We live on a farm. Since we live on a farm, we have flies. Flies tend to go wherever they want which includes into the cars when a window is left down or the door is opened.
In addition to my mother's wacky ability to talk to animals, she also has perfected a way to get these pesky creatures out of our vehicles. According to Mom, you have to open the window and gently waft at the innocent insect with the back of your hand. The back of the hand is important, according to Mom, because approaching the fly with your palm signals to the bug that its death is imminent. In typical Pavlovian response, the fly will bolt from your open palm in order to preserve its life. By using the back of the hand, the fly will guide willingly and without fear.
But wait, there's more. It's important to not move rapidly. Moving slowly and deliberately and wafting with the back of your hand means the fly will allow itself to be guided out the window.
I didn't really believe in Mom's theory. And then when we went to swim the horses the other day, we left the windows down at Brett's and a fly got in the truck. I was trying to get it out by swatting (or as Mom said "using aggression") when Mom told me to use the back of my hand. I rolled my eyes, and did as she said. And the fly flew right out the open window.
Mom smiled at me beatifically, "I should hold clinics! I could make millions!"
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Battle at Buc-ee's
Tonight we went out to a lovely family dinner at one of my fave Chinese restaurants. It went down the usual way, with the little brother being incredibly rude to the waiter and taking a decade to eat his meal because he has to struggle with chopsticks.
On the way home, we stopped at the new Buc-ee's gas station to fill up the truck before my Dad and little sister go out of town for a softball tournament tomorrow. While at the fuel pump, my other little brother was filling the tank up.
One of the things my dad hates the most is when people pull up in their cars with rap music blaring loud enough for everyone in the city to hear, especially when the music isn't clean. One of these lovely folks pulled up next to us.
Dad, after a fit of sputtering, turned on his radio to the kind-of-local classic country station he loves. Unfortunately, most of the time this station is static-filled. Such was the case this evening. Mom turned it down, Dad turned it back up, and it went like that for a minute.
Until Dad asked "Where the hell is my Dujka Brothers CD?" Oh yeah, Dad, nothing like polka to shut up the kid in the Camry next to us.
He couldn't find the Dujka Brothers CD. So, he went with the next best thing, Johnny Cash. An elderly woman in her SUV catty-corner from us was pointing at Dad. Joey leapt into the cab and Dad pulled away from the pump, turning the radio down. The hardcore rap next to us had gone silent. Dad won.
And then he looked down at the fuel gage. Joey had only filled the truck to 3/4 of a tank full. So, tomorrow, it looks like Dad will be making another stop at Buc-ees.
On the way home, we stopped at the new Buc-ee's gas station to fill up the truck before my Dad and little sister go out of town for a softball tournament tomorrow. While at the fuel pump, my other little brother was filling the tank up.
One of the things my dad hates the most is when people pull up in their cars with rap music blaring loud enough for everyone in the city to hear, especially when the music isn't clean. One of these lovely folks pulled up next to us.
Dad, after a fit of sputtering, turned on his radio to the kind-of-local classic country station he loves. Unfortunately, most of the time this station is static-filled. Such was the case this evening. Mom turned it down, Dad turned it back up, and it went like that for a minute.
Until Dad asked "Where the hell is my Dujka Brothers CD?" Oh yeah, Dad, nothing like polka to shut up the kid in the Camry next to us.
He couldn't find the Dujka Brothers CD. So, he went with the next best thing, Johnny Cash. An elderly woman in her SUV catty-corner from us was pointing at Dad. Joey leapt into the cab and Dad pulled away from the pump, turning the radio down. The hardcore rap next to us had gone silent. Dad won.
And then he looked down at the fuel gage. Joey had only filled the truck to 3/4 of a tank full. So, tomorrow, it looks like Dad will be making another stop at Buc-ees.
Friday, May 15, 2009
An Advertisement
Hello, blog. Long time no see. A quick update before I get to today's feature. I am now a college graduate (woo!) and still jobless (boo!). In case no one has figured it out yet, the economy and job market kind of (for lack of a better word) suck right now. But, I'm not letting that get me down and I'm doing whatever I can to find a job to hold me until I can start a career.
DearCosmopolitan Magazine Houston Chronicle Wal-Mart Anybody,
Please give me a job.
I've also done the most loseriffic thing in the world and moved back in with my parents. Yes, it is hilarious. But, the main issue so far in the few days I have been back home, sleeping on my parents' couch, is that my younger brother has also returned home from his first two years of college.
