touched it with my forearm when I threw away our trash and my skin actually sizzled and popped. Carol was kind of lost in her own world there in the summer sun, she didn't even look up, simply exclaimed, "Oh yeah, we're out of eggs." That made her realize that she was hungry and she suggested we get some hot dogs. I had to confess that after the snow cones and third round of hot water I was down to sixty bucks and there were four of us. She rolled her eyes, handed me a twenty, I got in line, and two hours later those dogs tasted wonderful. I think I chipped a tooth on my bun but it was worth it.

The fireworks were amazing. The kids were tired and we had to carry them back to the car. I took the little one because my right hand was feeling weird and my forearm stung. When she wrapped her arm around my neck I realized that I should have gotten in that suntan lotion line myself. I screamed OH! Everyone looked at me like I was crazy so I started singing, "say can you see by the dawn's early light....." Some of the people in the crowd joined in, it was pretty cool.

Carol loves holidays and family outings, I love her. Can't wait til Thanksgiving. She has to work so I get to cook, it's gonna be great!

Driving tip: When you're on a two lane highway at night, the guy in front of you is poking along and there is oncoming traffic, relax a little. If the car coming toward you is far enough away that it appears to have only one headlight it is probably safe to pass. If there are obviously two lights, it's probably too close to risk it. Be careful, if there is only one light but it's really bright, it might just have one. (i.e.) A motor cycle or a one eyed car. Pay attention for a while to oncoming night traffic and get a feel for how long it takes one light to turn into two and ultimately reach the point at which you might get clobbered if you were in the passing lane. When that slow poke gets in your way, you will be better prepared to safely pass.

Stereotypes

Longevity in marriage is based on mutual compatibility. My mom liked to have things done for her and my dad liked doing things for her. My grandmother wanted a good provider, granddad was ambitious and successful. Carol and I vowed til death do us part. She prefers a man who is strong, handsome and a good worker. She's got a lot going for her and I imagine if I ever get hit by a bus, she has a good chance of snagging one.

Stereotypes, that's what it's all about. Strong, beautiful, intelligent women have one goal afforded them by society, to snag a good man. Men have expectations placed on them as well. I can't think of one right now but I'm sure there are some. In the master plan that might not seem fair but let me tell you, it's tough being that strong, handsome, good worker my wife wants. My nine year old belted me in the stomach one time and then said, "I'd way rather punch you than Joe". Joe being his big brother who was home on leave from the Army. Feeling my oats a little I asked him why. He honestly said, "It doesn't hurt when I punch you." Now I had to pretend that I could still breathe and somehow remain conscious while I laughed. That little Satan, I mean Nathan, could really hit for a nine year old. So much for strong.

Handsome however, handsome is a different story. My mom told me I was handsome when I was just little. One time in high school I accidently forgot to attend classes for several days. The Dean of Boys, obviously in an attempt to make people think he was a good worker, called me on the carpet. He sat at his desk, turned toward me and said, "It makes me sick to look at you." I looked him right in the eye and retorted, "You calling my mom a liar?"

As far as being a good worker goes I don't think I need to tell you how hard it is to make other people think that you actually have worth. If you can pull that off, especially if you're me, I'd say you're a pretty good worker and as soon as I finish this post I'm going to get something done. Well, I might take a break but lets face it...Society certainly doesn't expect me to snag a good man so I've already accomplished everything I need to. I know me and I know men, Carol's chances of ever snagging a strong, handsome, good worker are actually pretty nil. Maybe I'll keep an eye out for that sneaky bus that's looking for me.

Whether or not the master plan is fair I think depends entirely on your perspective, and a little on your gender.

Driving tip: If you're ever driving in a snow storm and your defrosters won't keep up, the ice is building on your windshield and you can't see, pull over somewhere safe. Chances are good that if you turn off your heater, roll down your windows and get that windshield cold an amazing thing will happen. You scrape off the windshield, move your heater control to floor, roll down your door window just a little to let out the excess heat and go. Your windshield is now cold enough that the snow doesn't melt when it hits, it just blows off. You are able to travel comfortably and your windshield is crystal clear. Be careful of other drivers who don't know this trick. They can't see and just might be a hazard.

