Cappy Lowers the Doom

   I'll tell you, it wasn't easy when Cappy was out on the boat and I had to learn to be the "man" of the house until he got back home to resume that role. I had to deal with mechanics who didn't care one whit that I had gone online and thoroughly researched the problem I was having with our SUV, and what part I thought they should repair.  
   "Uh yeah, (little lady) we'll take a look at it for ya," with exchanged looks and eye rolls at one another, they hoisted their britches and clipboard in hand, headed back into the dark recesses of the mechanic's garage where a sign boldly forbade any customers from entering. A couple of times, I happened to be right, much to their chagrin. They had one of the "gals" who worked in the office come and tell me so, and that they were going to replace that particular part...and when they did "voila!" it worked great. Still, it was always a daunting process, dealing with those guys.
  Plumbers coming to the house, same thing. I might investigate the problem, but it didn't always work; they always seemed to talk over my head, "Well, yeah, I'll have to get a double-whirrled purple slath-branger ratchet to finish the job...might cost you a li'l extra, but if yer wantin' the thing to work, an' all...we can fix it."

  Yeah, well, so "I" managed to get the job done, dealing with them.
  I don't even want to talk about electricians or A/C installers or yard workers, etc., etc., etcetera...sigh...it was rough. It got to the point that I'd rather let things hang,'til Cappy got off the boat, which was not always a pleasant "surprise" for him to come home to, when all he wanted to do was relax. So I'd muster up my courage to muddle through the doom and gloom and try it again, sometimes with success and sometimes, not.
  Well, now he's home for good and I'll tell ya, he has really lowered my stress level when it comes to home repairs, etc. Presently, we (he) is handling the bathroom plumbing situation, talking with people who know he means business...and we are planning a trip to Lowe's.
  AHA! Going to Lowe's now is a fun experience...not the dreaded groveling forages into the cavernous aisles I had to endure. With Cappy it's always a fun adventure.
   That reminds me of a couple of stories we had posted here on our blog about just this very thing. Enjoy!

                 But I Don't Wannnna Be a Cowboy
                                                    (originally posted 8/26/2006)  
   Well, now that I've been feeling better, I've tried to get back on track with everything again. Since finishing the den, I've been camping out in the computer-"slash"-guest room, having torn the bedroom apart in preparation for 'de-constructing' and remodeling in a style totally different from Cappy's den, which I love, but want something more light in color and open in feeling, if not in fact. (We live in what Cappy refers to as a 'shoebox'.)
   One of the first things I had to do was purchase storage racks and baskets for the clothes in the closet, because the closet is the first thing on the list to be torn apart.
   Cappy and I usually go together when we shop at the big home improvement stores, but him being out on the boat, I put on my big girl overalls with a tape measure hung on my pocket, list in hand, and swaggered across the parking lot like John Wayne. Too bad there weren't swinging doors; I coulda barged into the place like I owned it, doors flapping behind me. I was gonna look those guys dead in the eye and let 'em know I mean business, not let them double-talk me about pneumatic explosive nail drivers or double hung stud finders....none of that stuff. I pretty much knew what I was looking for, all I hadda do was find it.
   I mosied to the back of the store and found what I needed, but dang if I didn't come up short and needed to ask for help.
   A tough-lookin' gal in a red 'get-up' said she could help, but then called a guy to come answer my questions.
   I steeled myself. I pushed back my shoulders, stuck out my chin and waited. Waited some more. Waited some more. Relaxing a little, I looked around wondering where everybody went...did all the mens dive behind the bar when I strode through those front door with a chip on my shoulder?
   Just when I was about to give up, some 'dandy' pranced down the aisle toward me, all smiles. (I think they hone their timing 'til they see the customer begin to wilt and are more vulnerable...then they pounce.) I've gotta say he was pretty witty and entertaining, but he couldn't answer my questions, so he called another dude on the phone to come help me. As he was flitting away, he turned back and said in a mock provocotive tone, "...Ya know...I could hang around here with you and wait til the other guy shows up?"
   I musta taken off my tough guy exterior when I wasn't looking. I clinked my spurs together, stiffened my spine again and said, "No, but thanks for offering."
   Just then a deep voice behind me said, "Well, I can hang    around with you and wait 'til the other guy gets here, too."
   I turned and saw an older man sitting on one of those motorized scooters, leaning back on one arm, his other arm extended over the steering wheel as though it were a hot red convertible, complete with a 'hubba-hubba' backseat.
   I smiled and was about to joke that his shirt had lost a few buttons, but then decided it might embarrass him. I told him the same thing I had told the 'dandy', "No, but thanks for offering."
   He drove on.
   While I was muttering to myself that I'd probably be waiting forever on this next store helper, a man looking to be in his 50's strode around the corner and jokingly asked me what it was I was looking for anyhow. (anyhow??) And this man had his pale green shirt unbuttoned almost halfway down his front, exposing his hairy grey chest like the guy on the scooter.....oh WAIT...it was the 'scooter guy'... walking around.
   He said, "I reallly will wait around with you 'til the guy shows up."
   Suddenly I got the feeling that this was his 'supermarket'...his 'bar'...and he was a 'lounge lizard', cruising the back aisles of the hardware section looking for gullible females.
   Well, by that time I was totally disarmed and disoriented. I humored him a few minutes with chit-chat about remodeling, etc., then high-tailed it outa there with the shelves and baskets I had already found, unanswered questions flying in the breeze behind me, quickly paid for my purchases and slinked back across the parking lot without what I'd really come for.
   Next time I'll up the ante; I'll go back as Arnold Schwarzenegger.
         And another post of how things are when Cappy lowers the doom (my stress level) at Lowes: click the link here and enjoy the fun...   http://cappyandpegody.blogspot.com/search?q=hummingbird+gumbo

