The Biting Fly

Chapter 7. Ripped Apart (continued)

2010-07-25T22:17:00Z

More of Chapter 7.

I left out the back door and I could see Aunt Ida still standing in the living room hitting at her hair. It was about noon and the sun was as hot as a six-shooter as I walked to the house. Nobody was home at my house. Daddy was at work of course and, seeing how it was Friday, Mama was probably at the beauty shop getting her hair fixed. I went in to the kitchen and scrounged around for something for dinner. Just to set things straight, our three meals are breakfast, dinner and supper. We generally don’t have lunch, although the cafeteria at school is called the lunchroom. Go figure.

Anyway, I found some goose liver in the fridgerator and tea left over from supper last night. I got that and some kinda bread Mama bought from a woman at church and made me a sandwich. I added two garlic dill pickles Mama Pope put up and went in to watch some TV. The Newlywed Game was the only thing decent on, so I sat down, ate my dinner and watched it.
I guess I was more tired than I thought, because as soon as I finished eating, I fell asleep right there on the couch. Then I started dreaming. I usually don’t take a nap, and my dreams are too strange to figure out, but this one was different.

I dreamed me and Ilene were on the Newlywed Game and Bob Eubanks was making eyes at her. I was getting real mad, but every time I started to stand up to go over and pop him, Ilene would hit me with one of those cards. Woody and Lord Cromwell were sitting in the next booth and the audience laughed whenever Woody said anything. They were asking us guys the questions and the girls had the answers written down, except for Woody and Lord Cromwell had the cards. Ilene’s cards had gibberish written on them, but she could read it. I have no idea who wrote down Lord Cromwell’s answers for him, but they ended up winning. Then I saw Aunt Ida and Uncle Lonnie standing behind the big rotating stage thing looking at the washer and dryer Lord Cromwell and Woody had won. But they were mad because they wanted an entertainment center instead. For some reason I was trying to help Woody climb over the front of the booth when I saw Ilene leaving with Bob Eubanks. She was all over him and, like Woody, I couldn’t get over the front of the booth. I woke up when my dinner plate hit the floor.

I was fit to be tied. I was so mad at Bob Eubanks and Ilene I could have spit. I picked up the dishes and took them back to the kitchen. I stood there gazing out the window over the sink, finishing my tea and thinking about Ilene on the beach in Florida. While I was pretty sure Bob Eubanks wasn’t there with her, I had to really work at putting it out of my mind.
Just as I was about to walk out the back door, I heard somebody knocking at the front. I went in and peeped out the living room window to see who it was. It was a dadgum sheriff’s car. I’d seen enough cop shows on TV to know that if I didn’t open the door, they’d kick it down, so I went over and slowly opened it a crack.

“Yessir? Can I help you?”

“Yes. Is Ruby Povine here?” the cop had on a cowboy hat and mirrored sunshades just like on TV.

“No sir, she’s not. Can I help you?” I was getting real nervous now.

“Do you know when she’ll be in?”

“Uh, by supper I’m sure,” I was sure he could see my knee shaking by now.

“When’s that?”

“Oh, uh, tonight!” I began to wonder why this guy was acting so strange. Everybody has supper at night.

“Well, son, I figured it would be tonight, I was wondering what time tonight?” He took off his sunshades and put them in his shirt pocket. I noticed he had a folded piece of paper in his hand.

“Six thirty or seven, depends on when she gets back.” I’m thinking that I’m giving up a lot of information here.

“Would you give her this card and tell her that I will be back around seven?” Reaching in his shirt pocket he pulled out a business card and shoved it through the crack in the door.

“Yessir. Can I tell her what it’s about?” I took another stab at getting some info from him.

“Thanks, son. I’ll be back tonight.” He said as he turned and walked down the steps back to his car.

I eased the door shut and looked at the card he had given me.

“Sonny McElroy, Deputy Sheriff, Fullerton County Sheriff’s Office.”

I didn’t know this guy from Adam’s house cat.

“Sonny McElroy, Sonny McElroy…” I had never heard of any McElroys around these parts, so I figured he must be from Okaluka or Snipe. He might have wanted to ask Mama questions about what me and Woody have been up to and how we fit into the moonshinin’ ring. As I thought about it, it seemed unlikely he’d just come by to ask questions about the moonshine stuff. They’d just arrest Mama and Mama Pope and go on about their business. Maybe he heard that me and Woody had been talking about the lawsuit and stuff. I bet that’s it. He was gonna tell her that we had been running our mouths about our lawsuit against the Sheriff’s office. But it didn’t go to court until September and they usually like to wait until you’re sitting in the witness chair to do stuff like that. They always make ‘em look bad that way on TV.
I stuck the business card in my pants pocket and went out the back door. Piddling around the garage, looking for something to work on or maybe a project to build, I found an old paper bag wadded up on the back of a shelf. No telling how long it had been there, but I had never noticed it before that I could remember. Opening it up, I found a yellow and blue Swan Chemical box. A lump of terror fell to the pit of my stomach. I knew exactly what it was but I had no idea it even existed anymore. My first impulse was to close the bag and put it back on the shelf. I wondered if anybody else knew it was there. This was evidence, pure and simple, and I needed to get rid of it before anybody found it.

I closed the bag up and ran back in the house to find some matches. Digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen, I found everything except matches. Jar lids, stove bolts, rubber bands, pink pencil erasers, a fork with one tine, a Sucrets box full of straight pins…I moved to the next drawer. Bingo, a book of matches. As I turned to run back outside, I realized I was soaking wet with sweat. I thought out loud, “Calm down a little and take a few deep breaths.”

I collected myself as best I could and slowly walked out the door. There was a rusty, old fifty-five gallon drum at the very back of the yard that we sometimes burned trash in. Most of the bottom was gone and there was a wad of half burnt catalogs still in it. That wet ash smell was heavy as I peered over the top of the drum. Standing there with the sack in my hand and then smelling that odor flooded me with memories I had tried so hard to forget.

I tucked the bag under my arm and ripped a match from the book. My hands were trembling like an old man. Sliding the match head across the strip on the back of the book everything seemed to be in slow motion. I felt like I couldn’t move fast enough, like I was suspended in molasses or something. I held the lit match between my fingers and reached for the bag with the other hand. Holding the bag over the drum, I moved the match to the edge of the bag. It ignited quickly. Still holding the bag, I rolled it over to make sure the box inside caught fire as well. The box had a few traces of white powder on it, but they disappeared with the flames. It was fully engulfed as I dropped it to the bottom of the barrel. The flame grew intense for a brief second then slowly faded. Most of the ashes dropped away as the box continued to burn. Then, when half of it was gone, the flame died and embers danced around the edges. I reached in as far as I could to retrieve the box and re-light it, but I couldn't quite touch it. A black smudge from the rim of the drum made a semi-circle across the front of my shirt. I quickly lit another match and pitched it into the drum. It started to die, and then the box caught fire again and continued to burn. This time it completely burned leaving only an ash standing in a curved resemblance of a box. You could faintly make out the line between what had been blue and what had been yellow.

I looked around and found a stick long enough to stir the ashes. I leaned over the drum and mixed the ashes as best I could. I threw the stick across the fence and gazed at the bottom of the drum for several seconds. Hopefully that would be the end of that nightmare but I had that feeling like somebody was watching me. As I walked back toward the house, I looked around the yard just to make sure nobody else was there. I felt so guilty. I tried to convince myself that everything was fine and nobody had any idea what I had done. I thought about calling Woody and telling him about finding it, but I didn’t want to say it out loud. I have no idea how Woody would have reacted. Stopping on the back steps, I looked toward the garbage barrel once more. That feeling of being watched rushed over me again. “Just guilt” I told myself, “just guilt.”

Cinnamon and Clovis

2010-07-24T01:35:00Z

The newest family members. That's Clovis on the left and Cinnamon on the right. They were preiously residents of a cat colony in a very unforgiving location. They seem to be quite happy at their new home that they share with their older cousins. These pictures were taken after drinking some kitten replacement milk. They are three weeks old in these pictures.

Clovis looks a little like a calf, doesn't he?

Cinnamon is a very busy little girl who loves KMR, long naps on a towel and digging her needle like claws in human ankles.

They are five weeks old in the photo below.

Star Wars on the Subway

2010-07-16T01:16:00Z

Chapter 7. Ripped Apart

2010-07-07T01:49:00Z

    Here's the next part of the story.....

