Giraffe Carafe

Giggles in the air.  Toddlers chasing.  Adults telling silly stories.  Diners diving for desserts saving fried chicken for later.  

We were sitting at the long white dinner table, relatives and visitors on all sides.  I told the incident to brother, sister-in-law, their granddaughter, my friend, and whoever else was sitting nearby.

Granddaughter was laughingly involved with her young aunt, being silly with sparkling eyes and not really paying too much attention to me.

"I broke my carafe!"

Ahs of sympathies and surprise.

"All because the bell sleeve of this red blouse caught the handle!"  I raised my arm to show the sleeve off, "It fell to the floor before I could catch it."

"It was awful, glass went everywhere, it shattered into a million pieces!"

Their granddaughter said, "Giraffe?  You broke a giraffe?"  

I laughed, "No, I broke a carafe."

She looked blank.  She'd never heard the word.  Her grandmother had to explain it was a clear pot to a drip coffee maker.  Then granddaughter turned to her playmate, whispering, laughing.

"Yah," I said, "I broke a giraffe.  The horns went that way.  The legs shot off across the floor in the opposite direction.  Who knows where the head went but the spots just exploded and filled the air like stars from a sparkler!"  and I did the wiggling fingers in the air mime.

She laughed, her eyes got big with an idea, "It's purple tongue reached up and slapped itself in the eyes!"  

Yes!  Way to embellish!  A joke I could look up to!

Dear Hubby Passed Away A Week Ago Saturday

 Turn on the lights!

And shut that door!

There are no words, only screams.  

Get out of bed, get out of my head.  

Shut that door, HIS closet door of reminders.  

"Turn on lights," years earlier HIS mother had said.

Baby steps.  

Morning routine.  New.

I haven't changed the sheets in weeks.  For today....I make the bed.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow I change the sheets.  Baby steps.

I have no reason to live, but I do.

So I brush the teeth and brush the hair

and put on clothes though no-one'll care.  Baby steps.

All are gone - back to their own homes

                     - back to work

                     - back to their families

                    - back to full lives and others smiles

I ponder what to wear all the while

Though no-one's here to care.

A maid is what I need.

A maid to do my work,

Cause something's heavy in my chest that I need to address.

Something's heavy in my head.  A stone is my heart.

The thoughts and cries of disbelief want a voice, want heard, want gutterly uttered.

Sensible me, self-preserving me, wants no part!

If I had a maid 

to do my work

I could sit and fight and wrestle -- those demons address.

Baby steps.

Morning routine.  New.

So, I swish and swipe and wonder at the necessity of it all.

As I dress another door is shut.  Not HIS, mine.  

Block the reminders, shut the door.

Save the sanity, 

Swallow the screams

Dress in your go-to-town no-one-cares blue jeans.

Check the laundry and fold the clothes. the blue bath towel is HIS, so threadbare.

Threadbare.

I'm threadbare.

HE was threadbare.

The towel can be replaced.

That's all.

Noelle Notes Sequel

NOELLE

Unusually, Rusty, my oldest, stopped by with only one of his kids, Noelle.  Usually all of the grandkids vie to ride to GrammyPam's.  Noelle's 4 years old and quite articulate.  She be-bopped into the open garage door and proceeded to indulge in play with the red basket of rubber duckies.  

She's learned from Miss Lilly, her cousin, to pretend they are Halloween ducks because two of them wear jack o-lantern cut-out pumpkins, one is a doctor, one's a pilot, one's a pirate, one's a red striped sailor, and another is a baby wearing a diaper, never-mind the green, and pink ducks.

Today she pulled out a larger one that was purple with wings and announced, "Fairy Duck!"

Paying more attention to my task at hand than listening to her, I asked, "Fairy Duck?"

Noelle raised it high in the sky and squealed, "SEE?"

I looked over while she continued talking, using such big words for a toddler, "It's fake, yah, it's a costume."  

***

Like I said,Rusty came over with Noelle.  While he helped John on his truck, Noelle and I played rubber duckies, then we gathered firewood.  She?  ONE PIECE!  Then, it was chase the cat!  

Both...gone!

Isn't that the way?

***

Noelle, 4 years old, had been playing with a Barbie doll.  She'd asked me earlier, "Could you brush her hair softly?"  

Such cute phrasing.

So, the one extra was Barbie.  I had to take her out of Noelle's hands to buckle Noelle in, but she was totally upset, so I buckled Barbie in, too, in the empty spot.  Noelle had to make sure.

"Did you buckle her?"  She twisted in her booster seat to make sure. She made a decree.

"Her good to go."

***

Then, it was time for Noelle to go.  Before hugs and kisses goodbye, she quizzed me.

"Remember that night, GrammyPam, when we had  a sweep over?"

"And we did a puzzle on your phone -- the puppy?  Can we do a puzzle?"

In order to get her to go to sleep during that particular sleepover, I had claimed my phone was dying.  She evidently remembered because she continued asking questions.

"Did, is, your phone charged?"

And, I kid you not, she clasped her hands under her chin, tilted her head, and blinked her eyes, could Shirley Temple have looked so cute.

"Can we have a sweep over?"

MISS Lilly and Master Jacob at Play

You wouldn't believe the things they played on Friday.  For one thing, Lilly buried the rubber snakes in the dirt, then filled the tub with water and gave them a bath.  For another she took some of the scrap wood and pretended to build a fire complete with chairs and wagons circling.  Jacob left in the family truck with two suckers, one in each cheek, crossing in front of his lips!