Well, This is a New LOWE's, I Must Say!

 

   Well, this should be interesting: the new stove was supposed to be delivered the next morning between 8 A.M. and noon, so we set the cuss-ed broken down, cantankerous, not working, or worse BURNING while my back was turned old one out in the yard to have it out of the way, and for a friend, who gathers scrap metal and wanted it.

The next morning (Tuesday) no stove delivery. An empty cavern in the kitchen waiting for it.

"They" messaged that it would, instead, be delivered, not from the local store where we ordered it, but from one of their stores 20 miles further away, and to expect it next Friday, again, between 8 A.M. and noon. WHAT?! four days with no kitchen stove/oven?
Well, we made it.
   So today, Friday, we stayed put waiting, but no stove, again. We called several times, only to have to listen to horrible muzak, busy signals, then discovered we'd been dropped.
   FINALLY, at long last, Cappy listened to a very chirpy, happy lady recording, letting us know that our stove is expected (EXPECTED??) to be delivered, now, NEXT Friday. Another week from now.
   I've been cooking, using my Ninja pot and toaster oven, and I'm JUST THIS STUBBORN (ask my kids) I'm going to WAIT this whole next week, just to see what's going to happen,
   Oh we WILL get a new stove whenever. I know, I know, I should probably cancel the order, but I'm not! We'll just see what we get and see what "they" get for customer reviews.
   I'm thinking major discount, as well, for me/us, but darn it, I'm thinking that we should be "grate-FULL" by now, but I'm not!

We All Do It, Just Not in a Truck

 I was in standstill traffic all day, all day, all day out in the country and no gas stations or any place in sight...just sitting in the car for hours in a line of cars going nowhere on my way to Texas to escape Hurricane Ida.

   I hadn't seen a bathroom in about four hours, so by now I was desperate! (Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation?)

   Finally we inched up to a wide area in the road, so I lost my place in line when I pulled over, got out, went around and opened the front and back passenger doors, (good thing I was wearing one of my long black baggy tunics to maintain some kind of modesty.) I leaned over, "dropped trou" half way down and used my brand new plastic purple discreet ladies emergency urinal.

   Ohh! It was the best "potty break" I can remember in a long time;....not since I peed about a gallon all over the insides of my daughter, Jennifer's husband, David's brand new so PROUD of big huge pickup truck; down the back of the driver's seat, poured down the back of my legs, filled my shoes, about an inch thick on his fancy carpet "protector" pads.  Sighhh...but it was SUCH an amazing relief. But then I was cold, waist down the rest of the ride back to their house. But I digress, that was about three years ago.

   Last year when I lost my place in line "running" from the hurricane, I inched back up to the road and somebody let me back in. I think they must have understood, 'cuz, about five minutes later, they pulled over and I think they did the same thing, but, maybe they didn't have a fancy purple plastic discreet ladies emergency urinal, so I don't know what they did.

    How is it, you ask that I flooded David's truck?

   About three years before this, Jennifer and David were living in Galveston, Texas on the island. They were going on a Christmas cruise, so Cappy and BeauxBear and I were staying at their place to babysit their two doggies.

  On the morning they were leaving to get to the cruise ship, David drove us all to the ferry, where we waited in a long line of traffic for the ferry to arrive.  As old as I am, this was a new and exciting experience for me!  

  We rode the wavy, swirly packed-jammed-with-trucks-and-cars ferry across the 20+ minute ride to the mainland of Galveston. 

