Male Quips, He Saids

John's Father

J.C.as his friends called him, or John Colly as his relatives knew him, or Grandpa as our kids called him said, “I wish I was rich enough I’d fill the bath tub full of milk. I’d swim in it and then drink what I want.” Rusty Rusty reminded me of a time when we had ducks and used to collect the eggs for cake baking and breakfast meals, but a varmint was getting them. His dad, John Houston, trapped it, then took the trap to the back yard as he carried a double barreled shotgun. He opened the cage, the varmint ran, John shot once, then shot twice.  John’s instant reply was, “He had every opportunity after each shot" after Rusty exclaimed, "Dang, Dad. You didn’t give him a chance.” Spencer 　 “What was that? That wasn’t Buffy I saw. It wasn’t a small deer either, what was it?” I was standing near the sliding glass. “Oh, look at that big dog, that’s not ours or Abby, the neighbor’s, or the pitbull next door.”   “Oh,” said Ian calmly, “that’s Nadar.”  Nadar is the pet dog of the neighbors across the street.  “Dad hates Nadar.”    Spencer corrects him tongue in cheek, “You mean majorly dislikes him with a fiery passion.”

Ian

All boys but one showed up today for various reasons.

They fixed the skid steer, it works again, and Clint filled the trench.

Ian was so sweet he made us all a snack of ... get this ... cinnamon sugar toast.  And it hit the spot.

He said, "It doesn't taste right unless you use mother's Imperial margarine."

Jayden

I didn't know it, but now that Rusty has 5 kids and some are older, they have reported to me that their dad, Rusty, has nicknames for foods.  Here's the short list.

Cheeseburgers is cheese-boogers

Sloppy joes are poop sandwiches

Cereal is perial

Parmesan cheese is stinky feet cheese

Laughingly, I exclaimed, "Rusty!  Those are awful!  What are you teaching these kids?"

And Jayden says, "GrammyPam, you should whip him.  29 whippings!"

BUTTERFLIES, FOOT, CHILI, CHICKENS, GLOVES - KIDS SAY

"Kids Say the Darnedest Things" was such a good show in the 60's, that I purchased the book.   Now, I've got my own grandkids that say the darnedest things.  They crack me up!  

Noelle and I are coloring in a Dora coloring book when she begins explaining.  She's coming into her own in maturity, being vocal, putting together sentences, and having original thoughts.  I was coloring a large butterfly and she was coloring a little one, if you can call it coloring with scrawls and long strokes out of the lines.  She has sweet thoughts, and she has a lisp.

"The baby butterfwy is orange and this big one butterfwy is her mommy."

Ainsley

The kids and Calvin were playing a watered-down game of baseball.  Jayden was at bat.  Alayna, Noelle, and little 3 y.o. Ainsley were outfielders, sort of.  Well, Ainsley stepped on something and hurt her foot.  Calvin carried her to the tailgate of the pick-up near her dad Rusty.  He began checking her out.  But as kids are wont to do, "No, don't!  It hurts! No!"  Finally, he talked her into letting him put on a bandaid.

"A chicken bandaid?" she cried.

"Yes, I have a chicken bandaid, right here in my wallet."  Ah, Dad's come prepared.

After a bit of ice and a bandaid she finally went off to play.  So, this morning I did a video call to see how she was doing.

"How's your foot?  Does it hurt?  Is it fine?" her mom asked her.

She happily shoved her shoe into the camera lens.  I got to see the white sole of her shoe not her foot, LOL, and then she stuck the other perfectly white sole up into the lens.

"Yea, I'm 'ooing fine.  Wook at my ah-er one."  

Noelle 

Noelle the next week, was talking inside the house while I was outside on the deck.  The kids had the craft bucket out, both boxes of crayons, some rolled onto the floor, 3 packages of magic makers, washable ones, 3 pair of child Fisker scissors, and a couple of glue sticks.  She was done with her Toothless, Light Fury, and Night Lights picture from How To Train Your Dragon.  But it had to be immortalized.

"I gwued wall.  So I can stwick it!"

Yep, it's still there.  I'm scared.  I'm scared the paint will come off stuck to backside of the picture, oh boy!

Alayna

Alayna had a tablespoon of my homemade chili in her bowl, taste testing to see if she liked it.

She did.  She paid compliments.

"It good.  It not spicy."

She's only 4 but very adult-like.  With another spoonful coming to her lips she nodded her head in the positive.

"Jay should definitely try this.  Can I have a whole bowl of it?"

Ah, sweetness to my ears!  We have a winner!

Jacob

I was watching the chickens, one purched atop, some slipped out of the fence; Clint's family has lots of chickens.  Jacob was walking at my side going towards the fancy coop Clint had made.  

