Posts (page 2)
This is how she celebrated the event.
By the way...that's a brand new bedspread she is laying on. She's the only one that could get away with it. Did I tell you that she was Mommy's favorite child?
Recently, while looking around my VOX neighborhood, I noticed something called “The Question of the day.” That day the question was “What are your family responsibilities?” It struck me as an interesting question so later I devoted some pondering time to it.
At first the thought entered my mind that no one would read a list that I might compose that included all my personal duties within my family, legitimate or imagined.
Another thought I had, which was also a question was, “How does one become responsible for something; anything within their family group?”
I didn’t believe that anyone would enjoy reading the list of 100 things about me that I composed a year or two ago either but I came to find out just how wrong I was about that also.
I want to take a stab at making a list of my family responsibilities in spite of that risk that posting it here has the potential for boring lots of folk, or not. For that statement to be true I would need to have a lot of regular readers and I don’t believe that I do, really.
The first thing on my list should be:
- Being wrong about more things than anyone else in the family.
I believe that may well be because I am so eager to show off my accumulated life skills.
Among my siblings I have always been known as “Professor Know-it-all” and for good reason.
It’s because I’ve always believed that I DID…Know-it-all that is. When it turns out that I don’t know it all then I am deemed to be wrong, thus the motive for item number one on my list.
All joking aside, I do seem to have a much longer list of responsibilities than any other family member.
In an effort to have anyone who may be reading my lengthy list to be fully informed and aware, I feel I should provide another list and that is a list of who it is that makes up MY little family group.
Me, myself and I (Husband, brother-in-law and human to our pets)
Maureen (wife, sister and top human to our pets)
Gail (sister to Maureen, sister-in-law to myself and number two human to our pets)
Jenny (Top Dog, spoiled rotten Bitch that she is) Can I say that here? Sure I can
Lucy (Cat) enough said.
On with the list:
- EVERYTHING…especially when anything goes wrong with anything.
OK! I took the easy way out. That’s the way it seems to me but we all know that I am wrong so often that this is probably one of those times.
Actually it would probably be easier to make a list of the things I know for certain I am not responsible for in our family group.
Just as I thought! I can’t come up with one thing.
This evening we had bacon and tomato sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner.
It was while I was tending the pot of soup while Maureen was frying the bacon that the details of one of life's strangest phenomenons occurred to me.
Perhaps you too have noticed how impossible it is to heat a pot of tomato soup hot enough to allow for you to ladle it into a bowl or in this case, a soup cup and have it remain hot enough to enjoy. I mean soup SHOULD be hot, so hot that one needs to blow on it before sipping it from the spoon. The only way one can accomplish that with tomato soup is to eat it right out of the pot while the soup is boiling in said pot.
There’s just no way any of you could imagine what kind of day this day has been. Believe me…life is certainly stranger than fiction. It didn’t take a lot of creative energy to come up with that old saying.
It started out just fine. Maureen whipped up some of her now famous and renown sausage gravy that it only took her thirty years to perfect but it was worth the wait. She also made some scrambled eggs and some canned buttermilk biscuits. It was a breakfast fit for any King I’m acquainted with. That’s not saying a lot but it says something.
The weather was supposed to be great today. It was! That’s not the problem. I’ve got so much yard work that needs to get done before spring is gone and it will probably be a challenge trying to squeeze it all in before the deadline. I decided to start off by taking the five gallon gas can up to the local station and filling it. I can figure a little and with the price of gasoline right now, I figured there was a good chance it would take neigh on to eighteen dollars to fill it. I was very wrong. It only took ten dollars and ten cents. There must have been more left in it then I had calculated. That’s when I made the first mistake of the day. I should have picked up some oil also while I was there so I could change the oil in the two mowers while I was getting all my powered gear ready for the up-coming season. I filled the can and headed back home without any oil. That realization would cost me another short trip. Jenny didn’t mind at all. She will take all the short rides I will share with her any time.