Montana Monster

Back in the 1960s US Highway 93 could take you from Mexico to Canada. In the South it crossed Hoover Dam and up North it went past Glacier Park in Montana and on up to Eureka. There were a lot of accidents on that popular 2-lane, spawning the bumper sticker, "I drive Highway 93...Pray for me."

In the summer of my 13th year I traveled to Ronan, MT with my older brother to see my grandma. He owned a 1967 Pontiac Bonneville convertible with bucket seats and a 400 cubic inch engine. I could go on about that car for several pages. We had our visit and were on our way home when Gale pulled over on the shoulder and asked me if I wanted to drive. I WAS THIRTEEN, of course I wanted to drive. He grabbed some toilet paper out of the glove box (it was Montana in 1968) went up and disappeared behind this big rock. I slid into the driver's seat, grabbed that steering wheel and imagined myself going a hundred miles an hour down that beautiful road.

Reality slapped me in the face when I heard this agonizing scream. I snapped my head toward the rock expecting to find a grizzly eating my brother. Instead I saw a sight that stunned me beyond imagination. Running toward me, naked from the waist down he came, carrying his pants in his left hand and a streaming roll of paper in his right, "GO! GO! GO!" He flew through the air and landed in the back seat just as I slammed it in gear and hit the gas.

I was terrified, my brother was what you call a man's man, nothing scared him, it might have been Sasquatch himself behind that rock. I didn't know for sure what was after us but it wasn't until he got his pants on, crawled over the seat, sat down, and told me to back off that I backed off. We were doing a hundred and seventeen miles an hour (it was Montana in 1968, good days) "What was it? What was back there?" He looked at me then, his face mirroring the panic I felt, "A bee!"

Did I tell you about the part where I, when at my Grandma's house, caught a bee in some tissue and stuffed it in the center of this toilet paper roll so it wouldn't sting anybody? I put that roll back in my brother's glove box and forgot about it till just then.

I was thirteen, I drove a Pontiac Bonneville convertible a hundred miles an hour. I saw my brother running terrified and naked through the woods. I sure hope he never finds out where that buzzing monster came from but I'm sure glad I caught it. From then on I always had a private thought whenever I saw one of those stickers. I drive Highway 93...Pray for me...that I don't get bit where my big-bad brother got bit by a bee.

Driving Tip: I read once that some people plan their drive by meal stops: If we leave at this time we can eat lunch here, dinner over here, and stop for the night when we get to here. Other people just get in the car and go. I think all people need to do a little pre-trip planning. You need to realize that if you leave at a specific time, you will be driving through Chicago at 5:00 local time.... A bad idea. Leave earlier or later, or maybe find something exciting to do just before you get to a big city at rush hour. Something that will kill a couple hours and be much more enjoyable than sitting in traffic. That roll of toilet paper in the glove box is pretty useless in a traffic jam. If a bee gets out, it will just make things worse.

A Poem

My son reminded me that I had intended to get gas in Amarillo. He was eight, I let him know that Dumas was only fifteen miles up the road and we would have no problem making that. I am a professional driver, I know what I'm doing.

I put the fam well off the highway and told them I would be back quickly, stuck out my thumb, and watched a dozen cars go by. No one seemed interested in helping a guy out so I tried a different approach. I stood behind my eight year old, had him put out his little thumb and the first car that came along slammed on his brakes. After returning my boy to the safety of his mom I jumped in with that guy and we headed North.
"Thanks for the ride man, I tried to tell that kid of mine that if we tried for Dumas we wouldn't make it."
"No problem, lucky for you I was at a pastor's conference in Amarillo this morning. The Lord must have known you would need some help. I'm Reverend Arnoldson. Isn't it wonderful how the Lord puts people in the right place to help someone?"