I said, "Jacob, they're everywhere!" 

With little boy voice, and using his little boy hands making imaginary pictures in the air, he talked.  At one point he demonstrated by smacking himself in the face .

 "Ya, and we eated the rooster!  He just hit me in the face.  So dad said we eated him."

Jayden

"Come on, you two, follow me," I said to Jayden and Alayna while carrying 3 pair of Jersey gloves.

You can't give 'em too much information about what you're doing or they will balk, argue, try to weasel out of it. 

I gave them each a pair of soft black gloves and put a pair on myself as we traisped across the newly mown green barn yard to the truck loaded with tree branches.  The branches needed thrown off onto a burn pile.

 So, they followed me, but Jayden is older.  Jayden is wiser.  He piped up.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Jacob Rolls Tire - Teaser!

 

First grandchild's born, what to call me?  I wanted to be a grandma yet I wanted to be known as this particular grandma.  The vote was for GrammyPam.  

Several grandkids later we get a Jacob. 

Jacob, bless his heart, as soon as he could talk, has always said my name his way.

First it was iPad.  I laughed my head off.

Then it was Oil-Pan.  I thought he'd been helping his dad on the cars a lot; oil pan, LOL.

Then he tried his best to get it right, but still got it wrong,  blending the two -- GrammyPan.  I chuckled.

Finally, coming up on 4 years old, he was able to say GrammyPam.

In the intervening months, uncles,  aunts, and grandpa John have laughed at his original take on my moniker.

He's clever, he's smart, he took note, and occasionally would throw out there one of those names.  I decided to play his game and would call to him, "Goodbye, JacobBird" or "Hello there JacobWing", or "JacobDozer, is that you?" or any silly thing that came to mind.

On to today, Sunday, he was in the barn.  His dad was putting tires on the old Chieftain Silver Streak 8 Pontiac.  The tires weren't very heavy, totally black and only 15 inches.  

I went to the back of his Dad's truck and rolled one of the tires down to the ground.  Jacob said, "I can do-it."  And he did.  Surprisingly, he rolled it over to his dad without incident.  

One tire left to go. 

I went to the back of the truck and rolled the last one down to the ground.  Jacob was right there.  He rolled it around the red trailer, it was also in the barn, with his little boy hands but lost control and it did a spinning roll to a stop on it's side.

He huffed, arms hanging down dejectedly.  So I went over and uprighted the tire for him so he could roll it on.

 He was capable, and he was also appreciative.

"Thank you, GrammyPam!"

Then the little teaser just had to do it.  With a grin he looked steadily at me and said, 

"Oil Pan !"

When I growled and exclaimed in pretended resentment, he delightfully giggled and giggled.

Lilly Draws Cats - Dream On!

  Wouldn't you just love to freely draw with abandon, fully confident that your picture conveys everything you intend?  Lilly does.

It's awesome to watch.

And I did.

And I took notes and photographs.

And she just steadily kept adding lines and colors here and there.

  First she drew a cat pole.  I'd shown her how to make an oval with an edge for a table.  She then wanted me to draw one on her cat scratch pole, 

"You draw it," she said.

Then she drew the scratching cat.  And then a lazy cat....complete with tail wrapped around the pole!  What child would think to wrap a tail when she doesn't even have a pet cat of her own.

The top box, she said, was for the cat to sleep.  Note the fishes to the left and right, and the dark filled in circle to denote an interior.  What child would think to do that?

 Lilly erased my words Lazy Cat to replace them with a large mamma cat.  I realized the cat on the right was falling from the ledge, but was surprised when she said it was going for the goldfish in the bowl and using its lips, "me-um-um-um" (as she smacked her own lips) "to get the fishy snacks."

  And then we have the final free-hand unsupervised drawing in living color.  And doesn't each cat portray action?  And the mouse in the corner even looks curious.  

How does she do that?  

Top cat is dreaming of fishie snacks, and the cat below him is dreaming of a mouse!

I'm dreaming of being able to just sit and nonchalantly start drawing what's in my mind and having it convey feelings, be attractive, proportional, and colorful!

Dream on!

P.S.  It was a dry erase board and she promptly swiped it all away with her left hand, sigh.

TWO OLD LADIES AND SOME DOGS!

Carrying my cellphone, shutting the mailbox, I couldn't resist a little walk down the county road.

Old neighbor ladies were no where to be seen but I could hear hollering.

On the way back I heard, "PAM-M-M!"

So, I turned my head over my right shoulder and sure enough there was the older one, Eda, just a waving, flagging me down.  She was dressed nice!  Pastel blue paisley top with slacks, no robe did she wear.  She also had a more calm and pleasant look in her demeanor!

We approached each other on the black paved drive.