   Once we got to the cruise ship docking area, there was a wait for the people...masses of them, to pull up to a certain area in a certain order, before Jen and David could get out of the truck with their luggage. 

   When they were finally able to get out of the truck to board the huge cruise ship, I took over the driving of his big fancy truck with him giving me all kinds of instructions in the care and driving of it.

 "You will LOVE driving it and the way it handles, you'll see." And patting the hood and smiling and waving, they were off. Five minutes or so, I was peeing in the front seat, eyes rolling back in my head, sighing with delirious relief.

   I had gone before we left the house, but the wait for the ferry, while David was driving was extra long and we ended up taking the second or third ferry.

   Then when they got out, I knew I could make it "home"...just hold it. BUT...the ferry we had to take back...the same problem...extra long wait in long lines with no place to hide in broad daylight with cars lined up on either side of us, all waiting to get onto the ferry. 

   I was moaning by the time I drove up onto the bouncing ferry.

  Up and down,  up and down on the waves...will this ferry ever get moving?? Besides up and down, rubbing against the dock? Finally...FINALLY we started to move but the current was slower going back than coming across.

  I bawled to Cappy, "I'm hurting myself....I can't take this."

  He carries an empty plastic Purex laundry detergent jug on road trips, so he was good to go, hunkered down below the door frame and high up in that truck so nobody could see him. 

   I blathered and blatted, "There's no place to GOooooo! I've never had to go this badly in my whole life...ever!"

  He said, "Well, ya caint just sit there and hurt yerself like that....PEE!"

  Me---> "Huh?"

  "GO! We'll clean it  up when we get back...GO!"

    So, I already filled you in on how it went...or how I went. (Just now I let out another deep breath of relief, remembering how holy/sinful/wonderful and warm it felt at the time.)

  But, then I sat there sopping wet and it started to get cold with the engine off in the December Texas winter bobbing up and down in David's brand new so PROUD of his really nice truck on this ferry, and we were only halfway across to the other landing. (At that point, I didn't dare turn on the engine for fear I'd somehow nudge it out of gear and slam into the vehicle ahead of us...or behind us.)

  I was afraid the attendants who were walking back and forth would see the pee flowing out beneath the truck, bang on the window to tell us we had sprung a leak of some kind, but I knew if I opened the window, a warm stream of hot urine vapors would rush up and out into their face as they stood leaning in looking all concerned for the truck.

  I sat there with my hands gripped frozen to the steering wheel mentally trying to move the bouncy-bouncy ferry across the darned water and GET US THERE! 

   We FINALLY did get back to David and Jen's in time for David to call as we were pulling into the driveway to see how much I had loved the driving of his baby.

  They were still sitting there waiting to get on the ship.

  "Fine-fine, it drives like a dream, David," I tried sounding upbeat.

   I ran in and grabbed a roll of paper towels and went out to try to sop up my mess, but....whatna? I couldn't find anything wet...I dabbed at the carpet, but nothing came up.

"Did I dream I peed in here???"  I tried sopping some more.  I was thinking I'd have to invest in Arm & Hammer to get enough baking soda to sprinkle all over to get the stink out...when it started to smell, because we all knew it would.

  It didn't that afternoon. It was Christmas-day-before-eve. 

  The next day, it still didn't smell. It was like nothing had happened. We went to the store...shrug...no smell, no wet, no nothing.

               Hmmm.....Welllllll.....Hmmmmm

The whole week...nothing. Cappy and I just looked at each other. Maybe we were nose blind.

  Some close friends of ours came to spend a day with us, Doxie and Mavis. We had Doxie fetch something out of the truck...we told him how much David was proud of his new truck. Doxie said, "Nice...it still has that new leather car smell."

  (You kidding?!)

   So, we never did get the baking soda, I cringed when it was time to go pick Jen and David up from the cruise ship because I knew he would know for sure, the minute he sat in his driver's seat again.

  Nope...like nothing different at all. So, Cappy, BeauxBear and I came back home here, like nothing had happened at all, but I felt so GUILTY...I knew I should have told him...I knew I should have.

   Well....forward again to this last year and the hurricane I was telling you about and the long ride to Texas to get away. I ended up staying with Jen and David for a month because the damage from the hurricane was so bad back here at home.

   So, now Jen has David's truck and David has another brand new even bigger pickup RAM truck.  I thought I could finally confess...I did. I was bawling.

  He kept soothing, "Don't worry about it, it's nothing."