    A week or so had passed since Lord Cromwell bit Woody. His finger had gotten infected, but he was getting better at changing the bandage and it seemed to be on the mend. Interestingly enough, Woody laid no blame on Lord Cromwell or Rhonda, he just chalked it up as experience. As a matter of fact, the Crabtree’s were going out of town next week and Rhonda took Woody up on his monkey-sitting offer. No money was to change hands, just a fun-filled week with a primate. They were going to Florida and her father had, in no uncertain terms, forbid Lord Cromwell from participating in the family vacation. Woody was on cloud nine and had promised Rhonda he would take excellent care of Lord “Protect Us” Oliver Cromwell. He didn’t ask Aunt Ida and Uncle Lonnie if it was okay or not, but I figured they wouldn’t mind, seeing how they had raised Woody and Lord Cromwell wasn’t much different, only shorter.
    I had gone to town a couple more times to see Ilene in the last week and we were getting along pretty good. She even said she didn’t want to go to Florida because she would miss me. And though I was jealous that she was getting to go on a real vacation, I told her not to be silly, I’d still be here when she got back. It wasn’t like some girl was going to come along and steal me, considering Ilene was the first girl that had EVER come along, period. She said that she thought I was nice even before me and Woody had our run in with the law, but I’m bettin’ that our notoriety had a whole bunch to do with it. Anyway, we like each other now so what difference did it make?So the big day for Woody got here and I went with him to pick up Lord Cromwell. I tried to explain to Woody that walking four or five miles in the burning hot sun, toting a monkey is probably not a good idea. Woody assured me that if Lord Cromwell got overheated, we’d stop and sit under a shade tree until he got his wind back.
    When we got to the Crabtree’s, Mr. Crabtree was loading up the car and the girls were sitting on the front porch with Lord Cromwell in a little cage. Beside them was a big ol’ bag of monkey feed, which I didn’t even know they made.
    “Lord Cromwell, are you ready for a week with Uncle Woody?” Woody cooed in baby talk, but he didn’t stick his finger in the cage. Lord Cromwell was doing his little grin and grabbing at the bars of the cage. If he knew “Uncle Woody” like I did, he’d make a break for it right now.
    “I hate to have him locked in this cage…he’s just not happy. I know he feels like we’re mistreating him,” Rhonda was sniffling a little as she hugged the cage tightly. “I’ve never been away from him over night since I got him. Are you sure you can take care of him?”
    “Shoot! Me and Lord Cromwell are gonna do fine. I’ve got lots of stuff planned for us to keep him busy all week. Me and Coy, Jr. will take good care of yore baby, Rhonda. You just go have a good time in Flar-der.” Woody was reassuring to Rhonda but I didn’t like being included in the “take good care” part of what he said.
    “Coy, I’m gonna miss you.” Ilene piped up right in front of everybody. Man was I embarrassed. I didn’t know much, but I knew from watching my parents when a woman says something that mushy, you better give her something sappy, sweet right back or there’ll be trouble.
    I blurted out, “I’ll miss you, too, baby.” I got that “baby” part from hearing my Daddy use it, but it sure felt bad coming out of my mouth. Rhonda looked at me like I was crazy and Mr. Crabtree who had walked up just rolled his eyes. Luckily, Woody was too absorbed in Lord Cromwell to hear what I said.
    “Girls, say your good-byes. We’ve got to get on the road.” Mr. Crabtree went into the house and I heard him telling Mrs. Crabtree that I called Ilene “baby”.
    “Let’s get going Woody. We don’t want to hold these folks up from getting started on their vacation.” I reached down and picked up the bag of monkey food. I didn’t know that helping Woody was going to involve physical labor, but I’d rather tote a twenty five pound bag of feed for four or five miles than have Lord Cromwell nipping at my fingers.

When nobody was looking I kissed Ilene on the cheek before walking down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. Woody fell right in behind me, steadily goo-gooing at Lord Cromwell who was screaming like he was being skinned alive. I was thinking that he was beginning to know what kind of week he had ahead of him.
We hadn’t gotten a quarter mile from the house when Woody decided he needed to take him out of the cage and let him “get some air”. I warned him that it sounded like a bad idea, but nothing would do him but Lord Cromwell had to be out of that cage. He opened the little door, stuck in his hand and grabbed Lord Cromwell by the collar. To my surprise, he came out of the cage, let Woody put his leash on him and climbed up on his shoulder for the ride. About that time the Crabtree’s drove by and tooted their horn at us. We saw Rhonda in the back seat going nuts, jumping all around. She rolled down the window and was yelling, “PUT HIM…” something or other about his back, we couldn’t make out the rest. We just waved at them as they turned the corner and drove out of sight. You know it was her first time to be away from him and all.

    By the time we got to Woody’s house, Lord Cromwell had poked a hole in the bag of feed, almost put Woody’s eye out, repeatedly dangled from the lease he had wrapped around Woody’s neck and torn the pocket off my shirt. Uncle Lonnie and Aunt Ida were sitting in the living room watching the Farm Market report and Lucky, Aunt Ida’s Persian cat, was laid up in her lap, as usual, sleeping.
    “What kind of John Brown dog is THAT?” Uncle Lonnie asked as he took the cigarette from his lips.
    “It ain’t no dog…it’s a squirrel monkey. He’s gonna stay with us for a week while his mama and ‘em are on vacation.” Woody said.
    “A MONKEY? You ain’t keeping no dadgum monkey in THIS house, mister!” Aunt Ida laid down the law.
    “He’s gonna stay in my room and you won’t even know he’s here.” Woody was holding Lord Cromwell like a baby, cradled in his arm. “He sleeps in this cage.”   When he lifted it up to show them, Lord Cromwell started howling and fightin’ like a wildcat. As luck would have it, the monkey jumped out of Woody’s arms, scurried down the back of the couch, did a wheelie on Aunt Ida’s head and disappeared into the hall. Lucky, who was now standing in the middle of the floor, looked like he had exploded. We ran down the hall to find the only open door was to Woody’s room and Lord Cromwell sitting on top of a wad of sheets and stuff piled in the middle of the bed. He was very excited and I figured it was time to make my exit. Aunt Ida was still dancing a jig in the living room hitting at her hair like a bat was in it and she was screaming bloody murder.
    Backing to the door I said, “Woody, here’s his food. It looks like you are going to have a wonderful week! I’ll catch you later.”
    “Awright. Go on then. I can take care of this fellow. Thanks for totin’ his food.”

Chapter 6. Ilene (conclusion)

2010-06-21T03:14:00Z

    The conclusion of Chapter 6....

    Friday finally rolled around. I was anxious about my date with Ilene, but not about meeting her folks. I had asked Mama if she knew them and was relieved to find out she did know Mrs. Crabtree and had not ever been in a fight with her. She said that Daddy had gone to school with Mr. Crabtree and that I was right, he does work at the hosiery mill. But he was probably not a mechanic because when he was in school he was real smart. Then she made sure that I understood that a person could be both smart AND a mechanic at the same time. Mama was always careful not to sit in judgment of people. How many times have I been told “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” She might hit ‘em upside the head, but she didn’t think she was better than them.
    I had planned for everything that could possibly happen on my date with Ilene tonight. I had plenty of money because I had cut two yards this week and hadn’t been nowhere since Monday. Daddy was going to give me a ride over to Ilene’s house because Woody convinced me it didn’t look right to have your Mama drive you to a girl’s house. And without a doubt your Mama would insist that you kiss her before she lets you out of the car. My favorite jeans, a pair of red, white and blue striped Levi’s bell-bottoms were washed and ironed and had a crease that would cut your finger. A brand new white shirt that I figured would look good since I was so tanned from working outside. A pair of black Wellington boots that had the straps and buckles. They also had a fairly wide square toe, which I really liked because I hadn’t seen anybody else with a pair like them. My hair looked okay, but I wished it was longer. I had practiced a whole bunch of things to talk about. I had even looked in the encyclopedia and read who Lord Cromwell was. And he was Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, not “Lord protect us” as Woody had stated. When I took a bath, I scrubbed till my skin was red and even cleaned my toenails. I put on plenty of bath powder, a large, wide, double coat of deodorant under both arms and some of my fathers Hai Karate aftershave. I even put powder in my boots. I also had found a tiny bottle of mouthwash called “Nips” in the medicine cabinet. One thing for sure, I was not going to stink.
    When six o’clock came, Daddy was not home from work yet. I was getting panicky and almost going to ask Mama to take me over there when he drove up. I ran out the door and jumped in the truck before he had a chance to cut it off.
    “Where are you going?” he asked as he slowly looked up and down my perfectly detailed attire. “Boy have you been in my aftershave?”
    “Yessir, now can we go?”
    “Where are we going?”
    “You are going to drop me off at the Crabtree’s house at exactly six thirty. I’m going to the picture show.” I knew we had covered this topic four times this week. Once every night since I had found out I was going on Monday.
    “Are you sure you want to do this? We’re having steak tonight.”
    “Well save me some and let’s go.”
    “Let me run in and tell your Mama we’re gone.”
    “LET’S GO ALREADY! SHE KNOWS, SHE KNOWS!” I was about to have a conniption fit.
    He sat there laughing as we backed out of the driveway and headed toward town. I was a little nervous and really didn’t need the pressure.
    “You know Henry Lee, Ilene’s daddy, is the head of Shipping and Receiving down at the hosiery mill. He’s been there, Lord knows, fifteen, eighteen years now. He and I both worked there afternoons in high school. Then I got on at the woodyard and Henry went to a business college or some such place. That boy made straight A’s all through school.”
    We turned the last corner onto their street and I already had my hand on the door handle and started to open it.
    “Hold on now! Don’t jump, let me stop first! Behave yourself. You need me to come pick you up?” Daddy slowed the truck as I got ready to bail out.
    “Yeah…about ten thirty or so. Bye.” I slammed the door and started up the sidewalk, my evening’s checklist running through my mind. I went to the front door and rang the doorbell. Mr. Crabtree opened the door and pushed open the screen.
    “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” He kind of smiled, anticipating an answer.
    “Uh...no…I’m…uh…Coy Povine, Jr. I’m here to see Ilene.” I was about to wet my pants. I actually looked down at them just to check, when I was walking into the living room.
    “Sure you are. You look just like your father. Come on in Coy. ILENE! Your date’s here! Have a seat Coy.”
    I looked around to choose a seat, but he motioned me over to the couch. When I walked across the wooden floor, my boots sounded like a horse clopping across the room. And when I sat down on the couch, the end of the cushion shot up in the air.
    “So, you’re in Ilene’s class at school? I went to school with your father years ago. We also worked together at the mill for a while.”