FRIDAY

Jacob addressed me after I unpinned the ramps of his daddy's red trailer so I could back the New Holland skid steer off.  He's short, he's 4 y.o., and he's very articulate.

"You can't do that.  Daddy will be very mad."

Surprised, I was, to see him there, 'cause I'd made sure there was no kid around to get hurt.  Those ramps are steel and heavy and go "thud" when let down.  Anyone, including my toes, could come away seriously hurting, but in this case junior is afraid of daddy, ROFL.

What's funny was his stance.  And, it's difficult to describe.  He was slightly bent at the waist, looking a bit askance and away (not eye to eye) with his hand up, palm up.  He looks like a little preacher!

"You can't do that.  Daddy will be very mad."  And he emphasizes with shakes of that hand.

"See, daddy will be mad."

"Then you will be mad at him!"

THEN ON SUNDAY

There had been an excruciating outcry from down the hall, it was a girl's.  John went down the hall, then he came back.  He'd checked, resolved, and reported.

"The situation is under control.  Lilly had found a spider and pandemonium ensued!"

***

Jacob is the same little corker that was turning the pages of a pop-up book.  And when the orange and brown spotted snake popped out towards his belly, for all the churchhouse to hear, he pretended to be scared and loudly exclaimed, "Ahhh, a 'nake!  He bite me!"

***

THEN YESTERDAY

10 of us at McAlisters Deli spread over 3 tables, food arriving intermittently.  John, my dear hubby, with his back to us, bowed to say grace.  I wasn't sure who was, or if they were done, since I can't hear all that well in all that noise, so I sneaked a peak.  

Little 4 year old Jacob had his right hand in the air at his ear like holy hands raised to heaven, one eye closed, the other peeking.  With head leaning forward, lips pursed in an o shape, he dipped his head to his red straw and surreptitiously slurped a sip! 

Noelle Notes

NOELLE

Noelle was 3, this was a while back, when I had put a hair clip in her hair.  She'd been bent over the table trying to use water colors on her paper.  But she didn't appreciate my attempts to help her by pulling her hair back so she could see unhampered.

"Get it out!" 

Ew, that hurt!  Quick as a wink, she reached up and ripped the hair clip loose! 

***

Noelle, here on another Sunday, was drawing and coloring and cutting with all the other grandkids.  She was 3 y.o. and so proud of herself, showing me this 8 x 10 blank piece of paper with 1 inch unequal snips all around the other edges.  Full of grins, she raised it to me like an award winning piece of art!

"I mā_ _ spider for you with own scissors."  

***

And now Noelle spent the night.  She's 4, she's potty trained, she's getting her wish answered, spend the night at GrammyPam's.  This is her first time ever.  It went well at first, but as the minutes ticked by she grew increasingly anxious.  So, I laid next to her, me on top the blanket, her tucked under the covers.  She knew that Alayna, her sister, was sleeping in the twin bed next to her, she knew the master bedroom was upstairs; the house is a story and a half.

"I feel like wike upstairs is up on the woof on top of us."

"Can I go wup dare?"

I told her, "No, you can go to sleep here, with Alayna."

She stated facts she didn't like, "The light's on but it's pretty much dark."

Here I should tell you we (me and grandkids) play a hide and seek game they call Mean Grandma because if they don't find me, I reach out to gently touch them.  Oh, the startled squeals!   It's been a favorite ever since.

After a reassuring phone call to her daddy she fell asleep.  But first she had to bare her heart to him,  "I want my fam-ly but I want to play mean grandma in the morning."  Then she rolled her face into the pillow and cried.  

Of course, the next morning I hid in a pile of covers and when they walked by, I reached out a sneaky hand to grab a sweet treat!

The Giants of Fall Break

                

Dear hubby is off work since he's a bus driver, so during his fall break we took some photos of giant figures or statues.  Here's just a few in neighboring cities and any information I could glean online concerning them.  Some are very interesting.  Enjoy!

   

No. 1

Anderson, Indiana

The Walking Man Project

at Allred's Collision Center where we spied this collection off to the right.  We had hit the road looking for 15 in. tires and possibly a new mattress.  

The human sculptures, part of the Walking Man Project making its way through Anderson, Indiana, is an art initiative by artists Rinker and Blazer.  The design of a person on-the-go was chosen as "a symbol of a progressive, forward-moving city".   27 have been built so far and all have sponsors.  

The giraffe and dinosaur are there, too, where you can find dummies inside buried cars.

No. 2 

Anderson, Indiana

Landess Farmer's Market

at Alex Pike Park beside Killbuck Creek 

is a roadside vegetable stand; we stopped on our way home.  So many apples from which to choose!  And all were delicious.  

We'd been to Arby's and were ready for NON-fast food.  That afternoon we had a nice meal with sis who stopped in to give us some of her garden-fresh tomatoes, and a large container of cherry tomatoes.  Dear hubby fixed us all spaghetti for supper and we topped it off with crispy sweet apples and hot tea.