  I sobbed, "It wasssss, I'm so sorry...I should have told  you way back then!" (but I didn't tell him how much I had enjoyed it)

   Finally, He said in his wonderful Kentucky voice, "That aint NOTHIN"...worse than that has been done it it....I've had flyin' hot molten dah-reer in 'er...a couple a times"

  Jennifer--->"WHAT??? In MY truck??? WHY didn't you tell me? And THAT's why you gave me that truck!!!"

Moral of the story: I'm going to hang onto that fancy plastic purple ladies emergency urinal; one just never knows. And, as I always tell other people who find themselves in unholy situations that have unmercifully befallen them, "Don't worry, you'll get your dignity back." I dunno...I hope I have.

     Another lesson learned: You know what? Ferries have bathrooms. 

  

In the Pink, So Far

   Well, Cappy got a good report from the doctor's office today, so YAY!! That's the good news...the GREAT news. 

   The other news is: Looking around our "kingdom;" is not so pretty. For the last couple of years, with Cappy's health in a downward spiral, as he describes it, and my not able to handle working outside in the HEAT, Cappy and Pegody's World has become a weed jungle. The yard is in desperate need of care. 

   Our neighbors, whose yards are showcases, have stepped in with their riding lawn mowers and made quick work of the grass. Now, with Cappy's health improving, we are hoping to make inroads on the yard's upkeep.

   Presently, and for the last while, to seek solace, we sit in what we refer to as our "courtyard" area in the back. Here we spend time dreaming about what steps, tho' minor, we can take to begin the tasks at hand. Since this is our place of reverie, we find ourselves snipping at this odd branch or picking that weed there...little things, as we recuperate. (I got socked with another bout of celiac distress...accidentally, at a very nice restaurant got served a dish with wheat in it, GAH!!) 

   While perusing FaceBook's local pages, we noticed that there is a flurry of activity surrounding a particular climbing rose named the Peggy Martin. It gained popularity in our area due to the fact that it had survived a long bout of saltwater in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. 

   Some people are saying that this beautiful little rose has no thorns, while other folks say it does have small thorns. Some say the rose is pink, others say it is white, others insist it is red. Nonetheless, wherever the truth lies, it seems everyone is rushing to snap them up. In light of the fact that we've not been able to persuade anything to climb up the two trellises on our shed, we thought that maybe this resilient Peggy Martin might do the trick, so we hopped in the SUV and drove to a local nursery to "get while the gettin' was good," if they still had any left. They did, so we got two of them.

   Now, I'm thinking that while our 'courtyard' area isn't a priority, (what with the rest of the yard looking so awful...and believe me it does, especially our driveway area!) just this little bit of pretty has inspired us to get up off our thrones and go step-by-step (baby steps, even) to try to make our "realm" more presentable. We plan on making "VLOGs" along the way of our progress. Come join us; we could use your company and encouragement. 

   (Presently, the newly planted Peggys do have small thorns and the flowers are pink. I hope they manage to survive this Peggy's yard, because I'd hate to add 'crinkley brown' to the list as one of Peggy Martin's descriptions.)

Link to our VLOG about the Peggy Martin roses is in the picture below. 

(Lord Help us, it was hard making this video using  YouTube's music, after trial and error and error and error, I still managed to cut Cappy off a li'l at the end there. Hope you like it anyhow!) 

      

Where Have We Been!?

  As y'all know, too, the last few years have been tough on all of us.  As for Pegody and me, we are hoping that today's post will mark the beginning of a new era, as we plan to return here to our blog and YouTube channel.(Search: https://www.youtube.com/user/cappyandpegody where, so far, we have 94 videos) We plan to begin telling about our world again through what we think are called "V-logs" or somethinglikethatthere.    The short ~4 minute video below will let you know how things have been going here with us.

   We did miss y'all, thought about y'all, and we hope y'all come along with us as we relearn and start on over on Cappy and Pegody's World.  

 

Maddening

   I told Cappy, "I'm sorry, I just can't do it anymore; he drives me crazy". 

    I know a lot of people love John Madden, Cappy being one of them. It was rough enough suffering through years of Howard Cosell. That guy would get on my nerves as a sports broadcaster. If somebody on the field made a mistake early on in a game, he'd excoriate them saying something like,"That guy is a bum, he'll never go anywhere in this field of sports", then later on in the game when things had turned around for that particular player, Cosell, would 'swagger' something like, "I told you all along this guy was one great player, he's really going to go far in his career as a football player; remember, you heard it here first". Still, I was sad to see ol' Howard go; you know how it is. Although he aggravated me, others loved him, and he was a part of the 'watching sports experience' for years and years.