“Yessir. He told me that.” It was the best I could do. I was kicking myself for not practicing something to say to her parents. Mr. Crabtree sat down in what I would guess was his favorite chair. It was beside a table with a lamp and was in direct line with the TV. Reaching down beside the cushion of his chair, he pulled out a newspaper, then reached over and picked up his pipe from the table. He kinda favored Steve Douglas on “My Three Sons”.

“Ilene will be out in a second I’m sure. Make yourself at home.” He leaned forward and shook open his paper. Leaning back, he propped his feet up on a stool, clenched his pipe in his teeth, held up the paper and seemed to forget I was there. Without taking his eyes off of the paper, he picked up a lighter from the table and held it to his pipe. Three or four puffs and smoke started rising from the bowl, all the while immersed in his paper.

A few agonizingly quiet minutes had passed when out of nowhere came Lord Cromwell, as if he were shot from a cannon and shrieking like a banshee. He hit the stool then flew into Mr. Crabtree’s newspaper. Mr. Crabtree’s pipe dropped out of his now open mouth and fell between his legs. Lord Cromwell leapt to the floor, shredding the newspaper then disappeared under the couch. Mr. Crabtree was now standing up brushing the tobacco embers from his crotch. I did my best to remain calm.

“RHONDA! Come get this bless-ed monkey! NOW!” It was obvious that Mr. Crabtree and Lord Cromwell did not willingly share control of the household. Before I knew what had happened, Lord Cromwell came out from under the couch and grabbed my boot. Without hesitation, he started biting my toe and running his hands up my pants. Then, his head was up my pants leg and his hot little hands were pulling at my calf like he was trying to climb a tree. Rhonda ran into the room.

“EEEK! I’m sorry Coy.” She knelt down between the couch and the coffee table and started pulling Cromwell from my pants leg. His grip loosened and he stopped screeching. She talked softly to him as she stood up and cradled him in her arms.

“Sorry about that.” Rhonda walked out of the room just as Ilene came in.

“Hi! I’m ready.” Ilene walked over to her father and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll be back around ten or so.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I finally said something appropriate. We went outside, down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

“How’d you like my father?”

“He was awright. He thought I was some doctor though.”

    Ilene started laughing. “Did he say, ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’?”
    “Yeah, he did.” I was a little uneasy with her laughter and my lack of understanding about what was so funny.
    “He says that to nearly everybody that comes to the door. It’s just something he does.” She was still smiling at me and then deliberately bumped her shoulder against mine as we walked along.
    “I’ve really looked forward to seeing you tonight.” I told her without looking at her. Actually, with each step I was looking at the toe of my boot where Cromwell had bitten it. There were several tiny tooth holes and dozens of scratches on my nice black boots. You could see the natural leather color in each of the scratches. Dadgum monkey.
    “Good. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, too.” she said, then reached over and took my hand as we walked along. I quickly forgot about my monkey-scarred boots.

Chapter 6. Ilene (part two)

2010-06-15T03:58:00Z

More of Coy, Jr. ...

    I could hear Woody inside the house. He must have gotten over his quiet period and was warming up to Rhonda or, perhaps, Cromwell. It sounded like he was doing his Dean Martin impression, which was fairly good, but I can’t imagine doing it in public. “I’m going over to the couch now.”
    I could hear Rhonda laughing, which was unfortunate because it would encourage him to continue. Then I heard Woody talking baby talk, hopefully to Cromwell. A couple of seconds later, they walked out onto the porch and Cromwell was sitting on Woody’s shoulder.
    “Looky here Coy, Jr., me and Lord Cromwell are buddies! Yeah, we done kissed and made up.” Woody was puckering his lips at Cromwell and scratching him with his good pointing finger. It looked like the other hand had a bed sheet wrapped around it. They must have used an entire roll of gauze. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that his hand had been amputated at the wrist. Cromwell appeared content sitting on Woody’s shoulder. Like I said before, they must be able to communicate through some basic primal language.
    We sat around for awhile longer, Woody totally enamored with Cromwell. He must have forgotten that he wanted to go out with Rhonda. Not that it was ever going to happen, but it was strange that Woody wasn’t at the very least trying to make time with her. The most amazing thing was that Rhonda acted like she was fond of Woody. I was certain that she knew we were Povines. That always mattered to most folks outside our “circle” of acquaintances. Really it was probably more like a bent up hula-hoop of acquaintances than a circle. It appeared that Rhonda was as nice as Ilene.
    “Woody, we need to head on home I reckon.” I stood up from the steps, and turned to see if he heard me. Woody was sitting there with his eyes closed while Cromwell was inspecting his scalp. Every so often, Cromwell would grab something with his fingers and poke it in his mouth. It made my skin crawl to even want to think about what it could be. Rhonda reached over and took the monkey from Woody’s shoulder.
    “Rhonda, if you ever need anybody to baby-sit Cromwell, all you got to do is let me know. I think me and this fellow would have a blast.” Although they got off to a shaky start, Woody was excited about his new friend.

          “You two sure did hit it off, I mean after he bit you. He does seem to like you better than most folks,” Rhonda said. “I hope your finger is okay. Be sure to change the bandage often.”
    “Awright Coy, Jr., let’s hit the road.” Woody stood up, stretched and got one more rub on Cromwell’s fur.
    “See you later Ilene. Bye Rhonda.” I squeezed Ilene’s hand a little before I let go and walked out onto the sidewalk.
    “See you Friday!” Ilene said just as I turned toward the street. I cringed at the thought of what Woody was fixing to say. But to my surprise, he just kept walking, not even giving me one of his grins.
    We had walked down to the corner and were about to cross the street when Woody finally asked, “What you and Ilene doing Friday?”
    “Oh, nothing. We’re just going to the picture show.”
    “You gonna get your Daddy to drive you?”
    “I’ll get somebody to drop me off at Ilene’s and we’ll walk from there.”
    “Awright…you gonna get to meet her folks. That’s important you know.”
    “Uh…yeah” I stammered. I hadn’t even thought about that part. I had never met her father. Her mother had helped with some of our school class parties when I was a kid. I remembered the valentine cookies she made were always hard as a rock and had that glittery sugar stuff on them. I thought it was glass. Ilene’s father worked at the hosiery mill, a mechanic or something. I had seen him a time or two, but that was about it. Never actually met the man.
    “Man, I sure do want a monkey like that Lord Cromwell. You know Rhonda’s daddy named him that. After the some history fellow what seized an island. Lord protect us Oliver Cromwell, that’s his real name. Did you know he was a squirrel monkey and she got him out of the back of an Archie & Jughead comic book? Sixteen dollars and two dollars shipping. And did you see how smart he was?”
    "Woody, he nearly bit your finger off. What if he has rabies or something?”
    “Naw, he ain’t got no rabies. I saw his tag from the doctor. He was just getting used to me. But it does hurt. He bit it clear to the bone.”