When my older sister, Elizabeth, and I were younger, the last thing we wanted was a little brother. The very last thing we wanted was an annoying little brother. Yet, we have one. As farm kids, we knew that the best thing to do when something wasn't working out was to sell it. Elizabeth had an art kit. Mom had a trip to the grocery store planned. We had a mission.
We created a sign: "Free To Good Home: Brother" and taped it to Eddie's back. Mom wasn't thrilled when people were sniggering and pointing in the middle of Wal-Mart. Elizabeth and I were threatened with grounding. Apparently, simple signs taped to the item for sale/free isn't the way to go about advertising. Now, we have the fabulous world of Craigslist to attempt to sell or give away items.
Here is the ad I am considering submitting to the site:
"Free to Good Home: The Worst Brother
Newly home from an uncompleted two years at a junior college (he is lacking an Algebra credit) we find that we simply do not have the time or patience that this particular brother requires. He is a good looking brother. He is tall and 20 years old. He has brown hair and eyes. He is fit and is a former high school soccer player (Junior Varsity Midfielder/Benchwarmer).
His hobbies include showing paint horses (horse is not included) in All-Around events, playing war/conquest computer games (Not WoW!!!! This kid is a STEAL!!), and dressing up on the weekends and running around a field (Civil War Reenacting). He also cleans religiously, but only in his areas such as his bedroom. He will leave the restroom, living room, and kitchen messy. He is quick to pass the blame and will gripe endlessly about this, however.
He also uses his newly acquired not-quite-completed two years at a junior college to showcase how superior he is to the world. Not only does this include acting superior to actual university graduates, his parents, and his siblings, but also gas station attendants, movie theatre ticket takers, grocery store employees, and waiters/waitresses. (I suggest checking your food and/or beverage for any bodily fluids at restaurants).
Furthermore, this particular brother enjoys watching his war movies such as A Bridge Too Far or WWII movies in German with English subtitles as loudly as possible in the living room, despite having his own television and DVD player in his bedroom. Sometimes he will even leave the room, and when the movie is stopped he will return and throw a world calibre hissy-fit.
He is also incredibly selfish. He will use every pan in existence to cook/burn a large breakfast of eggs, ham, bacon, coffee, and toast for himself. He will not attempt to make a meal for the family but expects any other member of the household to offer that courtesy to him.
In fact, this brother came with a warning from the parental units that he is "kind of difficult to deal with." While my mother and I went and spent an hour waiting for him to load his stuff at the junior college, I saw this for myself when he complained that I wasn't helping him move his belongings. I was helping, you see, until he couldn't pay attention to the person walking behind him to go into his dormitory and slammed the automatically locking door in my face.
This brother also comes with The Worst Cat. The two are inseparable.There is a small rehoming fee for the cat."
Dear
Please give me a job.
I've also done the most loseriffic thing in the world and moved back in with my parents. Yes, it is hilarious. But, the main issue so far in the few days I have been back home, sleeping on my parents' couch, is that my younger brother has also returned home from his first two years of college.
When my older sister, Elizabeth, and I were younger, the last thing we wanted was a little brother. The very last thing we wanted was an annoying little brother. Yet, we have one. As farm kids, we knew that the best thing to do when something wasn't working out was to sell it. Elizabeth had an art kit. Mom had a trip to the grocery store planned. We had a mission.
We created a sign: "Free To Good Home: Brother" and taped it to Eddie's back. Mom wasn't thrilled when people were sniggering and pointing in the middle of Wal-Mart. Elizabeth and I were threatened with grounding. Apparently, simple signs taped to the item for sale/free isn't the way to go about advertising. Now, we have the fabulous world of Craigslist to attempt to sell or give away items.
Here is the ad I am considering submitting to the site:
"Free to Good Home: The Worst Brother
Newly home from an uncompleted two years at a junior college (he is lacking an Algebra credit) we find that we simply do not have the time or patience that this particular brother requires. He is a good looking brother. He is tall and 20 years old. He has brown hair and eyes. He is fit and is a former high school soccer player (Junior Varsity Midfielder/Benchwarmer).
His hobbies include showing paint horses (horse is not included) in All-Around events, playing war/conquest computer games (Not WoW!!!! This kid is a STEAL!!), and dressing up on the weekends and running around a field (Civil War Reenacting). He also cleans religiously, but only in his areas such as his bedroom. He will leave the restroom, living room, and kitchen messy. He is quick to pass the blame and will gripe endlessly about this, however.