It was as I took the gas can out of the car that I took notice of how filthy it was. I decided to clean it up before I did anything else. I got a bottle of spray cleaner and a small scrub brush and took the gas can and the cleaning items to the hose located at the front of the house. I was busy making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear when Maureen came to the front door and informed me that the smoke alarm upstairs in the hallway was beeping again. OK I said. I thought that was all that was required for such a bit of information. See how wrong I can be AGAIN. Next thing I knew, Gail came to the kitchen door that leads out into the garage and is yelling at me that the smoke alarm was blaring and Maureen couldn’t do anything to make it stop.
In my head, I’m asking all kinds of questions as I rushed to the rescue. The noise was deafening and only got worse as I climbed the five stairs to the upper landing. Maureen had a chair sitting there to get up on to reach the alarm. I had just put in three new smoke alarms. Why was this one acting up? I reached up, twisted it loose from its base, turned it over and pulled out the new nine volt battery in has installed only a week or so ago. The noise did not stop. Turns out it was the twenty year old smoke alarm that we all assumed had bitten the dust many years ago. They are wired into the main power source and didn’t require any batteries. I had assigned them a non-functioning classification a long time ago. I have no idea what set it off and why it wouldn’t stop blaring. There certainly wasn’t any smoke in the area. I didn’t know how to access the inside of it. I simply got up on the chair, glanced at the housing and read “Twist to remove.” I applied all the grip and power I had in me to get the cover off. It came off alright. It broke the three mounting pins, shearing them cleanly from the mounting fixtures which held them. All that accomplished was to remove any barrier between the noise generating mechanism and my ear, giving me clearer reception. I used the cover as something to beat the little housing with that was making all that racket. The more I beat it, the more sporadic the tone became. It became intermittent and then the periods of silence grew longer and longer until it stopped completely. Everyone in the house appreciated it, especially the dog and the cat and myself since I was closest to it. The dog and cat had moved to the point in the house that was farthest away from the sound. That was somewhere in the pantry area down in the basement. It took me a long time to determine that I couldn’t cut off the power to the old smoke alarms. I flipped every circuit breaker in the box and had no affect on the tiny indicator lamp inside the unit upstairs that Maureen was watching so she could yell to me that it was off. I had to do something else. I went back upstairs, got up on the chair again and looked the situation over. “AHA!” I exclaimed as I spotted the release mechanism for the circuit board on which the main smoke alarm elements were mounted. I pushed it aside and pulled down on the circuit board and all the “guts” came out in my hand. It simply pulled away from the little plastic connector that was mounted in the smoke alarm base. “THERE! That should do it. It won’t be making any more alarm noises for no reason.”
That’s the way this whole day went. I went from putting out one fire after another. NO! Not actual fires. That’s just a metaphor. Everything I put my hand to turned into another problem. I know…that’s what I get for working on Sunday. You don’t really want to go there…believe me. I’m in no mood for any of that stuff.
This entry is already two pages long and I’ve barely scratched the surface of the details involved in such a great tragedy of a day. I’ll spare you the details now and by tomorrow or the next day I probably won’t be able to remember any of it. That’s one of the good things about losing one’s short term memory.
April 3rd, 1971, the day Maureen and I tied the knot, so to speak. Actually, it was more like Super gluing than knot tying. The bond was non-breakable after only a few moments and that bond has been tested endlessly over the last 37 years. It may have stretched a little now and then, but it has never been broken.
“Happy Anniversary!” she blurted out yesterday morning as we sat here in this room watching what the DVR had recorded for us the night before. It’s just what we normally do on any other day. It didn’t feel wrong for either of us, even if this was a special day, one that should be celebrated. We HAD plans but they were scheduled for “later.” We would do some shopping, then take in an early movie over at the megaplex and then decide on some place to get a good meal. That should get us back home around three in the afternoon.
The movie starts at 11:45 so that gave us an hour to look for a new computer cart to replace the huge cabinet my computer set-up now occupies. We found two that could suffice so we decided to mull it over and make a decision after watching 10,000 BC, our movie of choice. The movie was pretty good. At least it had a happy ending and we love happy endings. We will only pray that what we are planning for our little family room with also have a happy ending.
We decided which one of the two choices was best, stopped to pick one up on the way to getting that anniversary meal we were looking forward to, got it loaded in the back of the RAV-4 and headed over to Dixie Highway. Maureen suggested this little Italian place she had gone by many times lately, often telling Gail that she intended to try it one day. One Day was here!