No. 3

South Indianapolis

Superhero Window Man

at Window Man, Inc. we passed on the way to spend some time with my 88 year old cousin on the south side of Indianapolis.  Amazingly, she lives alone and is able to still care for herself and her home.  Her living room walls are intriguingly covered with ornate and delicate mirrors.  We went from there to Pendleton to check out Ian's roof leak; a long day.

Window Man wears blue full body tights emblazoned with a window, and sits with his black boots dangling off the roof of a window installation company.  Window Man, Inc. was founded in 1995 by Rance Klieber Sr., as a family business. Over 25 years ago, the family started providing window replacement services.

No. 4

Fortville, In

The Pink Elephant

at Elite Beverage was difficult to get to because of all the road construction, barricades and detour signs!  Finally, we parked at a No Outlet, walked past DQ which looks like the construction is putting it out of business, and around some cars to finally get to this pink giant protecting his eyes while drinking a martini.  

We'd been to Clint & Jessica's to let out their 12 chickens while they were camping, then we went to Kent Machine to see Rusty.

This elephant has a wardrobe of four hats – one each for Thanksgiving, Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day and the Fourth of July.  In 1973, Ray Cox said the Pink Elephant was stolen as a senior prank by a Mt. Vernon High School senior. 

“It was found at I-69 and State Road 13, because where can you hide a pink elephant? You can’t hide it. What are you going to do with it after you steal it?” Cox said.

No. 5

Orestes, Indiana 

Sun Rising 

at World's Largest Ball of Paint Roadside Attraction is where you can buy one of these yard decorations  At the home of the world's largest ball of paint, the creator makes holiday wooden signs for sale, too. For the past several years he's made smiling suns.

The local artist, Michael Carmichael, started making them during the pandemic to try to spread some joy. They’re purely a brighten your day lawn art.  One online comment was "The guy is selling them from his yard. I know it's just kitschy lawn art."

They are also sold at Sweet Water Pump Flea Market in Alexandria, Indiana.

Included could've been some other giant figurines - -humongous skeletons, zombies and dragons, too!  People love to use their yards to sport gigantic fun!  And we sure enjoyed catching sight of them on our fall break's daily run.

Elevator Humor

It was a blog by Andrew Saladino that caught my eye while scrounging around the internet looking for jokes.  One needs levity after listing the day's chores.

                            The blog was titled  Hilarious To Do List.

                      #4 read “Go into a crowded elevator and say, 

                      “I bet you’re all wondering why I gathered you 

                      here,” with a straight face.”

So funny.  And then I remembered the time we spent in Black Bear Inn in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, on the third floor, when I was trying out some humor.  Darling Hubby was spending hours in bed feeling sick with headaches, so frequently I was on my own.  

There were two elevators, one was “out of order”.  It wasn’t an overly busy hotel but the inoperable elevator caused just a bit of congestion.  

One time, alone on the inside of the elevator, the doors shuffled open wide, I looked at the little group of men and women soberly waiting there, then watched their faces crack into smiles and chuckles.  In a paradox I faked reaching for the red shut door button and raised my volume to announce, “Sorry, this elevator is full."

Another time hubby and son were with me.  The doors opened.  There stood workers; big tall muscular construction male workers.  They carried tools, wore grubby clothes, and their faces said they were there to do a job.   One man held a battery operated drill, another wore a tool belt, and the closest one to me had a hammer tucked in his armpit.

When the doors slid apart, I held up my hands in front of me, palms out, and let loose with, “It’s all right!  We’re getting off.  Honestly, you don’t need that hammer!”

Forget elevator music, let's have some elevator humor, tell a joke, get a laugh, lighten a dreary mood, after all, that's why I gathered you here, LOL.  BTW,  "I hope you're up lifting, because I'm coming down with something."

SUNDAYS VIGNETTES

It was a beautiful day!  All bright and warm and sunshiny.

That was a trope.

Let's try that again.

The day was bright and warm and sunshiny, a perfect Sunday!

Eh, nah.  That was a borderline trope. 

Let's try that again, again.

Sunday couldn't have been better!  Warm breezes, sunshine -- great weather!  

Great grandkids everywhere, such go-getters!

In the house the women were loosely gathered in a corner of the room, some on the couch. some on chairs.  The men were lazily lounging on the other side of the room with one exception, Calvin.  He'd drifted to the adjoining room and looked to be horizontalized -- sleeping.  

Jacob, the 3 y.o., came through, walking between all of us, carrying a shiny big red tractor. Spencer, stirring things up as he likes to do, heartily chuckled, said, "That goes in the pond."

Though he was headed outside, Jacob knew better, he said, "Does not."

Calvin, surprise, surprise, pops up and says, "Unless you wanna watch it swim!"

"Calvin, don't tell him to do that!" I cautioned.

Jacob knew better, "Unt-uh, it won't swim."

Because he was still trying to stir things up with Jacob, Calvin added, "How do you know?"

All guys were standing around the pick-up truck that hubby was trouble shooting.  The grandkids had drug every toy out of the garage and into the graveled driveway.  The drive is a long one from house to mailbox at the county road.   

The toys ranged from little red wagon to riding toy cars like police-mobile and yellow digger with construction hat, both Cozy Coups, baseball bats, golf clubs, croquet mallets, myriad balls - golf, basketball, croquet, and rubber bouncy ones.  The youngest kids carried their sippy cups.

One of the dads had brought over their kids bicycles.  Good!  Bold Jayden got mine out of the shed and explained, "So you can race me!"