The guy went on and on. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the ride but a guy can only stand a harp for so long. That was the longest fifteen miles I ever had to endure. He let me out at the gas station, I borrowed a can and put five bucks worth in it. This young dude was standing by the pump and I asked him if he was going South.
"No f'n problem man, sit your ass in my f'n rig and let's f'n go. He f'n drove me the fifteen f'n miles back to my car. I got out and he turned around and went straight back to f'n Dumas. Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the ride but fifteen miles is a long f'n way with a guy like that.

My son asked about the people I rode with. I told him they were exactly the same. Two people who, when seeing a guy needed a hand, didn't hesitate to help. I reminded him of the adage about judging books by their covers.

If I ever get a book published and they ask me about the cover art, I'm going to let them know I've been around, I've seen some things. It's what's on the inside that counts but as far as books are concerned, the cover needs to be awesome. Maybe it should say something about being sure to gas up in Amarillo.

Driving tip: If you look at your car when it's sitting in a parking lot you will notice the tires bulge out a little on the bottom. The less air, the bigger the bulge. As the tire turns it flexes. The tire knows it needs to keep the bulge on the bottom. Flexing causes heat. Bigger bulge = more heat. That's right. This is about math.
If you 2 pie r your tire, you can figure out how far it travels per revolution. You can simply pie d it if you don't have a calculator and want less steps. Because I'm such a great guy I have taken the time to figure the answer for you. If a mile has X number of feet and your tires turn Y distance per revolution, the ratio of flexes per minute at Z miles an hour comes out to be a whole crap load. That's way more than a pot full, as any mathematician will attest. The conclusion is obvious. An under-inflated tire gets really hot, giving it a greater chance at failure. Next time you see a car that had a blow out, crashed, splattered all over the pavement and is surrounded by dead bodies, you will no doubt think, "That dude should have checked his tire pressure."

Keeping your tires properly inflated will not only save you four dollars and seventy six cents a year on gas, it might save your paint, and just might save your ass.

Element

I'm sure, after reading the title, you were looking forward to an in-depth discussion of the periodic table. Sorry to disappoint you but I will actually be addressing an element that is more personal. You know the expression, "He's in his element." or more to the point, "That's not my element." My element tends to be an easy chair in front of a television, remote and cold beverage at my side. Water is definitely not my element.

I swim like a fish. I should qualify that, I swim like a fish walks. If you've ever seen a fish flopping around on the ground, completely panicked, desperately trying to return to his, or her as fish go, element; you get a picture of how I look swimming. I can flop around and thrash in water exactly as far as I need to. If the bank is six feet away, I am able to go six feet before I die. If it's 23 feet away, I can make it exactly 23 feet before I die. The fish look up at me and go "Awwww, look at that poor thing, he is not in his element." Fish are smart, they know what they're talking about.

Carol was swimming, she really is beautiful in the water, she floats effortlessly, swims gracefully, and never tires. That day she was on her back and a bug attacked her. I think he was just doing reconnaissance on a potential target as he never actually touched her but she got scared, swallowed some water, and called for me to help. I was maybe eight feet away, holding on to the wall and, seeing her panic like that, immediately started flailing in her direction. I know how drowning people will actually climb up on someone to get air for themselves and figured, if I make it to her, I can climb up on her and get some air. With a gulp of fresh air, I could maybe try to help. I got a good kick off the wall and made it about four or maybe even five feet before I began to get in trouble. I'm a man, my woman needed me, I kept going. I was maybe three feet from her and nearly exhausted when she recovered and swam to the wall. Like an ocean liner I began a slow turn, I could see the wall, five feet off my starboard side. I went for it. I could no longer see Carol, all vision was now blocked by a torrent of splashing water. I knew I was close to the side but felt completely relieved to feel her hand on my arm, pulling me to safety.

She was not happy with me, "Why didn't you help?"
"I was trying, but you know you would have been better off to call for Zeus over me, you would have gotten a better result."
I felt stupid saying that. I should have said Poseidon. WTG Me. Ordinarily swimming isn't a problem for me. By the time I get used to the freezing water, everybody else is done and it's time to get out. That day the water was warm.