    Woody held up his bandage and inspected it. It was turning pink on the end from blood.
    “Woody, that thing is bleeding pretty bad. What if you needed to go to the doctor with it?”
    “It is kinda throbbin’. I’ll just take me some aspirin when I get to the house.”
    “Well hold it up higher than your heart and it will quit that throbbin’. I slammed my hand in the car door once and I had to hold it over my head for two days.” Woody raised his hand over his head and held it there as we walked.
    “It has quit throbbin’, but it still aches. That bugger has got some teeth. I learned one thing today. Don’t never, ever point at no squirrel monkey."

Chapter 6. Ilene

2010-06-14T04:35:00Z

    I thought I would post a little more of the book, Coy, Jr. This is the first part of Chapter 6, when Coy takes up where he left off with Ilene Crabtree.  Keep in mind that Coy is only 15 years old and growing up in a time when there wasn't a steady stream of sexual inuendos flowing through the TV, movies and tabloid magazines.  He is truly clueless when it comes to girls.

Chapter 6. Ilene

    It was a blistering hot Monday afternoon and me and Woody had caught a ride to the parts place with Uncle Lonnie, who was headed over to Goat Run to look at some rabbits. We picked up some master links and half links for Woody’s mini-bike’s chain and started to walk back home. Our trip was going to take us right past Ilene Crabtree’s house, which I can’t claim to be by accident. Before I left the house I made double sure all the swelling had gone out of my face. The last thing I needed was to have to explain that I had an abusive Mama.

Ever since that day when Ilene asked me to the school dance, I knew what a moth felt like being drawn to a flame. I was absolutely scared to death, but hoped to catch a glimpse of her anytime I was in town. When we got there, she was sitting out on the front porch steps.
“There’s ol’ Ilene Crabtree, Coy, Jr. You gonna say hi?” Woody was grinning like a possum eating grapes and steadily elbowing me in the side.

“Of course I’m going to say hi. But you got to act right. Promise you will.” I didn’t trust Woody any farther than I could throw him. If anybody could say the wrong thing, it was Woody.

    When we got a little closer, she put one hand above her eyes to block out the sun and waved at us with the other. One minute later we were sitting on the Crabtree’s front porch talking about school and stuff with Ilene. She was telling us about one of the teachers fussing at somebody, but I wasn’t really listening. I was looking at her and thinking. And I’ve got to say, this was the first time I had ever thought about stuff like this. The more I looked at her, the more I realized how little attention I had ever paid her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back away from her face by a wide, blue hairband. Her hair fell softly down her back, to just below her shoulders. It was so straight and neat, not a single hair sticking out, but it didn’t really look fixed or nothing. It was just pretty and shiny. I could tell it smelled good just by looking at it. Whenever she moved her head a ripple would go through her hair like when a rock hits pond water. Her brown eyes were always kinda half shut, but would fly wide open every now and then when she said something important or surprising. She had a hint of a giggle in her voice most of the time. I counted seventeen little freckles on her cheeks and nose. They seemed to stand out since she had been in the sun for a while. And her teeth were as straight as any I had ever seen, even on TV. Her lips were pink and smooth, not wrinkled like I always thought lips were supposed to be. You could see that she had pierced ears, but she wasn’t wearing any earrings. The lobes of her ears looked like they would be as soft as a marshmallow. I wanted to reach over and pinch them. I started looking at the curve of her neck. It was graceful the way it seemed to flow down to her shoulders. I had seen her nearly every school day since I could remember and some way, some how, I just didn’t notice that she was so attractive. And then I started thinking about the fact that I had never thought of anybody as being beautiful unless somebody else did too. Everybody thought Wanda Jo Suggs was pretty. But nobody had ever mentioned the fact that Ilene Crabtree was downright fine.
    My study was interrupted by a screeching sound coming from inside the house. It was a familiar sound, but I couldn’t put my finger on just where I had heard it before. Woody had jumped up and was cocking his head side to side to get a better listen. He had a look on his face like somebody had asked him the square root of seven thousand. The screeching kept on and lured Woody all the way over to an open window.
    “Ilene, what on earth is making that racket?” Woody asked, “Have you got a baby brother or something?”
    “Woody, that doesn’t sound like a baby brother to me. It kinda sounded like a baby pig.” I said without considering that it might actually be a baby brother or something.
    “Yeah, Woody. I guess you could say it’s my baby brother.   That’s Cromwell.” Ilene was beginning to frown a little.

“Cromwell? You got a brother named Cromwell? Coy don’t we got some Cromwells in our family?” Woody was as serious as he could be.

   “Naw, Woody. I don’t know of any…” I was getting embarrassed because I just called her brother a pig.
    “I’ll bet you don’t have a Cromwell like our Cromwell.” You could see Ilene was not happy about this Cromwell fellow at all. The screeching had stopped and Ilene’s big sister Rhonda walked out the front door with something sitting up on her shoulder. I did a double take then realized it was a MONKEY! Woody had stopped dead in his tracks. The monkey wasn’t making a sound. It was sitting there staring at Woody. And Woody was doing the same thing. The monkey leaned over and put his little hands further out on Rhonda’s shoulder, looking at Woody and sniffing the air. Woody started to slowly move around Rhonda, never breaking eye contact with the monkey. Woody and that monkey were just like two dogs meeting for the first time. I was waiting on one of them to sniff the other one’s back end.
    “Fellows, meet Lord Oliver Cromwell,” Rhonda introduced him like he was guest speaker at the Lion’s Club. Then, I swear that monkey smiled. Never being one easily fooled by false gestures of friendship, Woody was still wary of him, but was beginning to move a little easier.
    “Can I touch him?” Woody whispered, never taking his eyes off of Cromwell.
    “Sure. Just be easy with him,” Rhonda cautioned as she wrapped his leash around her fingers a couple of more times.
    With his pointing finger extended, Woody slowly moved his arm toward Cromwell. Cromwell was smiling again as Woody got closer. Woody was smiling, too. And then, like a dadgum cobra, that monkey’s fangs popped out and he latched onto Woody’s finger. He grabbed a hold to Woody’s arm with his hands and feet while wrapping his tail around him and stayed clamped down on his finger.
    Rhonda had a look of panic on her face as she desperately tried to peel the monkey’s hands away from Woody’s arm. Woody was standing on his tiptoes showing his teeth to Cromwell and making a hissing noise. They must have communicated on some primal basis, because Cromwell let out a blood-curdling screech and leapt onto Rhonda’s head. I could tell things were getting under control now because you could see it on the girls’ faces. It must be normal for him to sit on her head.
    Woody was still holding his finger out. He didn’t say a word, just changed his hissing sound to an inward sucking noise. Blood was dripping off his finger and splattering onto the gray boards of the porch floor.
    "Are you okay? We need to clean that bite right away and put some ointment on it,” Rhonda said as she reached above her head and stroked Cromwell. “He’s had shots…he doesn’t have any diseases.” Rhonda reassured as she reached out with her free hand and took Woody’s arm. Woody had an expression of total astonishment on his face, he would look at Rhonda and then look at his finger. Rhonda, then his finger again.
    Rhonda walked over to the screen door, Cromwell on her head and leading Woody by the arm. Opening the door, they disappeared into the darkness of the house, Rhonda apologizing to Woody and scolding Cromwell in baby talk, Woody never saying a word.
    “Daddy said if he bit one more person, he was gonna hafta go. Rhonda is going to be very upset. That monkey is like a baby to her.” I could tell Ilene was worried about the situation.
    “Then don’t tell your father. It’s just Woody. I promise he’s been bit by worse things than a monkey. And in worse places for sure.” We started laughing and sat back down on the steps. Things got quiet as I leaned back and propped my elbows on the next step up. I looked out into the yard, not really focusing on anything, just feeling uneasiness creeping up on me. Ilene was sitting a step below me facing toward the yard, bent a little at the waist, her arms crossed and on her knees. I looked down at her, noticing how small her waist was and how neatly her shirt was tucked into her jeans. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder at me. I quickly darted my eyes upward then back down to her face, trying to be nonchalant.
    “What are you looking at?” she said teasingly with a grin on her face.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I wasn’t…I mean I…” words stumbled out of my mouth as I grew increasingly red.
    “Yes you were. You were looking at me, weren’t you?” she continued to grin, never taking her eyes off of my face. I was completely lost at that moment with no idea of what the right answer might be. This was uncharted territory.
    “Yes, I was looking at you.”
    “Why?” The word lingered on her lips. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and ears. Should I make up something, tell her she had a bug on her back, tell her she sat in something, or had a hole in her shirt? I almost jumped up and ran. Then she leaned back, put one hand on my knee, the other on the step and brought herself up beside me.
    “Why were you looking at me, Coy?”
    “I like to look at you.” I said it, but it felt like somebody else did. She was still smiling.
    “I like for you to look at me. And I like looking at you, too.” She gave my knee a squeeze and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. This was the greatest event in the recorded history of mankind. I realized that I had been waiting my entire life for this moment and didn’t even know it.
    “Your eye looks a little puffy...have you been in a fight?” Ilene was squinting one eye and kind of leaning back looking at my face. I could tell she was comparing my eyes with one another. Now I was going to have to explain how it happened and that’d be it. Nobody wants to get involved with a bunch of rednecks like my family.
    “Uh...naw...I haven’t been in a fight.” My first lie to Ilene. I hated it.
    “It looks kind of swollen and a little dark underneath.”
    “Oh, I know. It was from last week. I stepped on a rake and it flew up and hit me!” God, now I was using Woody’s lies. I was gonna screw this whole thing up before I even got started. Nobody with a half a grain of sense would believe that one.
    “Kinda like the Three Stooges, huh?” Ilene grinned and poked me in the ribs with her finger.
    “Want to go to the picture show Friday night?” I figured I better nip this thing in the bud. This was a bold move, but I was on guard for the rug to get snatched out from under me at any moment.
    “Sure. That’d be fun.” She said and I could have sworn she blew in my ear.
    “Okay. Then you’ll meet me there?” This was getting easier as we went along.
    “How about you come over here and we’ll walk together. About six-thirty?” Ilene asked.
    “Yeah. I’ll come over here.” This was a piece of cake I thought to myself. A big ol’ piece of cake. In reality, she had me eating out of her hand and I didn’t want to stop.