Is he kidding?!  He just learned to ride two Sunday's ago. A race!?  So, I raced him, leisurely, LOL, in consideration for his blooming dexterity. On the way back, I pedaled past him and then past Alayna, who was leaning out of the bed of that pick-up truck.  She yelled to me with a giggle in her voice.

"Grandma's don't ride bikes!"

"Oh, yes, they do.  It's fun!"  especially when it's an O.C. Chopper with a comfy seat, chuckle.

Back in the house, we women looked up startled.   Very seriously, Rusty raised his voice to address us all, his mother, his wife, his family friend, and his two sister-in-laws.  He was waving up and over his head a white handled broom.

"Who left their vehicle behind mine?  I can't back up!"

OH, HO!

Guess who took off ducking and running!  And carrying a broom!

LET'S HEAR ABOUT MOOSE!

There's many roads we must take before we get to Alayna's punchline.  First, we know that her daddy labels, uses monikers.  If you read the last blog, you know Rusty named their first harvest spider of the season , Geirstein the Big.   He named his dog Spike.  He called his first daughter "the bull".  And, now that his wife is pregnant with another child, and though not born, it's rowdy and giving mom fits as in aches and pains, so, Rusty calls it moose, LOL!

And, keep in mind that I thought all kinds of things when Alayna made this comment and made me laugh..  A person does.  When you hear the word Halloween it conjures up...what?  Jack-o-lanterns?  Trick or Treat?  costumes?  parties?

When you hear the word Christmas you begin thinking of brightly lit evergreen trees, wrapped gifts, holiday foods, jolly red Santa, glittery greeting cards, right?

And after Christmas?  The clean-up, and New Year's Eve; that's what most people think about.  In our family, we also think of Rusty's wife's birthday.  It falls right in there amongst all that other busy-ness.

Remember also, children are naive.  They're innocent.  Their comments do not include all that adult stuff we've been subjected to and attached to words.  Children's lives are very little, basic, filled with parental info and guidelines we've given them.

Now, I can tell you.  5 year old Alayna came up to me during a noisy, very noisy gathering.  After having celebrated a birthday with six grandkids running around, parents laughing and telling stories, grandparents and uncles  adding laugh lines to the stories, she put her little soft hand in mine and said, "GrammyPam?"

"Yes, Alayna..."

She said,"After Christmas..." and I thought of New Years, and her mother's birthday.

"moose" my mind wandered thinking of cold Alaska and humongous antlered creatures.

 Alayna said, "After Christmas, Moose comes out of mommy!"

Oh my lands, I doubled over laughing!  She was so serious!  I was so loosing it!

Art Linkletter said it best, "Kids say the darnedest things!"

And Alayna, unknowingly, said the darnedest of all, "After Christmas, Moose comes out of mommy!"

ROFLMHO

HARVEST SPIDER - GEIRSTEIN THE BIG

I found it!  

I found what this family has dubbed The First Harvest Spider of the Season!  

Last year he hung between heaven and earth in the back yard, but upon closer inspection with my camera, I found anchor threads of his web to the clothes line.  Taking pictures was almost useless. 

But this year I'd been reading and I knew what to do.  

How did I find him?

From my kitchen window I could see little round circles in the dewy grass that looked like pulled apart thin sheets of Kleenex.

Going outside, getting closer, I could see they were spider webs.  Then I found the mother of them all!  Geirstein the Big!  

LOL, at least that's what Rusty, my oldest son, calls his.  He has a home and a family of his own and last year they had a Black and Yellow Garden Spider just take over their front door!  He loved carrying on the tradition of being first to spy the first.

The Black & Yellow Garden Spider of Indiana can also be found along the eaves of houses and outbuildings or in any tall vegetation.  We easily find them under our eaves, that's where we found our very first about 30 years ago when the kids were young.  Supposedly, these spiders live 1 to 3 years.

It's also one of the larger species that can grow to 1.5 inches, not counting the legs.  According to gardener facts, it keeps a clean orderly web, is active during the day, and constructs stabilimenta, a zig-zag web decoration.

Why do we see them in the Fall?  They build their webs in a safe place to survive the winter after having spent the summer getting bigger eating insects, and becoming mature adults.

So what did I learn?  Make a puff ball.  Fill a square of cheesecloth with some flour, then gently pat it to create a little poofing of powder onto the web.  It will then show up in your camera, just like the one above.  

Again, I couldn't find thread web anchors.  It looked like it was hanging in mid-air.  After the puff ball, I could see it was tied to the above tree, another foot over my head!

Sharing the pics with Rusty on group texting, it was evident it's still a family tradition.  Clint had a marbled one in his barn window.  Spencer has a huge nasty one that likes to eat carpenter bees.  Still hopeful, Rusty reported, "We have a smaller one hanging off the SUV mirror.  Geirstein the Big has yet to show."

MORE TO THE STORY of Pole, Forks, Man, at Portland Tractor Show

In my last blog, Pole, Forks, Man, At Portland Tractor Show,  I embarrassed myself 3 times in 7 minutes.  It's a story that'll be, and has been, retold and built upon, many times; many, many times.

Here's just a couple examples.

I'll set the scene.  

Warm sunny day.  The three of us in a golf cart were on our own.  Darling hubby of mine, and darling wife of Clint's remained at home because of school.  John being a bus driver.  Jessica sticking around for first grade daughter.  