The point is that you should stay in your own element. If I was in the easy chair and a bug attacked her on the couch....no sweat. Don't be fooled if the water is warm, its still water and you still can't swim.


Driving tip: I think they were looking for a car similiar to ours and dad got pulled over twice within a ten mile stretch one time when I was just a kid. He looked at that second police officer and said, "Look, I'm just trying to get the hell out of your state. I will either take a ticket or a lecture but I aint taking both."I knew we were dead. The cop said have a good day and left us alone. I admire my dad and now I'm a man. My technique isn't exactly the same as his but if I ever get pulled over I open a few buttons; expose a little breast. Hike up my pants; expose a little leg. I might get a ticket but the cop never wants to hang around and talk. Like my dad, I'll take one or the other, but not both.

FYI

In the good old days there were some words that you had to be careful around. George Carlin numbered them at seven. These days there appears to be a code among the young, effectively letting them say whatever they want. I shall use this post to educate the old and square away those young.

Last Saturday I got a text from one of my son's buds. He said: "I read your blog LMAO." I've never been known as much of a tough guy but I did grow up in Butte, Montana. I went straight over and beat his ass. He looked up at me and said, "WTF?" After going home and doing some BR, I went back and beat his ass again. Same response.

For you oldies, if you see the letter F it usually means exactly what you think it means. For you youngies, MILF is not a compliment. GMILF is actually a little sick. You can't think like that unless you're old yourself. Old and single. No married guy has ever had those thoughts. If you don't believe me ask one. Ask him in front of his wife, I'm sure he'll back me up.

I always figured I would be BFFs with a lot of young people but if you think I'm going to put up with that kind of talk you can KMRIA. I am not JK about this. Just be careful when you say something in front of an old dude. YW.

For you old people, check out what some of those acronyms mean before you go pound one of your son's buds. Turns out the L in LMAO does not stand for lick. I must admit I was a little embarrassed. WTG me. This kid was actually giving me a compliment and he got smacked. ATAB? I'm sure he thinks that I could just GTH but I guess he was just SOL that day.

When I think about how stupid I was beating that poor kid I just FOFL. I wonder if he thinks my brain is a little MIA.

Anyhow, TA for letting me spout. XOXOX


P.S. Old people: Do research. There is a big difference between TA and T&A.

Driving tip: If your steering shimmies at a given speed: say it starts at 30 miles an hour and smoothes out at 35, you have a wheel out of balance. The speed is arbitrary, it may be between 55 and 70 or 20 and 28. Just take it to a tire shop and let them know. If it shimmies all the time you have something more serious going on. Hope you have a mechanic you can trust but get that checked right away. Be careful out there.

C.P.R.

Snow swirled past my eyes pushed by an early March wind, the thermometer read twenty one degrees and the ice began to melt and soak through the knees of my jeans. I cradled her in my hands, tilted her head back, and breathed hard into her mouth, one, two, three times. Putting her head quickly but gently down I began the compressions placing one of my palms two fingers below the top of her breastbone and covering it with the other, locking my elbows, and thrusting down. Fifteen compressions. Is that what they said in CPR? I couldn't remember for sure. Tilting her head back, I began breathing again. Three more times. I felt panic and frantically tried the compressions once more. There was no response. I started to cry silently but breathed again into that still face. More compressions. Desperate.

Carol stood on the porch overlooking the frozen back yard, cradling her arms against herself to try and form a shield against the wind and snow. She hollered that it was no use, it was over, let it go. She was crying too. I laid the lifeless body down and stood up, brushing the snow away from my legs as I turned to face her. She just shook her head, turned, and walked back through the door. She started to laugh and commented that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever seen. I watched the door close behind her and was alone. Alone and afraid, standing there in that snow, knowing I had no choice but to face the inevitable.