Really, I don’t know how to describe it to you. Actually I believe the less I share with you…the better. Allow me to sum it all up with one statement. I don’t know why the health department hasn’t closed it down by now because of the countless violations I observed within five minutes of walking in the front door. Believe me, you don’t want me to get started.
NOW…here is the shocking part of it all. I closed my eyes and ordered a Hoagie Supreme. Before I began eating, I prayed over my meal. I did it because I believed I would be lucky not to end up with food poisoning when all was said and done. I won’t identify the establishment.
I don’t know why…I just won’t.
Go ahead! Ask me how the food was. I dare you!
With the first bite I was transported in my mind back to the days shortly after Maureen and I began our life together. We loved Pasquales’ Hoagies. There was a little one on Monmouth Street in Newport, Kentucky that made a sandwich to die for. We have often sat around talking about those times and how much we wished they were still around. As of this time I am of the opinion that our wishes have come true.
Before we left the place I stopped by the front counter and offered up my praise to the food, how it has taken me back all those years to our early Happy Days. Need I tell you that everyone within earshot seemed a little shocked by my words? I was being honest. In fact, I made sure to ask if they deliver to our area. If it was that good sitting in the midst of all that I witnessed, how much better would it taste at home?
When we returned home at two-fifty, I opened the heavy carton the new cart came in and set about assembling it. I needed Gail’s help before I got it finished. Maureen was up stairs preparing the extra bedroom (now officially our storage room) to accept everything we end up moving out of our little family room in order to make all the changes we have planned.
How’s that for a way to spend your anniversary? Maureen and I liked it. That’s all that matters.
I was wondering…is there anyone else out there that has some “cute” little behavior belonging to them and their better half, one that only some very close relatives know about and possibly witnessed being played out?
MLB and I have one that’s been with us for almost 38 years.
Once in a while, one of us will go to the kitchen and make a sandwich, bring it back and place it on the small table that sits between our individual chairs in the TV room. Suddenly, we think of something we forgot to go with said sandwich and hurry down to the kitchen again to get it. When we return with it, sit down and reach for our delicious looking sandwich, we notice that someone has taken a very large bite out of it.
We usually ask “What happened to my sandwich?”
The other one, who may be still chewing on the stolen bite and speaking with food in their mouth, will explain…”As soon as you left the room this huge Vulture swooped in through the window, took a big bite and flew right back out again.” That always gets a big smile from both of us.
It had been a while since either of us had any opportunity to steal something from the other like that. Then, Easter came around. You know, stores usually have plenty of Easter candy left over that they need to get rid of before it gets stale. This Easter was no different and considering the fact that Maureen is now working for a chain type grocery, she had opportunity to take advantage of their after Easter sale. She came home with two boxes of Papa’s chocolate covered marshmallow eggs, one each of light and dark chocolate coatings.
Me having diabetes, I’m not supposed to eat such things…BUT, being human, a very weak human that loves that kind of candy, when Maureen came up here with two of those eggs last evening and laid them on the table and went into our bedroom for something, I remembered out cute little behavior. I said loud enough for her to hear…”I hate to tell you this but a huge Vulture just flew in the window and I think he has his eye on your candy.”
She shouted back…”Well that Big Vulture will leave my candy alone if he knows what’s good for him.”
“OK! I’ll try to hold him off but he’s bigger than usual and seems determine to have a piece of your candy. You had better hurry! I can’t hold him off much longer. (There is a loud scream) best as I could conjure up with one of those eggs in my mouth…Then I yell…”He’s pecking me in the eyes and scratching my cheeks with his huge, filthy talons that I just know he had been holding down a piece of carcass with only a short time ago. I simply can’t hold him off. I’m bleeding profusely.” With that…I got quiet as possible.
Maureen didn’t even come in to see what had happened. She turned to the right as she came out of the bedroom, returned to where she had stashed those eggs and got herself two more before coming back into this room.
My head hung in shame but I was smiling all the while and I believe there was some thin, chocolate spittle oozing out of the corners of my mouth when I did look up and smile.