So, Clint was in the back, I was riding shotgun, and, of course, Jeani was driving. 

The Tri-State Gas Engine and Tractor show brought upwards of 700 campers, over 4,000 exhibits, and 54 acres of swap meet merchandise.  The town accommodates it all -- the rental of golf carts, the quilt show, the library book sale, and city wide yard sales.

We were going city wide to all the yards sales we could, until something stopped us, like a phone call from a spouse saying, "I'm coming, meet me."

The first sale netted Jeani an Aggravation game board, just what she was wanting, for 50 cents.

The next 2 sales, nothing.

The third sale I found princess dresses with gold face masks...$3 for all.

The fourth one, we were crossing the intersection when Clint piped up, referring to the fence post I'd hit the day before knocking off an electrical box.

"Remember, Jeani, every 7 feet there's a pole!"

Jeani, the traitor, laughs, "Which one has her name on it....?"

Clint counts off as we pass each one, "One....two.....three......"

Grrr, I have to take the ribbing with charity, don't I?  That is, until the last comment reached my ears as she reached the mailbox behind which rested a large black wire dog crate for sale.  

Clint said, "I don't think she'll fit, Jeani."

Oh, boy, we're getting clever now -- yah, yah -- contain "the menace to society"!

The show's over. 

The camper's hitched up.  We're on our way home.  Part way we stop for refreshments and a gasoline fill-up.  As we exit the building thinking my out-of-state companion might like a different ride (hubby drives a diesel) or she might like to visit with John for a different change of pace, I asked, "Would you like to ride with John for a while?"

Jeani asked, "Are you tired of me?"

"No," I assured her, "I’m not tired of you!  You could move up here and live, and it’d be fine with me."

Jeani's quick witted.  She didn't miss a beat.  She put up her hands and started ticking off on her fingers, "Well, let me see, you tried to take me out with a pole, and the forks of a tractor, and….."

She continued, "And you about hit that man with the golf cart."

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I said.  "Get in.  You're driving!"

POLE, FORKS, MAN AT PORTLAND TRACTOR SHOW

 

Sylph's stirred the air and for 7 minutes I was devoid of sensibilities.  Yes, blame the Sylphs!

Better yet, tell the truth!  It was the dolls, I tell ya, it was the dolls!

Like sirens, they beguiled me with their set smiles, crowns of curls, and fancy luxurious gowns.  Their visage called, I turned my head to look them full in the face.  Were they for sale, what was their price, would a granddaughter like one for Christmas?  

BOOM!

Disaster!

What the heck was that????  Well, ut-hum, it was me.  I'd struck a pole!  An electrical pole!  Driving the golf cart, ignoring Jeani who was making a Marco Polo, and looking back at the dolls, I'd hit a pole.  I didn't just hit it, though, I scraped alongside so hard that it took the mounted electrical box off! 

Red faced.  Hanging head.  I braked to a "Stop!"  Adding to my shame, 4 men in another golf cart passed by, grinning!

One said, "Don't worry 'bout it.  You just took the box off.  It can be reattached."  

Oh, Lord, people saw!!!!

That was one.

Here I must digress and tell you an old joke.  It's about newlyweds driving a buggy who's horse stepped in the ditch.  Groom says, "That's one."  They drive on, horse stumbles, groom says, "That's two." They continue, horse stops, groom says, "That's three." and shoots him dead.  Back in the buggy the upset new wife says, "Why'd you shoot our horse, now what're we gonna do?"  Groom says, "That's one."

Upset.  Embarrassed.  I drove on.  

We were looking for the other golf cart, the one my son was driving, with my brother and his son-in-law. Scanning through the hordes of swappers, looking for that one telltale sign that said "It's them!" I didn't see.  

It was only 7 minutes devoid of sensibilities.

Jeani screamed, "Forks!"

What?

She nervously giggled, insisted, "Forks!  See the forks!  Don't run into them!"

I didn't see packages of plasticware, I didn't see a hay pitchfork, I didn't see a fork in the road!

"Stop!"

I stopped.  I tell you now the top of the golf cart windshield was folded down.  That meant there were 2 panes of glass - and they were dirty.  They were dirty from the mud and the dust of driving up and down 44 acres of men's world of tools, engines, and tractors.  We were on aisle F.

And Jeani was loudly insisting I stop to avoid the forks.  Never seeing the forks, I stopped.

Then vision zoomed in.  It clarified.  I saw two 4 foot long tines lo-o-ow to the ground poking towards my front tires.  Ut-oh.

I looked up.  I looked 10 feet up!

The driver was patiently sitting high in his seat, arms crossed, waiting for acknowledgement!  His eyes were steady on me.  

I kid you not, this thing was imposing!  It was big.  'Bout 20 feet long.  It was tall.  'Bout 10 feet tall.  It was bulky and gray and red.   It was a Manitou telescoping stackhandler.  And it was gonna fork me!

Sheesh!  Another disaster!  Jeani averted!

That was two.

 I drove around the forks.

We were still keeping an eye out for the other golf cart full of family.  I'm nervous.  I'm totally embarrassed.  I'm wishing someone else was driving, my mind's disturbed.

For the third time Jeani hollers at me.  