   Then it became John Madden's turn 'at bat', so to speak. Well, as I said, the guy just drives me nuts. He's a likeable ol' fella, but when I'm in the big fat old middle of an intense game, I get so angry when he's busily showing replays and drawing all over the board, when in the background the tv viewers can hear the roar of the crowd in the stadium because another play is going on...but we can't see it...nooooo...we are watching John draw X's and O's and lines all over the screen.

   Well, I love watching football games with Cappy because it's just a lot of fun, being on the same side, most every time, curled up together, snacking on good stuff, shouting for our team, or gnashing our teeth when they mess up. 

   When he's out on the boat, and too far out of range for television reception, it's okay if he's still in range to pick up a good radio reception. When he can get neither, it's rough for him. At those times he's asked me to turn it up a little so maybe he can hear it over the phone, but that usually doesn't work either. So I usually used to just tell him, disdainfully, some of the stuff John was dispensing, as part of his expertise as a broadcast analyst. Stuff, like, "Hey, the offensive linemen are the biggest guys on the field, they're bigger than anybody else, and that's what makes them the biggest guys on the field". I guess that would stand to reason...and so does, "Here's a guy, when he runs, he moves faster". I know I'm blonde and all, and not familiar with all the nuances of the game, but at least this next one, I, too, have to agree with, "To get more yards, it's best to move the ball from the line of scrimmage down the field".

   But,I got so I just couldn't take it anymore, nice guy that he is.

   Now just put yourself in poor Cappy's shoes, tho. He's in a blackout area, and really, REALLY wants to hear how the New Orleans Saints are doing. They've gotten pretty darned good in the last few years, so we are having a blast watching and rooting for them. So there he is; no television...no radio...and I have both.

    At first he'd ask me, "What's going on??? I can hear yelling and cheering...tell me". So I thought I'd turn John Madden's sound off, so I couldn't hear it and tell Cappy what I saw going on, on the field. I'd really get into the game and start yelling, "OH!!!! He's got the ball!! He's GOT the ball and he's running down the field with it!!!"

   Cappy would yell back, "WHO's got the ball??"

   I'd be saying, "I can't see his number but he's ....OH NOOOO!!!!" 

   Cappy:"What?!? What happened?"

   Pegody: "I don't know, I'm trying to find out, he's laying on the ground all curled up in pain holding his leg, and now they are bringing out a stretcher". 

   Cappy: "WHO??? Our guy? One of ours?"

   Pegody: "Oh, they've gone to a commercial". OR. Pegody:"Oh, one of our guys is running down the field and they tackled him". 

   Cappy: "Where did they tackle him?" 

   Pegody:"On the field". 

   Cappy:"$#!+!!...WHERE on the field??" 

   Pegody:"Oh, I can't see his number, or the number on the ground where he fell down".         Cappy:"He fell down? I thought you said they tackled him." 

  Pegody: "Oh, they've gone to another commercial; no, they're back already and now they're gonna kick it".

   Cappy: "For a field goal??"

   Pegody:"No, it's for one of those long kicks".

   Cappy:"&*!!$%????!". 

   Pegody:"Okay...the Bengals are running with it, and now one of the Colts tackled him...yay!"     Cappy:"Peg....what is a COLT doing suited up and running onto the field to tackle anybody for...this is a game between the Saints and the Bengals". 

   So I tried to concentrate a little more to make the game a little more accurate for him. (Okay...concentrate on who is doing what and what the numbers are on the lines. Pegody:"Okay, there's the snap...one of our guys is running....Wow! He's really running...he's ahead of the pack....he's at the 20...the 30! the 40! the 50! the 55! the 60! Oh no!!! They tackled him at the 65 yard line". 

   At which point Cappy said, "Uh, Dear, I think I'm going to let my co-pilot take over, so I can go take a nap...I love you, Dear". 

   He didn't even want to hear the rest of the game, to see who won! I think I'll tell Cappy in the morning he can have ol' John back, or whoever it is now. 

   I'll tell him, "I just can't do it anymore; I drive you crazy".

   I didn't even watch the rest of the game, so I don't even know who won, so therefore, I'm going to quote good old John Madden, who apparently does a better job than I do, and he says, "Usually the team with the most points wins the game". 

 That's it, and there ya go.

Yeahhh...We Gotta Fix Dat.

 

Since our back door hasn't been locking well,I always set up a complicated booby-trap at night, stringing up mostly loud,noisy,"rattley" kitchen items, plus a broom to fly at their head in the dark to terrorize anyone who would deign to try to sneak into the kitchen while we are asleep, and also to wake us and da dawg up. It's probably not even necessary because we live in the tiniest house in the neighborhood surrounded by homes that would be more profitable to sneak into, any time of day or night. It's only because our bichons have actually chased people out of our dark yard at night...thank God they were with me while I was out there! I still get nightmares about it. As Cappy likes to say, "In today's brave new world, who knows what to expect anymore", and thus,nightly,I maniacally contrive my crazy "Rube Goldberg" "petard".