Today's Find

2010-06-06T05:06:00Z

Today I was loading some gravel to put on a ditch bank and something in one shovelful of rocks caught my eye...

It looked like some kind of fossil.

It had an interesting pattern.

Then I turned it over...

A very nice little coral fossil.

Actually, it is fairly large considering it came out of some #3 gravel.

You can only find fossils if you keep your eyes open. So keep looking!

A Turbo Encabulator for the Hootis

2010-05-30T05:07:00Z

Since I realized I was having problems with side fumbling and already had a drawn reciprocation dinglearm, I've decided to try swapping out the old Hootis transmission for a surplus turbo encabulator I picked up at a government liquidation auction. Hopefully it will reduce that irritating sonesoidal replineration.

Not a Pretty Sight

2010-05-27T21:03:00Z

This isn't pretty at all. As a matter of fact, it's sickening...in more ways than one. Click <MORE> below for a live feed of the oil gushing into the gulf. The only reason I'm posting this is in hopes it will go away very soon. These are live feeds so they may freeze or not come up at all, so be patient. For more information about the health hazards this spill poses, click here.

The Ottercoon

2010-05-27T01:32:00Z

Racoon lying on back eating

Busted Hootis

2010-05-23T17:23:00Z

Well, the hootis is in for repair. The transmission wasn't quite strong enough to hold up to the impact loading I put it through. The other day I was moving some dirt and I heard a little rattling/grinding sound coming from the transmission. Within seconds it became a popping sound followed by some bucking and jumping. I managed to get back to the shed in high gear, but the lower gears were shot.
So I pulled the transmission so I could see if it was worth saving. I've done some transmission repair on lawn tractors before and discovered it was just about the same cost to replace the entire transmission than to buy some gears and replace them. Unfortunately, that's not the case this time. A new transmission is a little over $1000.00 and a used one goes for about $250.00. Either way I had to pull out the old one so I could repair or replace it. Considering it has a back hoe built around it, I figured it would be a little difficult to get out, but that wasn't the case.

The extricated gear box...
Of course a couple of bolts broke off when I was trying to open it up. Steel bolts always need anti-seize when used in aluminum. These bolts have been in for about 14 years...

Next, remove the brake....

Brake pads and rotor are okay....

Remove the gear shift. Uh-oh! First sign of trouble. Look in the little pool of oil down in that hole. WAITER! There's a tooth in my lube!

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here...

Yep, lot's of damage. Notice missing teeth on the reversing idler gear.

Looks like the tooth fairy's dumping grounds. Obviously some of these gears were "gumming it" considering that pile of broken teeth.

The final drive pinion has a little bit of superficial damage, but hopefully not enough to matter. I'm not going to replace this one. I'll probably wish I had...

Gears that will be replaced. Total cost, about $125.00 and some lube.

To be continued....

We All Have Bad Days

2010-05-18T01:53:00Z

We all seem to have bad days. You know, when the wrong words just slip out of your mouth...accidently on purpose...or things slip into it...or you just don't know what the hell is going on.

But it's in the form of a question...

The female anchor's expression is better than the slip-up...

This guy must have some pent-up frustrations. He gets quite graphic...

Rosemary ain't up in here...

Ashley's first day...

Air Filter Replacement

2010-05-04T18:22:00Z

I'm sure this will be about as interesting as watching paint dry. I had Craftsman riding mowers for years, but they just weren't built for the rough terrain I've had to cut. Everytime I needed to cut the grass, something had to be fixed first. Usually it was one of the 90" long belts that lasted about two cuts. Several years ago, fed up with the constant maintenance, I bought a Scag Tiger Cub zero turn mower. It was a wise choice. It cuts beautifully, easy to maintain, super-heavy duty...only one little defect, though.
The air filter clogs up too easily. The design of the Kawasaki 19 hp engine has a tendency to suck dirt up from behind the mower deck and deliver it to the carburetor. On later models, they changed the air filter design and offered a remote air filter for retro-fit to older models. One little draw back...they wanted well over $300.00 for the kit. While replacing the engine would cost alot more than that, I knew I could do it more economically. The trick was to find the time to do the work. So, the other day the engine was running poorly because of a clogged air filter and I went to NAPA to buy a new filter. 20 BUCKS! And it'll clog up after one cutting. I bought it and decided it was time to make my own.
Some time back I saw that Surplus Center had some canister type air filters for sale. I think they were around $20.00, but I don't really remember, anyway I bought a couple of them. I also needed some bent tubing of the same diameter which I just happened to have. It came from Summit Racing for some other project (I don't remember which one) and cost $16.00.

This is what the new NAPA filter looked like after one use. If all the dirt was on the outside, that would be okay, but unfortunately it seemed to always bypass the filter.

Over time, this stuff will kill an engine. Look how dirty it is down at the venturi. Below is what the intake should look like.

The air filter that I wanted to use is a canister type and quite large in comparison to the existing filter element. Of course it has much more surface area and a housing to catch dust.

I decided to mount it directly over the engine and put braces down to the mower frame. This should reduce vibration somewhat. I think it will need some extra bracing, but for now I decided to use 1" x 1" x 1/8" angle and just weld the housing directly to the angle. I had drilled holes in the angle legs where they would mount to existing bolts on the frame.

Once I located the filter, I placed the bent pipe on the carburetor intake to determine the angle. I marked where I would slot it.

I cut it along the marks and then welded it to a 1/4" flange I had made to fit the carburetor intake. I should have shaped the flange like the intake opening, but the stock air filter had an oblong slot and didn't compensate for the extra area, so I figured it wouldn't be any worse than from the factory.

I never claimed to be a machinist, so sometimes my parts don't look factory-made. I also had to cut the bent tube at the 90º point and weld on a 1" piece to attach a hose. Anyway, I didn't take a photo of the welded up tube, but I also added two standoffs so the engine cover would still fit and capped the end of the tube. Below is the finished intake.

I ground my welds since I have some expert welders in my family and didn't want to offend them with my earthworm welds. I cut a piece of heavy rubber for the gasket and then used a piece of foam on top to make sure I had a good seal. I painted everything and mounted the filter over the engine. I connected the filter to the intake pipe with a 2" OD x 12" hose I purchased at NAPA for $12.00. The finished product is below.

Hopefully this investment of about $50.00 will save me much more and make the engine last a lot longer. Normally when I do something like this, I can't wait to try it. But, hey...it's a lawn mower. I definitely CAN wait to try it. Unfortunately I've got several acres of grass calling my name right now.

Lose Your Marbles?