I pushed the door open and found several nurses and a doctor standing in the hall and they were laughing also. I couldn't breathe, I was caught up in all the emotion and staring at those faces was more than any man should have to bear. I asked after Carol and the doctor said she had gone out the front, out to the car. He put his arm on my shoulder and explained to me that it was just an expression. They don't use real rabbits, the one out behind the clinic was just a coincidence. When he said the rabbit died it simple meant that Carol was pregnant. No one had ever actually ran out back, found a dead rabbit, and tried to breathe life into it before. She was pregnant and that's all there was to it. There was nothing I could do; saving a rabbit could not un-do a pregnancy.

Well what the hell, gave it a shot. I hopped in the car and told Carol how elated I was to get the news. Another child, our fourth, Yippee!

My dad said that a fellow he knew summed it up pretty well one time. The guy had ten kids and when he was asked what he thought of their brand new baby he said, "Wouldn't take a million dollars for him, wouldn't give a dime for another one just like him, but wouldn't take a million."

You may love your children as much as I do mine but you don't love them more. That would be impossible. If you see one of my kids, don't mention the rabbit thing. Wouldn't want that getting out. You understand.



Driving Tip: If you ever have to back up a trailer, go to a big empty parking lot and practice before you try to put it between your Cadillac and the neighbor's Mercedes. Put your hand on the bottom of the steering wheel instead of the top. If you want the trailer to go left, pull the bottom of your steering wheel to the left. GO SLOW. If the thing starts to go the wrong way, stop. Pull ahead a couple feet and try again. Remember! "YOU ARE SMARTER THAN A TRAILER!" Keep telling yourself that.

Careful Who You Marry

I wanted to take a minute here to caution you about something that should be considered when you choose a life partner.

When my wife was small her family lived on a mini ranch. They had several hundred acres outside of town but lived on about a two acre tract closer to civilization. There were corrals and pens where her dad would keep cows that were ready to calve and running free at any given time were four or more of his little girl's beloved dogs. Sometimes, as dogs are prone to do, there would be an extra 6 to 12 tiny ones. After about the tenth pregnancy in two years her father declared that the puppies would have to be destroyed. Her dad was not someone to argue with and his word was law. He'd grown up in hard times and as an adult was pretty adamant that no lip would be tolerated.

Carol fretted the day until it finally came. Momma dog, in an effort to sequester her brood, decided to give birth on the floor in the hall closet right on top of the coats that should have been hanging above her. When the old man came home he found his eight year old daughter sitting in the closet, petting momma dog, and silently crying. She looked up at her stern father and timidly asked, "Are you really going to kill the puppies daddy?" Her dad took a minute to explain that they had too many dogs to feed as it was and there was no way he could allow another litter to roam around under foot, harrassing the cows, chasing the chickens and making general nuisances of themselves. I think he may have used the phrase "pain in the ass". At any rate, he turned toward the kitchen to get some coffee. As he walked away Carol asked after him: "When are you going to do it daddy?" He didn't turn, just said over his shoulder, "As soon as their old enough."

Ten or maybe fifty dogs later, Carol and I got married. We always had one or two dogs and the occassional cat gracing our own living room carpet. Isn't gracing a better way to say it than crapping on? Several years ago Carol, like her dad, had had enough. "You bring them into your life, fall in love with them, watch them get old, maybe suffer, and finally go to dog or cat heaven. It's just too heart breaking. We will never have another cat or dog!" She meant it, I could tell.

That was three dogs and two cats ago. Macai, a leftover from our daughter, was getting on in years when I found a little deformed mutt cowering in the middle of the street in the rain. I brought it home intending to take it to the animal shelter the next day. Instead, we put posters up all over and notices on bulletin boards. After living with the thing for three years I know full well why no one ever claimed it. Two years ago my son dragged a stray cat home from a state park where he had been camping. Cali does help by ocassionally bringing home a bird or rat and leaving it on the carpet so we all might share. Last year there was this teeny tiny baby kitten outside the door to Carol's work. I reminded her that we didn't want any more animals. She agreed and insisted that, as soon as our granddaughters saw it, we could take it to the shelter. That is now the biggest cat I've ever seen. You can be making a sandwich, look over, and the thing is staring at you eye to eye. He is standing on the floor, his front paws on the edge of the counter, and his head is level with yours.