He also uses his newly acquired not-quite-completed two years at a junior college to showcase how superior he is to the world. Not only does this include acting superior to actual university graduates, his parents, and his siblings, but also gas station attendants, movie theatre ticket takers, grocery store employees, and waiters/waitresses. (I suggest checking your food and/or beverage for any bodily fluids at restaurants).
Furthermore, this particular brother enjoys watching his war movies such as A Bridge Too Far or WWII movies in German with English subtitles as loudly as possible in the living room, despite having his own television and DVD player in his bedroom. Sometimes he will even leave the room, and when the movie is stopped he will return and throw a world calibre hissy-fit.
He is also incredibly selfish. He will use every pan in existence to cook/burn a large breakfast of eggs, ham, bacon, coffee, and toast for himself. He will not attempt to make a meal for the family but expects any other member of the household to offer that courtesy to him.
In fact, this brother came with a warning from the parental units that he is "kind of difficult to deal with." While my mother and I went and spent an hour waiting for him to load his stuff at the junior college, I saw this for myself when he complained that I wasn't helping him move his belongings. I was helping, you see, until he couldn't pay attention to the person walking behind him to go into his dormitory and slammed the automatically locking door in my face.
This brother also comes with The Worst Cat. The two are inseparable.There is a small rehoming fee for the cat."
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Would you like a cherry core dial?
When I was a child, I had a slight speech impediment. Okay, so it was less "impediment" and more "chronic pronouncing words wrong". Even now, when I have (mostly) outgrown this problem, my parents (*ahem* Dad) still like to bring it up from time to time for a good chuckle.
I think it should have been obvious when I was first grasping language that I was going to have a few issues. I would always bait my hook with verms when fishing. With Dad thinking this was hilarious, I went unchecked for some time. Until my older sister solved the issue.
"They are worms, you dumbie."
I cried. I was seven. What do you expect?
The cool thing to have in elementary school was a wrist watch. I finally begged my mom for one of my own and she took me to Wal-Mart to get a cheap watch that I could lose or break and not have to worry about. At the time, Wally World carried a brand called Panama Jack. I, with my impediment, proudly announced to my mother "I would like this Puh-nom-ah Jack watch."
My mother laughed. I continued to call it Puh-nom-ah until she finally set me straight. After I had told my friends at school that I had a super cool Puh-nom-ah Jack watch.
Then, there was Mother's Day. I was so proud when my Dad handed me ten dollars and let me run wild in the store to get my mom's gift. After searching the store high and low, I found a goofy necklace set and a box of cherry cordials. At home, when mom opened her gift, I loudly asked her "Do you like cherry core dials?" Again with the laughter. Again with the letting me go with it for a few months before telling me I'm wrong.
Even now, I still struggle sometimes ("siren" in particular likes to give me a hard time). But, I've learned from my parents' lessons. If you aren't sure how to pronounce a word, look it up in the thesaurus.
I think it should have been obvious when I was first grasping language that I was going to have a few issues. I would always bait my hook with verms when fishing. With Dad thinking this was hilarious, I went unchecked for some time. Until my older sister solved the issue.
"They are worms, you dumbie."
I cried. I was seven. What do you expect?
The cool thing to have in elementary school was a wrist watch. I finally begged my mom for one of my own and she took me to Wal-Mart to get a cheap watch that I could lose or break and not have to worry about. At the time, Wally World carried a brand called Panama Jack. I, with my impediment, proudly announced to my mother "I would like this Puh-nom-ah Jack watch."
My mother laughed. I continued to call it Puh-nom-ah until she finally set me straight. After I had told my friends at school that I had a super cool Puh-nom-ah Jack watch.
Then, there was Mother's Day. I was so proud when my Dad handed me ten dollars and let me run wild in the store to get my mom's gift. After searching the store high and low, I found a goofy necklace set and a box of cherry cordials. At home, when mom opened her gift, I loudly asked her "Do you like cherry core dials?" Again with the laughter. Again with the letting me go with it for a few months before telling me I'm wrong.
Even now, I still struggle sometimes ("siren" in particular likes to give me a hard time). But, I've learned from my parents' lessons. If you aren't sure how to pronounce a word, look it up in the thesaurus.
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