I was glad to see that she was smiling too.
How about you…………
Are you smiling?
I’ll bet you are.
There are some that believe it “morbid” to call a day when someone died an unusually cruel kind of death “GOOD Friday.” I’ve thought it myself many times but that was before I came to understand and appreciate what the world has gained by such a death.
We call it GOOD but it was, without a doubt, the best thing that could have happened for you and me. It was GOODER or better than GOOD.
For over two thousand years now, mankind has been blessed with the opportunity to have life’s slate wiped clean so that one might be able to start all over again. It was the greatest “Do-over” ever granted to anyone.
Twenty-four years ago, when I was forty-three, another man was crucified and then born-again, a new creature because of what Jesus Christ made possible on that first GOOD Friday. That man was me.
I’ll always be thankful.
Watching too many series discs of "Third Watch" that I rented from Netflix has gotten me into a melancholy mood.
I've found that music is the cure for it. I have this recording of baby brother singing "In this life" that I always play when I get this way.
I posted it before on my old Blog so I thought a new audience wouldn't mind a relaunch of an old favorite of mine.
If you want to listen, please turn on your speakers and then click the following file. I hope to enjoy it.
One of the reasons this recording means so much to me is because this Brother of mine died suddenly in the spring of 2004 of a massive heart attack. He was the first of my siblings to pass on.
Since then, we lost one of my older sisters to breast cancer. Just recently, my oldest sister has been admitted to a local hospital a couple times. She has diabetes too. It seems to run in our family. Her body will collect excessive fluid around her heart, in her abdomen and ankles. They admit her and remove as much as 40 pounds of liquid and give her other medications which brings about improvement enough for her to be released.
She tells us she is so tired of it all and really would like to go home to be with her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. None of us doubt that she's ready to go.
Thinking about such matters does little for my own melancholy spirit or mood.
Does anyone else besides me find it curious how quickly an increase in the cost of a barrel of crude oil trickles its way down to the meters on your neighborhood pumps?
Man! If our government was as fast with promised refund checks, we would have spent it the same day it was announced. Just saying.......
Whomever is in charge of gouging patrol and taking guilty parties to jail needs to get an injection of the same "juice" the oil companies and their retailers are getting.
I wonder if they are required to wear a condom while screwing us?
Is there anything worse than getting into a movie, enjoying it immensely and then, just when one would expect an exciting and informative climax, one that ties up all the loose ends that were dangling up to that point...the director uses his creative license and stops the movie right there?
I'll answer my own question and say YES! There is something worse.
I hate to resort to what some might believe to be a vulgar allegory but the worse case scenario and allegory I came up with was SEX. That's right...SEX!
No one I know would say that sexual intercourse without a climax is any good, let alone GREAT.
So why is it that the people who produce the Academy Awards thought that "No Country for Old Men" was worthy of any nominations at all?
I actually believe that most movie lovers are as myself. They are not that complicated with respect to the movies they love. If someone likes one particular movie over many others they have seen it's because that movie touched them in a special way or it spoke to them about life, how it is in reality or in their dreams.
Most of us want to see the bad guy get what's coming to him. A lot of bad guys in "No Country for Old Men" did get what they deserved but the baddest of the bad; we simply do not know his fate by the time the movie ended. We are not sure what happened to the two millions dollars in cash that was the reason for all the bloodshed. We did not see the main character's wife die. It was only suggested...not revealed. We saw the main character or some body that looked like him laying in the open doorway of a seedy motel but we didn't actually see how he came to that end and who did it. It was only implied from a great distance. There was just too much that we would like to have known but instead, we came away scratching our collective heads and wondering..."What the heck just happened."
If I had more than two thumbs, I'd turn them all down as a rating for the movie.
I think they should try it again, only this time, give us what we want, not what you think we should get for our money.
I'm mad as can be about it too but all I can do is vent and all that does is make me feel just a tiny bit better. I know it's not helping anyone else who paid good money to see it unless that feel better by being in a crowded boat.
And one more thing...I wish I understood what that story Ed Tom Bell told there at the surprise ending had to do with anything so far as the plot line of the movie went. Was that what passes for a metaphor down in Texas?
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