The other night, in the rain, another dog showed up in our drive. Carol decided we shouldn't name Jenny because someone would surely claim her. More posters, more notes on bulletin boards. I agreed, we shouldn't name it. I called Scraps so I could take her outside to do her business. Carol asked, "Why are you calling Jenny Scraps?" I reminded her that we shouldn't name the dog. She concurred.

I have to cut this short because I have to scratch old Rags (Scraps, Jenny, whatever) behind her ears. She kind of likes that. The point is, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. If a girl's dad won't even man up and kill some little puppies like he said he was going to, there is a good chance that if you marry that girl, you can bet you'll need plenty of paper towels and disinfectant, not to mention deodorizer, maybe you should invest in a good shampooer. "If I had a nickel for every bag of dog food we've bought over the years." I sometimes wish she were more stern like me. We wouldn't have to deal with half the crap we put up with. (Get it? crap?)Fact is, if it weren't for her, you can bet I would get rid of the whole lot of them....just as soon as they're old enough.

Driving tip: Don't swerve back! It's actually about physics. A typical car has about ten inches of give in the springs and shocks. If you find yourself in a situation where you have to swerve hard to the right, the car rolls up to its' left. The suspension on the left bottoms out and the suspension on the right lifts up to it's limit. If you realize that you may be going off the road you have a tendency to swerve back to the left. The left side of the car can now travel a distance of twenty inches from being bottomed out to its' fully extended position. The right side does the opposite.

At speed, when you add inertia and centrifical force to the fact that the car can now freely travel twenty inches up on the left and down on the right, it might keep going. Effectively putting the shiny side down and the dirty side up.

If you ever have to swerve, then get a death grip on the steering wheel and make a rational split second decision about your next maneuver. A sudden swerve to the right followed by a sudden swerve to the left is a bad idea.

Tips

I decided to put some new sod down in my backyard. Carol just happened to be standing there, hands on hips, stern (This is it buster!) look on her face and, out of nowhere, I declared I was going to do that project. That is part of why she loves me. She never has to say anything (she does but she doesn't have too)and somehow I just know what she's thinking.

When I got to the nursery I pulled right up to the pallets of sod and told the guy I was going to get twenty dollars worth. Twenty dollars will get you fourteen pieces of 24 by 18 inch sod. I know that sounds like a lot for one guy to handle but I'm still as strong and ambitious as I ever was and, you can ask anybody, when I begin a project I am nose to the grindstone till that baby is done. (I've only been working on Carol's new bathroom for four years and that thing is coming along great.)

Anyhow, I gave the guy a two dollar tip for his troubles and walked inside to pay the cashier. When I got back to my truck he told me he went ahead and threw twenty pieces in the back. What a great guy. That's the thing about tips. You always get back way more than you spend. Not always in extra sod, but when you throw a buck at the girl at the taco stand window she just lights up, I mean really gets excited, and tells you she has been working there a year and this is her first tip. When that happens you feel great and a little pissed. You just made someone's whole day for a dollar and you wonder why other people don't do that too. You ponder awhile and realize that tipping a working man, or woman, kind of makes your own whole day. What a deal.

So I got my sod and headed back to the house, it was a perfect day for laying sod. I jumped out, grabbed four pieces (sod is heavy but I can handle it) and carried them to my back yard. I laid them out, stamped them down, admired my skill and expertise at sod laying, and walked back to my truck. I got three pieces, Its not like I have to prove what a man I am by carrying four, and marched back to the back yard again. I placed them, tamped them down and walked back to the truck. I grabbed two pieces, I'm not too lazy to make a couple extra trips, and walked towards the back. I stopped halfway to check out some odd looking grass by the drier vent, but just for a second, and continued on. By the time I knocked out those two I figured I deserved a break. Carol had a tall glass of ice water waiting and I began again all refreshed. I grabbed another piece of sod and threw it over my shoulder, marched back to the yard and dropped it on the ground.