She's a good shotgun rider, you know, like men of the wagon train, one holds the horses' reins, the other front seat cowboy sits with a rifle in his lap watching out for predators and "them there injuns" -- riding shotgun.

She hollers, "Man!  Don't hit that man!"

What man?  

What man is she talkin'' 'bout?  

It wasn't that six foot tall man was it?  The Caucasian, wearing white pants that I'd just went around?  I wasn't gonna hit him!

That was three.

We came upon the family, they had TWO golf carts, I wasn't expecting that.  We stopped.  We chatted. Jeani told all.  I'm thinking, "These stories will never die." Three carts abreast, we clogged aisle E.  

That's it.  I'm done.  It had only taken 7 minutes of Sylph's stirring the air of senselessness for me to give up the reins.  

Jeani's driving!

 

A SMALL OUTHOUSE, A SHORT SURPRISE, A BIG TRACTOR SHOW

We parked the golf cart to explore the Amish vendors wares of 6 people bob sled, sleighs, snow sleds, wooden drawers, wood lathe, wash tubs, and a yard decoration that looked like an outhouse.

The Amish man said it's used to cover well caps and sewer lids; yard decoration.

I always open trinket box lids, and treasure-like chests.  Jeani opens outhouses.  I wonder if she'll double think it next time.

  Thinking it was empty, she pulled the little black handle of the red wood and aluminum roof structure, opened the door, let out a squeal, "Ahhhhhhhhhh", snapped it shut, and simultaneously jumped back behind me!

Good lands!  What on earth!  What's in there?  What'd she see?

She was bent at the waist, hands up, still so excited she was unable to talk.  I thought maybe it was an wild animal or maybe even a snake!  

Some male passerby begged her to re-enact it so he could get a video!  

I couldn't stand it.  Tentatively, I reached for the black handle.  Oh my goodness, what will I see?

Little black legs were straight out at the side.

Little somber black eyes looked back UP at me.

Blonde hair in a bowl cut topped the eyes.

A very small young Amish boy was silently sitting inside!!!!!

"Jeani, you nut, you slammed the door on the little guy!'

She said, "No kidding, I thought it was empty, it was not!!!"

We were ROFLOHO!

Of note, the next time we drove by, dad had upped the price, LOL

"WHY, I NEVER!" IN PORTLAND

Jeani had never.  Never had she been in a Menards, eaten a White Castle, driven a Mach I, drank Oliver wine, tasted Wicks Cream Pie, entered a Pizza King, or bit into an elephant ear.  It was a week of firsts.

Cinnamon, sugar, fried bread -- an elephant ear,  "This is dang good!"

White Castle, "I have to eat your cracker to get rid of the taste."

Wicks Cream Pie, "That was good."

Oliver wine, "Let's stop at that store and buy a couple more."  ROFL

Then she stepped out of son's Mustang, "Wow!  It's a legal race car, but it's not a race car!"  Then her phone rang (her son has a safety tracking device on it), she ignored it twice to take her turn on the board game.  "Mom.  What're ya doin'?"  "Playing games."  "Mom, you were going 109 miles an hour!" "Oh, that,"  giggle and laugh, "I was driving Calvin's Mach 1."  

(Speeding down a country road avoiding a cornfield donut, she was!)

There are very few Pizza King's around.  

For son Clint's birthday wish and 

Jeani another first, pizza we ate.  

No room for birthday pie until later, after 

a good game of  Ticket To Ride, when we dived into our favorite frozen desserts.

"Pass the Pigs!"   "Toss 'em!  Like dice."  Jeani dropped 2 cute little pink pigs onto the table.  She'd opened her game box chock-full of dice, cards, boards, markers, etc.  Players get the most points if one lands on its snout, "Oink, snorkel!"

Who's awake?  In the camper's top bunk I could see the light from Spencer's cellphone screen.  He's awake.  Jeani, I couldn't tell.  It was A/C cold in cramped quarters.  My head was pillowcase wrapped.  I'd misplaced my glasses.  I bent down low, eyeball to eyeball, to see if she was awake.  There was a disturbance in her force.  Covered to the chin in blankets, she slowly opened her eyes, rolled them to me,  rared back and SCREAMED!  I was shocked! 

Rakeb Olson (name changed to protect ... the innocent?  Nah, she's not innocent, she's a character, LOL), was darling hubby and sons co-worker.  Standing next to her husband, catching up with the guys on their lives current news, she said her hubby's back just went out a day or so before the Portland tractor show.  I wasn't sure what this next was all about, but waiting in our golf cart I busted a gut when I heard her say,  

"He be insured and fed."

“Why, I never!”  That’s a first on me!

THE GIANT SPIDER IN PORTLAND

  

Remember the "something" we needed?  We needed a spider, or a skeleton, either one.  We needed it for the golf cart we were driving all through the 4-H Jay County fairgrounds, the Tri-State Tractor Show, and the city wide yard sales.  

Vendors were selling fall floral decos, Halloween booing characters on metal legs, orange painted pumpkin propane tanks, and dancing skeletons on sticks for kids.  

"Let's get a black spider!"

We had to go to Dollar General for ant spray and ... ta-da ... there was a spider!

When I came around the aisle end cap and surprised them with it, our ride along, Clint, chuckled.  Jeani squealed. Then the brain caught up with her fight-or-flight instinct, "Really!"  