Hearing more hollering from the back yard, I asked her, "Who's she yelling at?"

"The dog.  Her son's dog. We have to keep him in the garage back there," she said in her smoker's voice.

She wasn't a dirty blonde anymore, and the frizz was gone.  She had what they call a Klute Cut, but this lady called it Jane Fonda Hair.  It was gray and feathered and shaggy, and she was just a'beaming.

"I took in a picture this big (she made a square with her fingers) of Jane Fonda and told them I wanted a haircut like hers."

Up came the other old lady, Wendy, in a teal top and billowing pants.  She had been to the office and looked nice herself!  She helped herself, too, to running her fingers through Eda's hair.  Reaching over, she fluffed and fingered the new do, ruffling it up.

"It looks good on her, doesn't it?"  They beamed at each other, then to me, and then beamed at each other again.

I'm always up for a good story and they're always ready to tell me one.  But today, no oral stories.  Just real-life action.

Eda proudly pulled back her garments to show me her healing skin; the bruises and open wound and stitches from the previous dog bites were gone.   Then she went in the house returning to us with STERLING, the rat terrier, on a leash!  Oh, boy!

Barking his fool head off at me, Sterling was at the end of his rope!

It was too much.  She turned around and took the dog barking back inside.  

Keep in mind they have 4 dogs in the house and one quarantined in the back garage.  All the while you visit, all dogs bark and claw at the window.  The women are used to it -- never hear, never see.  I do.  Dogs should behave.

Next thing I know, the door opens, the leash that was on STERLING is now on BULLDOG, Sterling is running full bore at me, and "Holy cow!" a Pomeranian scampers out!  In and out and between them all  she bounces and weaves and then comes straight at me, pell mell!  I put up my foot to actionate a "Halt!"  

STERLING backs up to accost Wendy instead. The Pom, Rosie, briefly pauses then commences barking, going around and around and around their car like a crazed fly!  Meanwhile both women are hollering at their chosen canine to scold, high volume frustration.  Bark-bark.  Yip, yip, yip.  Wo-of!  It's pandemonium!

Wendy starts repeating, loudly over the din of cacophony, "Car!  Car!  Car!"  She opens the back door of her car and two go in and one comes out.  The orange fluff ball Rosie, takes up running again in a frenzy around the car, yipping as she goes!

Sterling stays in.  The call of "Car" was the cat's meow to him!

Where'd that Bulldog go?

Too much for me.  Wishing them the best, I said my good-byes.

Wendy was carrying the pom back to her front door and squeaking a reprimand, "Bad doggie, you're supposed to come when I call you.  I'm mad at you!  You're a bad dog!"

What a trip!  

We all got a trip.

I chanced a backward glance.  In the backseat of their white car, sitting upright, ears pointing skyward, was a black shadow of a dog.  

STERLING!  They forgot Sterling.

STERLING wants a trip!

ALL OVER MY BODY - CRAZY OLD LADIES

Remember the crazy old ladies next door?
First, I gotta tell you they are the sweetest things.  They are so generous, and loving, and willing to help in any way they can.   They sent over a pot of noodles last Spring, they gave me a "Loving" Jesus bracelet when hubby died, and they always take time to visit.

So, this morning I stopped in to check on Eda.  Eda is the one who broke her hand and was scheduled for surgery.  I asked her how the surgery went.  This is the punch line, and it really should be at the end of this, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet.  I asked, "How'd your surgery go?"

"Ahh, I didn't go in for the surgery," a teensy bit of excitement to her voice here, "but I did go get stitches... ALL OVER MY BODY!"

Oh. My.  Lands!

Not only did she have a black and blue bruise under her left eye, but she had stitches on her right forearm, her left hand, her navel, her backside and the top of her left shoulder!!!!  I kid you not.  This little scrap of a lady was covered in stitches.  While she's telling me this her 60 pound bulldog is yanking her off her feet!

Wendy, her younger sister-in-law, comes plodding out and she looks dark, and droopy covered in a  gown of indiscriminate color, dun maybe.  She puts her hands on the truck window and leans in like she wants to confess and have you give her some sage enlightening advice.  After a hello, she puts her hands down to caress and coo to a little black sleek dog, possibly a rat terrier, yipping at her ankles.

In the meantime, with two more dogs in the house barking their hellos and "let me out", Eda has finished her smoke and is letting the big white dog lead her inside.

Why the stitches, you ask?  Her youngest nephew's dog had bit her!   That's why the dog's now quarantined in the unattached garage in the back.  It bit her more than once.  It bit her all over!

I just shake my head when I think of her first comment to me, "Oh, I did go to the doctor -- not for surgery, to get stitches!  All over my body."

She had more divots than a Belgian waffle!