After I fired up my air compressor and filled up the tire on my wheelbarrow I slid five pieces into the basket, grabbed the handles and shoved it to the back yard. Its funny, but those pieces seemed a lot heavier than the first ones, they must have gotten wet or something. I got the first two placed but felt a little twinge in my back when I lifted the third one. I got to thinking that that guy at the nursery might have been setting me up. Maybe he knew that fourteen was just right and twenty was a bit to much for one guy.

I got back to the truck and slid three off the gate and into the basket. One missed and fell on the ground. No problem, I'd get it later. I figured out that, if you tip your wheelbarrow over, you can slide pieces out without having to lift them. One more trip to the truck and the last two landed in the basket. Halfway to the back yard I stopped to ponder what a jerk that guy at the nursery was. I was dying in that heat and I gave that lope a two dollar tip. What a joke!
I slid the last two pieces into place and resolved that tipping people is stupid. You should never tip someone, they just screw you.

Carol raved about what a great job I'd done and took me to a burger joint to get lunch and celebrate. She drove, I was a little weak to be steering and stuff. When the girl gave us our food Carol gave her a ten dollar bill and told her to keep the change. That little girl smiled big, turned, showed her buds what a treat she had just gotten, and literally skipped to the back. Carol beamed at how easy it was to make someone's day. I was thinking about how I could get even with that jerk at the nursery and deciding that maybe tomorrow I might get that piece of sod out of the driveway.

Driving Tip: If you park your car when it's snowing you should leave the wipers running. When they are at the top (facing up and down) turn off the key. When you return they're less likely to be frozen to the glass and, after you scrape off that three by five inch area of windshield so you can see well enough to safely drive till the defrosters melt the rest of the ice so your un-stuck wipers can clear the whole windshield, you can go.

Communication

Two physicians were on trial for murder. Jenny had witnessed the murder but what she saw was an absurd creature, half parrot, half ox, commit the crime.
The attorney asked her if she had seen a pair a docs and she quickly replied, "No, I saw a parrot ox." Would the jury consider her answer a paradox?
You may have to read those last two sentences out loud and quickly to get the full gist. The point is, what you hear, is not, necessarily what was said. With that in mind it is easily understandable that if someone ever comments that this blog sucks I will, no doubt, interpret that as, "I would like to offer a critique of your wonderful writing but I have no intelligence or intellectual capabilities whatsoever." It's like the other day at breakfast. I had intended to say to my wife, "Could you please pass the Post Toasties.".............

Driving tip: Correctly read the other drivers. There are signals all motorists use to communicate with one another. If someone cuts you off, brakes short in front of you, drives below, or near, the speed limit in the fast lane, tailgates you, leaves their lights on bright, tosses garbage out the window, cruises along at six miles an hour when it's raining or honks loud and long at you there is one clear message they are trying to communicate, don't misunderstand it, "I am an idiot. If I'm a boy, I have a really small penis. If I'm a girl, my boyfriend has a really small penis."
There are exceptions, if someone honks loud and long at you and then bashes their car into yours they were really saying, "Please don't misinterpret the horn honk signal."
Pay attention, it's us (the good drivers with, or having access to, huge penes) against them (the bad drivers who text or talk on the phone, anything but drive, in lieu of having, or having access to, huge penes)

clarification: I don't have any issue with someone talking on the phone if they can do it and still DRIVE. I made that big because, when you're in a car, DRIVE has priority.

My Fault

Don't be so hard on yourself. You know how you always get in the wrong line at the supermarket or Wally world? I've heard you, you tend to say it out loud, "I always pick the wrong line...dammit!" Watch your tongue. You don't always pick the wrong line, I do. You just happen to get in line behind me. If you would pay closer attention and watch for me, you would be much better off.