Driving around a policeman conferring with a show's director, who was absentmindedly watching me drive by, popped off with "Does your spider bite?"  ROFL

Motoring around another guy relaxing in his own golf cart, who looked like he was just waiting on his wife to finish shopping, we heard his reaction.  He'd caught a glimpse of a furry leg passing his face, and involuntarily let out a visceral sound and uttered, "Gees!"

   See pic above.

Jacob was okay with the spider, as long as the windshield was between them.  When Miss Lilly, his sister, picked it up, he was gone!  Run, squeal, scream, "No. No! No-o-o-o!"

But the best of all was my friend Jeani.  She's always good for a kind comment and a laugh.  We were having fun with the red-eyed fuzzy web maker, and becoming complacent about its presence.  A man coming towards us in his own golf cart, commented, "Hey, you got a spider on your wind shield!"

Jeani began quickly searching for it, aiming to dislodge and annihilate, "Where?  Where?"  Then she laughed,

"SERIOUSLY, I WAS LOOKING FOR A SPIDER!"

LOL, weren't we all!

DRIVING: PORTLAND, CART, AND UP THE WALL

That's it!  Packed, fueled, loaded, and coffee in the zarf, Jeani and I blasted off on a dangerous mission.  It's gotta be, right? dangerous? two well-matured women on their own? and of all things, going to a tractor show?

My Okie friend and I are headed to Portland, Indiana, to the Tri-State Gas Engine and Tractor Ass'n.  What could be dangerous in that?  Ut-hum, we had wisdom, knowledge, can do attitude, wheels, and money!

In Portland's 4-H fair grounds, the camper's already parked and fees paid.  We just have to get our name tags, our tickets to ride - through the gates and through the town.

Last year Spencer went to the red barn's window and got my name tag for me.  It's written by Spencer and pinned on my note-board, "Pamela BayZ" (purposely misspelled last name) with city & state. and in parenthesis (If lost call 317-379-XXXX).  The little turkey put my own phone number on there!

Fun and frivolity, grins and giggles, ha, ha, ha, even strangers laughed, 'cause I pinned this year's tag on my blouse:  "Geanni's Friend" "If lost return to find her"

We're bound for fun days!

She's driving!

*****

Second things second.  My back and feet complained.  Jeani's hips said, "I need better shoes"

We had walked.  We had went 6 blocks, 'nuff that!  We walked back.  

Got the truck, got the money, went to Carts & Parts, paid for an additional 1/2 day rental of our golf cart!

Ah.  Nice.  Nice ride.

But, we need something.  Hum, a rear view mirror?  Yes.  But something else, hum, we need a spider!  A GIANT spider! 

"In your hand, or in the bag with the can?" Dollar General's cashier laughed about the Raid and the black fuzzy spider  "The two just won't go together, it'll drive him up the wall!"

 

 

A New ERA, Jacob's Here!

In my pew at church I have a stash of children's books and some coloring books with crayons to entertain any grandkid that might venture back to my seat.  Also, in a box covered in ruby flowers are things like thumb push puppet giraffe, flat wooden puzzles, and a small blue container of miniature doll house furniture with some to-scale zoo animals, a pocket watch, and a pinch of flowers.

I've had these at home for 30 years.  Didn't bring them to church until Miss Lilly was born.  So they've been played with for 7 years by many a child.  Then along comes Jacob.  A boy.  

Everyone knows boys and girls think different.  Boys and girls don't have the same interests.  And, boys and girls don't actively play in the same manner.

Little girls will set up the furniture in a house-like fashion and gently set the animals and flowers atop so they don't fall or rock.  Then they sit back and admire their display, "GrammyPam, look!"  I give a smile and a thumbs up.  Then say, "Shhhh, we're in church, whisper, please."

One such miniature piece is an end table complete with a little drawer and a little knob, and two shelves underneath.  Invariably grandkids want the pocket watch, or a penny, to fit in the drawer.  Fit, they don't.  They almost do, but they don't.  So, the penny or watch get parked on the bottom shelf.  

Not Jacob!  The watch gets squished in!  The sides of the drawer bulge!  And the drawer gets stuck!  "Fix GrammyPam, fix."  Sometime or another, the drawer pull disappeared.....

So, it's a new Sunday, Jacob sits with me, and out comes the doll furniture.  He says, "I'm hungry."  So I give him a little red box of raisins.  Nutritious.  Appropriate serving size.  Easy clean-up.  I'm at ease, he's playing quietly.  I sing a song.  Someone speaks.  And then, there's little unhappy noises making their way to my ears.  I look down and Jacob has squished some raisins into this tiny, tiny drawer, and shoved it shut!  How do I know there are raisins in there?  I see one little raisin is herniated, and sealed the drawer!  Oh, my lands!  And I can't get it open.

I send him and raisin-fed end table back to Spencer who I figure has a pocket knife.  He doesn't.  He laughs the whole time he's demonstrating how he had to get out two credit cards to wiggle them between the edges and pry that little drawer loose.  He asks, "Did you know the pull is missing, Mom?"  

******

You think that's the end of it?  Well, let me give you some back story.  Jacob wears a backpack to church, child-size.  He's very adept at taking it off and putting it on.  And weight doesn't matter.

One Sunday he began unloading his backpack beside me onto the pew's upholstered blue seat.  Out came monster trucks.  Out come another.  He lined up some more.  A blue one.  A black one.  A red one.  A white one.  Another, and another, and another.  There were 30 monster trucks!!!!!!