2010-05-03T17:00:00Z

As I told you, folks in my family like to look for stuff. Here are some marbles that were found by family members, mostly my father, over several decades. There may be one or two of the ones I played with as a kid (probably the cat's eyes), but most of these are substantially older than me. Heck, some of these are actually older than The Sister! (Smithsonian, eat your heart out).

All my marbles

Note the faint red and green lines

Not a good photo

Red Clay (I think)

Mars?

A portion of the first photo

Another portion of the photo...

Yet another...

and another...

and the rest.

Finally, a close up of three of the larger clay marbles.

Some of these marbles probably belonged to Chocktaw Indians several hundred years ago. Of course, The Sister found some of these...outside the cave. The rest, other than the few that were mine or from my era, belonged to kids my father might have known seventy something years ago or their ancestors.

Are You Aware of the Unitarian Jihad?

2010-05-03T06:04:00Z

Finally a Jihad of moderation. If you're like me, I've grown tired of all the "Be like me or die, die, die!" Jihads. How often have you said, "Why can't our Jihad be less time consuming and stressful? I hardly have time to get the kids to soccer practice." So here are a couple of links to get you started.

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Spikey Mace of Reasoned Discussion.

Get yours.

From the Driveway

2010-04-25T01:20:00Z

My family has always had a proclivity to look for stuff. Well, not my Mother, but all the rest of us do. A few weeks ago, Duhneice, The Sister along with the Terrorist and the Ape went over to Murfreesboro, AR to the Crater of Diamonds State Park. Unfortunately they didn't have much luck, but they gave it a shot and had a good time. We've also spent quite a number of hours looking for arrowheads (or as my nephew once referred to them, 'easterheads') and other relics. Something I would like to do and I'm sure they would as well, is to go over to Frankstown, MS and search Twenty Mile creek for sharks teeth. It's free and pretty much a sure thing.
Anyway, one thing I've done since I was a kid is look for fossils in the gravel drive. Seems like you can always find something if you look hard enough. Generally you find a lot of crinoids, or plant stems. When I was a kid I thought they were neckbones. As far as identifying any that I find, I generally ask the Sister and she'll recognize them. "Oh yeah, we had one of those growing outside the cave." All the ones below came from about thirty minutes of looking out in the driveway.

CRINOIDS

This gives you an idea of how small they are.

They come in wads, too.

Interesting little imprint.

Crinoid.

Gastropod, perhaps?

Coral

Coral, I think.

Reverse side

Not a fossil, but still interesting.

You Learn Something New Everyday

2010-04-25T00:50:00Z

We had some pretty good storms this morning but it cleared off nicely. So, after the sun came out we went for a walk. I spotted something that looked rather odd up in a cedar tree. Cedar-apple rust.

This stuff appears on cedar or juniper galls after spring rains. It is a fungus and will ruin apple trees. The apple trees will get blisters on the leaves and bad spots on the fruit, then the apples will fall off prematurely. We've got a number of apple trees and always have some problem that prevents a harvest. Now, I know why we've had troubles. I didn't know these cedar-rust galls were in the area, but, alas and alack, they are.

As you can see if you rub all the mushy tentacles off, you get to the gall itself. The little orange tentacles are what produces the spores. According to what I read, you can have either apple trees or cedar trees, but probably not both. It's impractical to think that you can get rid of the cedars, so I guess we'll have to take our chances with apples for a while longer.

We've Expanded

2010-04-20T03:20:00Z

A couple of weeks ago I came home from work and noticed a "FOR SALE 20 ACRES" sign at the top of our road. As I went down the road I saw another sign just past our drive on the property that had been set aside by the original land owners as a buffer between the subdivision lots and them. All of the lots in our subdivision were 5 or 7 1/2 acres and the buffer was 20 acres. My first thought was that they probably wanted an arm and a leg for it and then I thought about someone grabbing it up and putting a row of houses on it. I didn't want that to happen so I knew I needed to check into it. Luckily, Duhniece knew the real estate agent representing the seller, called him and he in turn called me. I made an offer, the owner accepted it and about a week or so later we closed.
We don't have any plans except to maybe cut some hay off of it prior to, more than likely, making it into a tree farm. But for several years I've noticed a tree nestled back among the honey locust and sumac that was totally different from all the rest. Now I was able to get closer to it and finally figured out what it was. A Chinese Empress or Paulownia tree.

This is a non-native species that has been in this country for a couple of hundred years. Interestingly enough, the seed pods of this tree contain a very soft, papery seed.

(oregonstate.edu/dept/ldplants/images/pato6770.jpg)

The seeds were used as packing material to ship porcelain from China and the crates often leaked, strewing seeds along railroad tracks. As it just so happens, the railroad track, built in 1855, runs a few hundred feet from where the tree sits today. But then again it could have been planted there decades ago by someone who wanted a fast growing, flowering tree.

So, I guess I got something unexpected out of the deal. Oh wait, I also got another acre of grass to cut down by the road. And trespassers camping back at the far end next to the woods. Life is full of surprises.

If Wishes Were Horses

2010-03-03T23:25:00Z

This is a great song that never got enough airplay.

She doesn't even have a Wikipedia page!!! Is that even possible?

If wishes were horses

If wishes were horses
beggars would ride
and we’d leave this town you and I
we’d beat the sunset
be there by dawn
leave our troubles far behind

Chorus:
that’s not how life goes
everybody knows
it takes a long long time
a long long time
to get it right
it takes a long long time

We wouldn’t leave a trail
silent as the night
pretend that nothing's really wrong
we’d follow every train
I know the way
by the time they woke we’d be long gone

Chorus

We wouldn’t even have to fight
or say they were right
nobody’d even have to know
where it is we’d go

We wouldn’t need no cash
to make our escape
your arms in mine
would be our home

Chorus

Life's Lessons

2010-02-07T00:39:00Z

Stop, Look and Listen

2010-02-04T02:38:00Z

    Do you remember the old saying to "Stop, Look and Listen" whenever you come to a railroad crossing? Have you ever thought that it was not only good driving advice, but an excellent guide stone for daily life? Essentially, it tells you to take time to gather necessary information and process it with YOUR own brain. Whenever you see, hear or read information provided by others, remember that data needs to be processed once more in order to be properly understood. I could make analogies to computers and such, but I think you get the gist of what I'm saying.
    I've been unfortunate enough to hear some of the statements about the self-mashing Toyota accelerators (remember here in the South we don't press the accelerator, we mash it). Talk about over-reacting!  I fully understand that perhaps 19 deaths have been "attributed" to this hazard and don't make light of these people's loss.  Brook Shields said it best: "If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life." (I apologize. I know that was uncalled for.)
   People listen to what some government official tells them and take it for the gospel. When I read that Toyota was pressured by the government into making this recall, I immediately think about how much money our government has invested in General Motors. They really need GM to get back on it's feet. Remember the Ford Pinto? It was produced from 1970 through 1980. Twenty seven people burned to death in Pintos but, in 1974 when Ford knew of the problem, the National Highway Transportation Safety Administration (NHTSA) said the Pinto had no recallable problem. However, the NHTSA did pressure them to fix the problem and in 1978 Ford finally issued a recall. Interestingly enough, Ford defended itself by indicating that the distasteful cost analysis it used for not issuing a recall was required by the NHTSA. The recall was of 12.5 million Ford vehicles. Compare that to the 2.3 million Toyota's with the alleged accelerator problem.
    Altruism is a rare commodity. When our government officials show interest in my well being, I always ask myself, "What's in it for them?" Yeah, I know that's what they are paid to do, but I always wonder if they are doing it for the pay they get from us or the pay they get from lobbyists. Perhaps it's just an 'investment' into their future. One of the best pieces of advice that I know is to think for yourself. USE YOUR BRAIN. Educate yourself. Don't depend on others to take care of you. That's your job. This stuff makes the Libertarian in me show through. Perhaps you, too? See where you really stand when in comes to politics by taking this little political quiz.