  This morning I forgot to undo the whole shebang.

  Presently,I'm in the computer room,adressing Christmas card envelopes while keeping BeauxBear with me to prevent him from making trouble with Cappy and the Spectrum cable guy, who is here because their tv service has been crazily "pixelating" since the hurricane.

  While absent-mindedly writing and shushing BeauxBear to make him be quiet, I could hear the men amicably chatting in the den, while trying to work out the problem with the TV, then they moved into the bedroom to check out "my" tv, which was having the same infuriating "pixelating" issue. 

  Apparently the man, who has been working many, many hours of overtime, trying to make hurricane damage cable repairs, sometimes until as late as 11 o'clock at night, as are his fellow crew-members--and he was having a bad day already, what with his truck not working,and then the next company truck he was relegated to try out, with the wrong equipment on board, fought with him tooth and nail to get here in this miserable "piece of truck", and all the while he was trying not to be late, and not looking forward to the prospect of his whole day looming over him with truck problems now in the mix. In spite of his aggravation, he sounded as though, by talking and joking with Cappy, that his nerves were calming down a little.

  Happily visiting, they moved along to the back side of the house and out the open window I could hear them begin talking more business-like; the Spectrum guy was explaining to Cappy, thus, "Now, ya see here, this line goes...". I kept mindlessly writing, enjoying the cool breeze.

  Suddenly, there came such a loud racket and horrible ruckus!...things crashing in several tones, like metal and clunking pans and Cappy's voice hollering and the Spectrum guy who had opened the door for Cappy,yelping!! 

  (...and me...I was in here nodding, "Oh no! I know what that was." I stayed put.)

   The guy gasped and whimpered, "Did I do that?"

   Cappy just shuffled on in, moving a path in the odds and ends with his foot, knowing just who...(in this case not a fancy "whom"), but who he is married to, said,"No..." and was about to go into detail, but the guy rushed off around the side of the house to his truck, exclaiming in a high, pinched voice that he had a full day ahead of him, slammed his "piece of truck" door and chugged it out of the neighborhood.

  Ahh, I think we'd better get that lock fixed. I don't want to get hoist in my own 'trap'...now I've got to go gather up my "ammunition" and get ready to reset it again tonight. 

  I "pity the fool". 

      ...Don't you?       

Presented Again This Year, Because it's One of My Favorites to Tell: I'm Mrs. Green Christmas, I'm Mrs. Sun...

                                              (Originally posted Monday, Dec. 11, 2006)

   This was the scene out my window every year. Although most everybody else I know/knew in western NY just love to go out and frolic in the snowy weather, I preferred to stay in cuz it was COLD out there. I still talk to people who say, "Oh, I love the cold". Good for them. It's just not for me, and never has been, even when I was younger. 

   The only way I can remember liking snow was when I might go out for rides in a warm car, stuff like that.

    I know how to drive in deep snow. I remember having to drive one morning before the snow plows went through, and having to guess where the road was, hoping not to drive into a ditch. I made it okay.

   I know my Aunt Bev hates the cold, too, but it's mostly my fault. She and I are only 20 days apart. (Imagine your Mom and Grandmother both being pregnant at the same time. I 'won', so I'm older. She holds every one of those 20 days over my head..."You're OLD". So, I don't call her Aunt, either.) 

   Well, anywaze...Yeah, it's kinda my fault Bev got her fingers frozen when we were wild and crazy teenagers. I had this nerdy boyfriend (Paul), who ended up being Bev's boyfriend later on.     At the time, she was having dental work cuz, as she put it, her teeth were all "snaggle-toothed" and it made her chin jut way out, kinda lantern-jawed.

    But, anyhow, because Paul got to drive his parents' car around, we three, Bev, Paul and I went on a lot of excursions together, summer and winter, which was fun. 

   One night, a few days before Christmas, Bev and Paul got the idea to buy some 'liquor' to celebrate the holidays. Oh sure...I was "innocent"...(I thought it was a great idea, too). Paul was 18, old enough to buy it, but we were only 16.

    He came back out of the store with some "Triple Applejack"...a cheap wine, of sorts. It was pretty yucky tasting. Not sure what ol' Paul thought of it, but Bev pretty much liked the taste of it. 