Any time I'm there I stand and watch the other lines move quickly along. I have plenty of time to reflect and daydream. I've seen you, standing there behind me, getting all impatient and worked up. Imagine how that poor person at the till feels. When they got in line they probably had their checkbook all in order, their coupons alphabetized and all their merchandise was ticketed correctly. Unbeknownst to them, I happen along with my jinx, get in the line behind them and screw up their whole world. Suddenly all the items in their basket won't scan correctly. They drop the handful of coupons they so meticulously organized, for some reason the checkbook gets lost in the purse and they lose all math and communication skills.

Whenever I'm in line at Mickey D's and the person behind me gets grouchy I tell them to calm down. If they don't straighten up, then when the kid says my total is four dollars and sixty three cents, I'm going to hand him a twenty. I'll wait till he punches the twenty key on the register and then.....then, hand him sixty three cents. We'll be here till Thursday. Even assistant managers aren't told how to make change when the guy gives you sixty three cents after you punched the twenty key.

So lighten up. Next time you get in a line and it stops moving you should tap the person in front of you on the shoulder and say, "Hey, hows it going? I read your blog. I should have known better than to get in line behind you but, silly me."
I may look at you as if I think you have antennae sticking out of your forehead or even pretend like you're annoying me but that is just a code. It's really me. Why else would the line stop? Think about it. Don't get mad at the guy arguing with the checkout person. It's my fault, not his. He had no idea I was going to get in his line. If you ever get to the till and drop your coupons, look to the back. I'll be standing there. Sorry, my lot in life. My fault, not yours.

Driving tip: After 30 years on the road as a 'Professional driver', my favorite line of all time, and I've actually heard it a lot, is, "I knew if I passed that guy he was going to hit me." That, or some version (i.e.) "I knew that dog was going to jump out in front of me." If you knew that, why did you do what you did? The tip is: if you suspect something will happen... you should trust yourself. Don't get in a situation you know will turn out badly. Back off a little bit, let the guy behind you pass him and get hit. You will be delayed a second or two but, after they pull off to exchange insurance papers, you can take off again, and keep all your paint.

Seventh Grade

Whenever I do something stupid it isn't the least bit funny. Odd, how when anyone else does something stupid it tends to be hilarious. That time when I was in seventh grade for instance. Our sadistic teacher would occasionally make us humiliate ourselves. I'm sure it was solely for his personal satisfaction and one day, I'm going to pound him for it. He's probably seventy or better now so in another ten years or so I think I may just look him up.

The game was "honey if you love me smile". The idea was, some lowly kid would be chosen to approach another poor soul of the opposite gender and repeat that ridiculous phrase 3 times. If the victim smiled then absolution could be obtained by following the original purveyor around the perimeter of the room and back to her desk while chanting, "honey if you love me smile." If she smiled you were off the hook. If not, she was allowed to sit down and you had to approach another.

Her name was Darcy, she was beautiful, I smiled on the second "honey" and began following her and dutifully repeating the phrase. There were several giggles popping up around the room. She kept going, obviously without a smile. I kept chanting. The room eventually broke into a thunderous uproar of laughter. Spurred by my embarrassment and genetic need to win, I kept chasing her and demanding a smile. She made it to her desk. I was a loser, everyone was crying with laughter. On my way back toward my own desk somebody pointed out that my fly was open. My fly was open and my shirt tail was hanging out. Do you get that? Go put on a button up shirt, open the fly of your jeans, pull one side of that shirt tail out your fly and stand in front of a mirror saying "Honey if you love me smile." Can you imagine how I must have felt?
You can bet your last dollar that if I ever get a time machine and am able to go back to that day, you can bet that when I get ready for school that morning, I'm going to put on a longer shirt.

Driving tip: If you can't remember when was the last time you figured out exactly when you will arrive at your destination........You're too tired to drive. Get off the road and get a little bit comfortable. Sleep! If you get a little bit comfortable you'll sleep for a half hour or so, wake up with a stiff neck or shoulder but be alive and refreshed. If you get real comfortable you'll sleep several hours and wake up late and pissed at me for making you stop. You'll be alive, the world will keep turning, but you'll be mad at me. Being mad at someone also tends to wake you up. So I'll take the hit for your sake.