A few Sunday's after that, his backpack was extremely heavy, let me emphasize extremely heavy.  Maybe 10 pounds, or more!  He unloaded it, again onto the blue covered bench seat next to me.  This time it was trains.  Wooden trains.  Train after train.  Some hooked up, some were Brio, some connected by magnetism, some were his Dad's old ones, all were Matchbox sized.  Some were two pieces, some had the capacity to hold stuff, some were yellow with a crane.  All were important.  I think he brought every one he owned from home!  At least 30 maybe 40.  Thankfully, he never uttered a "Whoo-hooooooooo" or a "chug-a-chugga."

So, it's a new Sunday.  Checking out the interactive and peek-a-boo books was over.  Eating raisins was done.  Putting the puzzles together was a success, even though he'd mixed all six sets together beforehand.  And the drawer was fixed.  What next?  The backpack!

Oh, no.  I didn't know what to expect.  I knew it was going to be interesting.  I knew I had to be on the alert for toys falling to the floor and subsequent noises.  He laboriously unzipped it.  He pulled the flap back with his left hand.  His right hand went in.  He reared his little torso slightly back, (I'm sure to compensate for girth and weight) and brought it out and up over his head -- a large green John Deere tractor, with big black bar tread tires, as big as his head, JUST ONE! 

Shew!

Now, you know what monster trucks do, don't you?  Come on, you don't have to guess -- they smash and conquer!  

I watched as his eyes spied the little red raisin box, and I knew what was coming next! 

Twisted Humor

WELCOME HOME

We were driving along, heading out of a shopping area, into a more residential area, and out through the countryside towards home.  I saw a sign.  It was stuck low in the ground on it's two little wire legs.

Black letters on long rectangular white plastic said, "Welcome home!"

It had a little stenciled rosette or ribbon beside the W.  I thought, okay, either a soldier has come home or a man's released from the hospital or a wife just had a baby.  What a nice surprise for whomever.

Then a few yards later, a driveway later, there's another sign.

Black letters on long rectangular white plastic, low to the ground, said, "Stop in here."

Now, that's interesting.  For some reason, this person needed an arrow and confirmation that this is where they were supposed to be headed.

Then...then...the last sign, another with black letters on long rectangular white plastic, low to the ground, was a copy-cat of the other two.  Beyond it stood a nice rambling stately brick red building with a gorgeous professionally kept grassy lawn.  This sign was as simple as the other two.

"Are you kidding me?" I said to darling hubby, as I laughed my head off!

"Someone's humor is a little bent!  What a twist!"

This last sign read, "PET CEMETERY!!!"

I Found Myself

“I found myself!”

I sound like a flower child, don’t I, or one of those shaggy hippies of the 60’s where they’re laying about, looking skyward, aimless, claiming they’re trying to find themselves?

You think I’m a boomer, a baby boomer?

Nah, I’m at the tail end of that boom.  After that big population explosion I was just a spit-pop at the end, a little fizzle, spizzzzzt.

Being at the tail end of what newspeople call the boomers is like a toddler looking up at a 1960’s dad with a halo around his head.  It wasn’t a gold angelic ring!  LOL.  It was ethereal…hazy…“like lost in the clouds, man.”

I’m from a little burg in the road, it rests along the east side of a river.

It’s idyllic.

Lazy river.

Full of fish and frogs.

Ducks diving for food with happy quacks.

Men with tied-back hair barbecuing their catches on the far shore next to sunbathing Barbie.

Kayaks and canoes paddling by.

Weeping willows dipping their branches in the ripples.

Red roses gloriously blooming on the banks.

This burg is home.  It’s also home to a grocer, a lumberjack, a fireman, and Ted.

Ted, too, has been trying to find himself … for the past 10 years!

Ted meanders through the streets feeding half his food to the neighbor’s dog, poking into every one’s mailboxes making sure the letters are theirs, I think, checking packages left by UPS and running off with his favorites.

Yah, he’s still trying to find himself.  When he was seen jumping in and out of his reflection in a 3 paned picture window, like a dog that barks at his own reflection, he said he was just trying to find himself.

You know how you do that, don’t you, find yourself?  Google, yep, Google.  Put your name in that little address bar…and up you’ll pop.  Pop, pop, pop,109 times pop, pop, pop, little pictures all over the screen pop, pop, pop.  There’s your name attached to each one, pop, pop, pop, right there in living color  - -  goofy grins, bug eyes, withered prune face, giraffe tongued, and llama lips for a hat! 

Why, “I found myself” on the Jersey shore,

in Washington’s Space Needle,

in the droop of Texas,

on the Keys to Cuba,

lost in the Appalachians,

and then, right there in the middle of ‘em all … on the edge.  

One woman in Colorado, with the Grand Canyon in the photo's background and in the foreground a donkey, was on the edge!  

There’s another way to find oneself.  Books.   “Finding Yourself” by Surely Holme, and  “How to Find Yourself” by Ima Drift, or “Finding Yourself for Dummies” written by B. A. Wiseman.

Don’t tell your brother you’re finding yourself, he’ll say “Look in the funny papers.”

Don’t tell your sister either, she’ll say, “Look in a mirror.”

And then there’s dad, “You’re right here, why would you wanna go find yourself?”