   We had driven, in a snow storm, along a country road, then stopped so Bev could get out and 'potty'. By that time, she was pretty 'wasted'. I had to get out and help her over a snowbank, out of sight, to get her tight girdle down, so she could 'go', then try to reverse the procedure. The poor girl was roaring drunk, happily singing at the top of her lungs up into the icy black sky with its shiny stars staring down at our debacle as we staggered around in snow up to our thighs.

   I had to sit her down on the edge of the snow bank and told her to fling her legs over the top of it, to get to the other side and back to the car. 

   She kept trying to flop them up, while repeating, "I just FLING my legs up over the shnow banKK...", but her legs wouldn't go.

    She looked me earnestly in the eye and said, "I hope I don't throw up in my sleeve....ok, just FLING my leg UP over the shnow banKK", but it still didn't go.

    "What do you mean, 'throw up in your sleeve!??" I asked.

    "Kathy (another friend of ours) got drunk one time and didn't have anywhere to throw up, so she opened the cuff of her sleeve and threw up in it". Bleckkk.

    "Well, that's not going to happen to you...you aren't going to do that...hold on, let me get Paul, so he can help me get you back into the car."

    Once we got her back into the warm car, we took the bottle away from her, and got the car in motion. 

   We were starting to worry, cuz the storm had turned into a blizzard and visibility was getting bad. The car went a little ways up the slight hill, then the wheels started spinning. Paul tried backing the car back down the hill, but it slid into Bev's "shnowbankKK" and got stuck.

   Oh Oh. Now what? This was before cell phones. This was WAY back. Bev was wearing a 'girdle', remember? 

   I said that I thought I remembered seeing the lights of a house not far from where we were, but it was sitting up a long driveway on a hill.

   Paul, continued to try to spin us out of there with his Dad's car. He did manage to back us up into the ditch at the end of the driveway I'd seen. 

   And again, Now what? Well, we could walk up to the house and call a tow truck to come and get us out. Paul, for sure, didn't dare call his parents. The alcohol and all. (and this was even way back before they 'carded' people) Still, his father wouldn't have appreciated we three 'nice' Church Kids having liquor...and in his car, no less. 

   Since Bev had gotten the bottle back again, with what little was left in it and was patting it and singing Christmas Carols, loudly, Paul and I talked over her, trying to figure out what to do. It was a long freezing walk, but we decided that he and I would trudge to the house that looked so warm with lights shining from the windows, and leave Bev in the warm car, bundled up, ...with her bottle, and we'd be RIGHT back. For her to just stay put! We'd be RIGHT back. 

   She said, "OKAYYYY". 

   The icy air blew right through our coats, freezing us. 

   We finally made it to the house and knocked on the door. A nice lady answered and brought us right inside. We put on our best Sunday School manners and demure politeness and explained that our car was stuck at the end of their driveway, and that my aunt was staying warm in the car waiting for us.

    Well, of course she let Paul make a phone call, then insisted on making us some tea to warm us up from that walk up the hill.

    Her house was all pretty; cozy and quiet, and she was so sweet. 

    I daintily picked up the china cup, making sure to keep my little pinky finger up and was about to take my first sip, when suddenly there was a thundering pounding on the back door!

   The lady looked shocked and embarrassed in front of her 'genteel' guests and asked no-one in particular, "What...who in the world is that??", as she made her way toward the door. 

   Just as she got to the door, it flew open, loudly slamming into the hall wall. 

   The poor lady fell back against the same wall, shocked and horrified at the sight that just barged into her house! 

   There was Bev, hair frozen in a hundred different directions, wild-eyed, jaw jutted way out, exposing snaggled-teeth, as I'd never seen them before. She looked like an abominable snow monster! She was covered in snow and vomit was dripping out of her sleeve onto the lady's immaculately cleaned floor. 

   I stammered weakly, "Oh...it's my aunt."

   The lady shrieked, "Your AUNT?!"

   Bev wanted none of it...she pushed past the lady and said, "I just want to lay down on your red couch and throw up" 

   The lady sprang at her, wailing, "Noooo, that's my new couch, I just got that as an early Christmas present!" 

   Poor Bev. Poor lady. Bev's fingers were about frozen. I don't know what happened to her gloves...probably lost in a shnow bankK on the way up the hill. She'd gotten tired of waiting, she said. She nearly froze, too, on the way up the hill, then when she got there, she looked in the window and saw us sitting there all warm and cozy having tea. 

   She was really ticked. She still is til this day, even tho' she managed to forgive us.

   Eventually, the tow truck came and pulled us out. I don't know if Paul ever told his Dad what happened. 