The Carpal Tunnel of Love

2010-01-27T23:55:00Z

    If you suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome you definitely need to consider surgery.  I have commiserated with my wife and her CTS for quite some time. She couldn't sleep, waking up during the night with her hands hurting. She had lost feeling in her fingertips and had difficulty holding on to objects. In short, she was miserable. When she finally decided to go to the doctor, he told her that on a severity scale from 1 to 10, she was a 10. He explained the CTS surgery and that it might be too late to fix the damage. If the nerve is under pressure long enough, it could be dead. If that was the case, she probably wouldn't get the feeling back in her fingers.
    So, about a month ago, she had the left hand repaired. We went to the outpatient surgery center and in about three hours, she was out and headed home. The majority of the time is spent in pre-op and post-op. The actual surgery took about ten minutes. She was given twilight sedation and was able to converse during the surgery. Considering how loopy she was after the surgery, I don't want to imagine the conversation that might have gone on. We spent most of the time in pre-op with her drinking tea and talking about her favorite subjects (I won't go into them) with the nurses.
    It took only a couple of weeks before she started having feeling come back to her fingers. Since everything went well with the left hand, she scheduled surgery for her right hand. There was little swelling and no soreness. The scar is about 3/8" long on the inside of her wrist.
    Yesterday she had the right hand done and the actual surgery took eight minutes. Apparently the sedation was a little heavier this time because she was out during the entire surgery and was about as goofy as I'd ever seen her afterward. When I went back to post-op she was drinking apple juice and telling the nurse it was the best apple juice she had ever tasted.  She drank three cups of the stuff before I got her out of there. Of course she insisted on knowing the brand before we left. The nurse obliged and told her it was Makers Mark (which is a Kentucky bourbon) then corrected herself and said "Members Mark" from Sam's Club.   On the way home she decided she was hungry and wanted some chicken so we went through the drive-through window at Chic-Fil-A . After we got the chicken strips and waffle-fries, she wanted to stop and eat it in the car. I pulled into a parking spot facing the street filled with rush hour traffic. The afternoon sun was blindingly bright coming in the side window as she munched her fries and dipped her chicken into the honey mustard sauce. Still goofy from the anesthesia, her bandaged arm over her head, she looked at me and said, "This is so romantic."
    She's doing fine today. She's out and about like nothing ever happened. The nurse called this afternoon to check on her and asked if she'd gone to Sam's Wholesale and gotten her apple juice yet. I would recommend anyone suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome to see a surgeon. It's not a big deal and it makes you enjoy the little things in life...like chicken nuggets and rush hour traffic.

Lady Gaga "Speechless"

2010-01-21T21:13:00Z

It thought I'd add this video since "Speechless" doesn't get as much airtime as some of her others. I actually like the studio version of this better, but there apparently isn't an official music video. This is a great song....

Lady Gaga Wants your "Ugly" (don't worry, you've got plenty to spare)

2010-01-13T02:01:00Z

Alright, I'll admit I have odd taste for my age. But I've always had one standing rule and that is to give a singing, half-naked woman the benefit of a doubt. Some months ago, I did just that and found that I absolutely love Lady Gaga's music. So, you might not be hip (like I obviously am), but don't judge this book by it's cover...or lack thereof. This woman is an incredibly talented singer, songwriter and performer. If you've never heard "Bad Romance", I hope you enjoy it and welcome to planet earth. If you don't, sorry...maybe this is more your speed (click)

There are some kids with amazing, enviable talent out on the innerwebs that have dared to make covers of this monumental hit.

Okay, Igor ain't a kid anymore, but he can wear a guitar OUT...

I hope you enjoyed that...I certainly did.

Illogical

2010-01-12T03:02:00Z

    I don't know about you, but I have a long history of movie watching. I get it naturally, though, because my father watched every movie that came on television.  Quality was never a factor. Generally, the only requirement was that my mother had gone to bed. That meant we watched movies that came on late at night. A regular Saturday night event for us, mother excluded, was Terracina Theater on channel 6 out of Greenwood, Mississippi. "Hi. Frank Terracina here with another fine movie for your viewing pleasure." Obviously Frank thought we were easily pleasured because his idea of 'fine' was something like "Four Guns to the Border" or "Fort Dobbs". On occasion he would give us a thriller, but it was usually a western.
    While many towns had theaters called the Bijou, the Strand, the Palace or the Majestic, ours was called the "Ricky". The neighboring town had a theater run by the same people and it was called the "Danny". Catchy, huh?  As you guessed, the owners named them after their kids. The first movie I went to see by myself, at the Ricky, was "King Kong vs. Godzilla". Actually, we didn't refer to it as a movie, it was the 'show'. Anyway, one of the things I began to notice even while I was a kid, was that the movies didn't always use logic.
    Did it ever bother you that Godzilla came out of the sea, after spending years in an iceberg he was immediately able to breath fire. So why didn't he just breath fire and melt the iceberg? Was his pilot light out or something? That just doesn't work for me. King Kong had to fight an octopus before he got drunk and was captured. They loaded him on a barge and tied him down with some high strength fishing line. I remember the Japanese guy swinging out over the balcony of the apartment building to demonstrate the line. Anyway, they use electricity to stop Godzilla from totally trashing Japan. So, Godzilla has atomic fire breath, but he can't handle electricity? Okay, so be it. But then they turn around and have King Kong actually get stronger from the electricity. That seems so unrealistic. Of course at this point you realize you're talking about an giant atomic fire breathing lizard awakened from an iceberg and a humongous ape that fought a giant invertebrate and is ballooned to Mt. Fuji for the finale...just as the Japanese planned. So maybe logic isn't required.
    But it's not just the 60's movies that utilize poor logic. Remember the movie "Gremlins"? That one was loaded with illogicity (I don't think that's a real word). I'll give you the not feeding them after midnight and never get them wet business. But how did the bad ones know to sing Christmas carols, dress like Humphrey Bogart (let alone finding that little trench coat and fedora), and flash people? So i watched that and just went with it...like i was supposed to. But when they had the big chase scene and Gizmo was driving the Barbie car all over the store, I told myself, "those things don't accelerate like that! They don't have brakes, either." Of course at that point I realize I'm accepting the fact that a Gremlin is driving it.
    Anyway, that's my thought for today.

The Perfect Gift

2009-12-16T23:39:52Z

    Well here it is the middle of December and once again I haven't done my Christmas shopping. I never know what to give people and when you ask they either say "it doesn't matter" or "nothing".    I have bought enough bad gifts in my life to know that either of those responses is a lie.
    One Christmas when I was a kid I bought my mother a wonderful gift.  I put a lot of thought into it and really searched for the perfect gift until I was sure I had found it. A Dazey Donut maker!

She didn't have one and I knew she liked donuts. Who in their right mind doesn't like donuts? And is there anything better than a hot donut? I think not.  Anyway, I purchased this unique and clever gift, lovingly wrapped it and presented it to my mother. She didn't like it. She didn't come out and say it, but we all knew she didn't like it. My sister explained that gifts should be personal...for the individual. Geez...it was a Dazey Donut Maker! That's like free donuts for life! I didn't give her a damn football or green army men. She was our cook for Pete's sake! Cook donuts, make me happy and in turn you'll be happy. It all made perfect sense.
    She never made a donut with it. I promise if you asked her she'd claim she made tons of them, but I know she didn't. But I made some. It only made cake donuts. I didn't know that when I bought it. Actually I didn't know what a cake donut was nor did I care. If it had sugar on it, I would eat it. I mixed up the batter, I cooked them and I ate them. And I'm sure that I shared them even though I shouldn't have. Imagine not liking a gift like that!
    So as all the years have past I have done my best to avoid that mistake again. But the urge has lingered to give her a vacuum cleaner or a nice set of ice trays.

Google It

2009-12-12T04:43:00Z

Have you ever paid attention to the "query suggestions" that Google offers when you start typing in a search word? It's fairly amusing and there is even a web page dedicated to it. I wondered, "Can Google provide helpful hints?" So I typed in the word "Never" in the search box and then offered a few starting letters (of course I choose 'do not filter my search results'...it's a Libertarian thing). Here is a list of ten things Google suggest never to do. The bold part is what I typed in.

10.  Never tell a girl to calm down
9.  Never touch a black man's radio
8.  Never give a cheerleader a keyboard
7.  Never look at a gypsy's balls
6.  Never throw rice at a pisces
5.  Never lick a dead man's hand
4. Never slow dance with a zombie
3.  Never bite a married woman on the thigh
2. Never spit on your shoes
1. Never trust a big booty and a smile

These certainly seem like good, solid advice.

Google is such a magical thing, it can answer any question. Some you didn't even know to ask. For instance...

Do they dream of mauling zebras? [What do tigers dream of?]
Can an opinion be wrong? [Not if it's mine]
Can you not have a belly button? [How about if I just fill it in with lint?]
Can you pick up a ups package? [No. But you can kick it like they do.]
Can you circumcise yourself? [If I'm drunk enough.]
Can you describe the ruckus? [Do you mean the one while I was circumcising myself?]
Can you fart in your sleep? [Yes...and wake myself up.]
Can you fire a gun in space? [Yes, but you would have to get it past security first.]
Can you laminate at kinkos? [Only upstairs...in the VIP lounge.]
Can you milk a hamster? [Yes, but that little stool is a bitch to use.]