   If  you ask Bev, she'll tell you how much she still gags whenever she hears the words, "Triple Applejack", and how it's my fault...and Paul's that she hates the cold, cuz of us.

                   (We never did anything like that again...just so you know, and I still hate the cold cuz it's COLD!!)

Making a Special Christmas Video for You...Ask Us About (Most) Anything :-)

 

Lizzy the Lizard Who Lost her Tail...Oh NO! This is Her Tale!

 

   I am Lizzy. I live on a Patio with a lot of other South Louisiana Lizards. We make a good living on mosquitoes, flies…you know, all the good stuff…Louisiana food can't be beat…you just ask anyone!
   Life is wonderful…or it was. I accidentally wandered into the house next to our patio and couldn't find my way out for quite a while. I finally made my very clever escape. I'm glad, too, because the food they served me in that house was boring…BORING.
  Well, as I was saying, life outside on my big patio was wonderful once again. Until.
  First of all, I don't know where they came from, but these big white furry dog-monsters started chasing me and my family for dear life. We think one of them must have got Morty because we found him laying out flat…and yes, he was dead. None of us saw what actually happened, but word got around that one of those awful birds took off with his body. Good-bye Morty, we hardly knew ye, we all said.
   Well, if that trauma wasn't bad enough, we now see this big black shiny "cat-thing" slinking and sneaking around the patio with big green eyes that are looking at everything…it chases our flies, "Hey! Those are our meals you are messing with, you!" It chases us, even! It chases the birds. It runs up trees in the yard, fast!
  Now here is the scariest thing that ever happened to me: it got me! We all saw it slinking around the corner of the lawn mower, so we all scurried under it, and I thought I'd made it, but it grabbed me! The black shiny monster had me! It was pulling me away from my family by my tail!
  I screamed, Lila, my sister screamed…my whole family and friends were screaming too!
  The monster was thrashing and causing such a wild commotion, that somehow, our beloved lawnmower moved around, which I guess scared the killer, so he let go, but one of the wheels rolled right onto my tail!
  Before the monster could get his paws under our machine, everybody grabbed onto me and pulled. I felt something behind me snap, but I was free to run with the rest of them, and so we did.
  I never saw the rest of me again, but from the stories I hear from the old folks in my family, it's supposed to grow back bigger and prettier than ever. At least that is what they are telling me.
  So, I guess the moral of my story is, be careful out there in the big scary world. (…and don't listen to Cappy's version of how the moral should go about how to not lose your tail.
   OH. 

  

 

 

 

I wrote this several years ago before Cappy retired:

  I just put Lizzie outside today. I was finally able to catch her. She was what I called a lizard, but I guess she was really a chameleon; isn't that a lizard?
I first spotted her in the den window with her little paws on the glass, looking around at the big outside world. Poor little thing.
  I tried catching her for about a week, to no avail, because she'd dive to the floor and take off zipping away, hiding behind some heavy piece of furniture that I couldn't move…but every morning she was back at her post in the window, watching life going on the outside the glass.
  I began to worry about her, thinking she'd need something to eat, especially if she was doomed to spend the rest of her life trapped inside our house, pining away for the freedom she could only see through the window. I began to put tiny little pieces of raw hamburger on the sill, along with a spot of water.
  Aww, she was so cute. Every day it was the same ritual; she'd see me getting close with the meat, so she'd run to the top of the window pane, then slowly...very slowly she'd descend, upside-down staring at the meat. When she'd get down to the corner and onto the window sill, she'd do this really funny thing with her head, quickly moving it in and out...backwards and forwards toward her meal, sometimes waving her arms around, too. She'd get to the meat, then stand and look longingly out the window some more, at which point I'd leave her alone and go get some work done. A little while later, I'd come back to find that the meat was gone and she'd be 'splayed out' all paws on the window.
  But, the other day she didn't come for the meat and I didn't see her for a couple of days. I hoped that she'd finally been able to find her way out, the same way she'd found her way in.
   I kind of missed her. When Cappy's on the boat, as silly as it seems, it's nice to have another living 'body' in the house; 'somebody' to take care of.
  This morning I was settled down on the sofa with my cup of coffee, when I saw a little movement on one of my indoor plant leaves just below the window. Then I saw a skinny tale moving around. "Lizzie??? Izzat you, girl?"
  Sure enough it was. I picked up the whole plant, hoping she'd stay put 'til I got her outside...and she did. She even tried changing colors, but she was either too worn out, or confused, because she turned tan instead of green. I took her outside and let her jump down into the flowerbed by the front door.
 "Bye Lizzie!! Have a nice life out here in your big wide world!"