It's That Special Time of Year

2009-12-04T02:17:00Z

    Oh how I look forward to this time of the year! When there's a nip in the air and a fire in the hearth it can only mean one thing. It's time to tell the world how old the Sister is!!!
    She once told me that she had first hand knowledge that the Garden of Eden was really just a truck patch and mostly turnips at that.
    She also said that in her opinion the Big Bang was more like a thud than a bang.
    Maybe she's not quite that old. Mother told me that when Sister was born it was certainly a happy day in the cave. Then things quickly took a turn for the worst when Mother mistakenly nursed a sloth bear the following two weeks. But being the tough little cuss that the Sister is, she somehow made it.
    She once did a cave painting of dogs playing poker.
    These days she an unofficial consultant for the History Channel. If there's a question about skinning out a brontosaurus or the size of a mastodon foot, she's a fountain of knowledge. But I'll tell you one thing, we don't like to go over to her house on holidays because we always end up sitting on the couch chewing a deer hide while watching a show about the extinction of the dinosaurs and her mumbling, "That's not what happened. It wasn't a meteor. It was the damned mosquitoes."
    She's pretty easy when it comes to birthday presents. A sharp stick or a rock that fits her hand pretty well will usually make her happy. I gave her a couple of sail rabbits* last year and she fashioned herself some really nice slippers out of them.
    Anyway, I hope she had a nice birthday and the people from the Guinness Book of World Records didn't harass her too much.

* a rabbit that's been run over so many times there's nothing left but a skin.

Here We Go

2009-11-28T16:11:00Z

    Okay, I got up this morning intending to get something constructive done today, but while reading the news with my coffee I knew I had to stop and pose a question to the world. What the hell are we becoming in this country?
    Two things. First, the Tiger Woods accident. Tiger Woods had a wreck in front of his house and was injured. Leave it at that. Why do we need to know where he was going? Why does the media need to speculate on marital problems? If he broke a traffic law, give him a ticket. If not, then drop it and let his insurance agent take care of the rest. Since when did the LACK of evidence of wrong-doing become "charges pending"? Have we gotten to the point that we MUST discredit and destroy everybody simply because it makes a good story? I think that every "news" reporter should provide FULL DISCLOSURE of every breath they have taken since birth. At the very least, they should provide us with one unseemly detail from their own life every time they write one of their hopeful smears about a private citizen. Just because Tiger Woods is a celebrity doesn't give anyone the right to speculate on wrong doing. If there is evidence of him breaking the law, fine...that's public domain. If not, then shut up.
    The couple that "crashed" Obama's state dinner should be given a major award. They performed a service to the American public. They clearly indicated how much we have actually gained by spending billions of dollars beefing up security in this country. Why can't the Secret Service simply say they screwed up and didn't do their job? Instead we are going to learn every sordid detail of the lives of the "uninvited guests". Apparently if we totally trash them, we'll feel a lot better about ourselves.
     Do you see a common theme here? Its the "let's do our damnedest to bring down others so we can see how good we are" syndrome. This is what we've become, a people more interested in pointing out the bad in others (true or not) than improving ourselves. Some people think it's human nature. I think if you can identify it, you can change it. Measuring yourself by other's accomplishments, or the lack thereof, makes you a complete failure every time. So if Tiger Woods has some dark secret or the party crashers eventually get arrested, won't we feel smug?

The Young and Stupid

2009-11-25T03:48:00Z

For some reason I was blessed/cursed with a very good memory. I am able to remember about 75% of all the good things that have ever happened to me and about 99.9% of all the bad or embarrassing experiences. When someone asks my most embarrassing moment it's like a virtual buffet of mortification.
    One of those moments took place in the third grade (I might have already told this one). We were lined up in the elementary school hallway waiting to go practice for a Christmas program and across the hall, a little farther ahead, was a girl that I had a crush on. She was in the fifth grade, I believe, and she stood so quietly in line, her golden hair radiating like a halo. She didn't notice me at first, I'm sure, but after we stood there for a long, loong, looong time, I couldn't stand it any longer. I was never good at pick up lines, so instead...I wet my pants. I think she noticed me.
    Other times I was just dumb. Kids today are a lot more savvy than we, or should I say "I" was in those days. When I was in the fourth grade there was only one creature walking the Earth that struck me as terrifying...

The wolfman. (We didn't have any Jehovah's Witnesses in Podunk) Oh, I knew he was a fake Hollywood monster but for some reason I was pretty darn sure that his existence was within the realm of possibilities. The Wizard of Oz's flying monkeys were absolutely petrifying but all they would do is pull straw out of a scarecrow and take your dog. (Of course they didn't show us what flying monkeys would really do to you.  Any idea how many aerial feces bombardments that they had to cut out of that movie?) Anyway, the Wolfman dressed like your average blue collar worker and then killed people every full moon.  Just look at the picture. This was somebody's father in a pissed off mood!! (I had a belt just like that except mine had a little metal pistol on a chain.) I even remember one time he took on Dracula. Of course Dracula wasn't scary because he wasn't real. I mean, biting people's necks and drinking blood...PHHFFTT! That's fake AND dumb. Really what are the odds of those two running up on each other? That's like King Kong vs. Godzilla. It's just not natural. It's not gonna happen. Now, Godzilla vs. Mothra, okay that's more believable. Fake, but geographically much more plausible.
    Anyway, a friend and I thought that we could send something like $3.00 to Hollywood and get a REAL Wolfman mask. Luckily I didn't have $3.00 or I might have lost all faith in mankind. No doubt we would have put a wad of nickels and a hand scribbled note in an envelope addressed to "HOLLYWOOD" and dropped it in the mail. Instead I spent what little money I had on a plastic Wolfman model. I think it had something like two pieces, a front and a back. You glue it together and put an awful paint job on it, then set it on your shelf and be scared. It was a waste of money. Of course today it would be worth a hundred bucks, but I'm pretty sure I put a firecracker in his butt and destroyed him. You know, to this day when I hear the Beatles song "If I Fell" for whatever reason I think of walking home right after sunset, late October with a full moon rising over leafless trees and thinking the Wolfman was out there somewhere...waiting to kill me...or at least make me wet my pants.

The Fetish

2009-11-20T02:22:00Z

    Do you have a fetish? No? Liar. Everybody has some type of fetish. That little something that you find a turn on that most other people wouldn't understand so you keep it to yourself. I've always found myself attracted to quirky little things that I didn't imagine anybody else liked. But, thanks to the internet, I now know that I'm not even a blip on the bizarro fetish radar screen.
    For example, I've always had a thing about widow's peaks and that hairy forehead that some women have. Yeah, it's goofy. I'm not talking a full Eddie Munster, but more like these...
(by the way, I stole those pictures)

Okay, so that's not really odd, now is it? Also, nice feet are generally something that many, not all, but many men find attractive. It's really easy to understand because the feet are very curvy. Interestingly enough, larger noses are nice, as well and glasses which are a very nice touch. These seemed pretty normal to me. But I did a little research on the internet and found out that some people take it a little farther than that.
   For starters, an internet search for women with large noses led me to find something called Pinocchia. There are people that like to draw broomstick noses on attractive women for their, uh, own personal pleasure.

Go figure....

    Then, I found a forum about women with glasses. No pictures, but some guys describing what they liked to see. You're thinking little black frames or Lady Gaga sunglasses, right? Nope. These guys like women who REALLY need glasses...with really thick lenses. 20/400 vision or worse. Maybe that's a good thing, I don't know.
    But hold on, there's more. There are the guys that like girls that can pick them up. I don't mean like pick you up at a bar, I mean that can pick you up and carry you around. If you don't believe me, go to Youtube and search "lift and carry". I can see how this ability could come in handy. Say when you've got on some really nice dress shoes and the yard is muddy. Maybe Tom Cruise is into this, too.
    But the one that I really can't figure out is www.carstuckgirls.com. I'm not telling you to go there and look, but...go there and look! How in the hell do you get turned on by attractive women getting their cars stuck? Perhaps it's the damsel in distress thing or maybe a psycho looking for a victim. Who knows?
    Then there's always that latex thing.

If it doesn't just scare the living shit out of you. Or perhaps you're more of the my little pony type.

    I think what this really means in the big scheme of things is that no matter what you've got going on, there's somebody that can out do you...in a big way. So if you've been self-conscious about that huge mole on your neck that looks like Fidel Castro, don't worry. There is a guy out there somewhere that would just love to..............