Saturday, January 31, 2009

Old as Dirt

I opened up a web page earlier and saw a picture of a woman, who according to her birth certificate, is now the ripe old age of 128.

Here is the picture:

The timing of this discovery couldn't have been any better, because what I really wanted to post about is my older, much much older, brother Gene.

Yes today, 1/31/2009 marks his entry into the half century club. Hard to believe someone as young as me could have someone as old and decrepit as Gene for a brother I know, but alas it's true.

Found a couple of facts from 1959:

Average Cost of new house $12,400

Average Yearly Wages $5,010

Cost of a gallon of Gas 25 cents

Average Cost of a new car $2,200

Movie Ticket $1.00

Loaf of Bread 20 cents

Fidel Castro comes to power in Cuba after Revolution with the first communist state in the west

Alaska becomes the 49th State of the United States

Hawaii becomes the 50th State of the United States

The last musical from Rodgers and Hammerstein "The Sound of Music" opens on Broadway

Bonanza premieres on NBC, the first weekly television series broadcast completely in color

Etch A Sketch by Arthur Grandjean

I'll be heading down to go see the old man next week. He and I are going to put the siding up on his new shop (aka The Man Cave) I'll probably have to call and remind him I'm coming down there now that senility has likely set in.

Here's a age appropriate list for Gene I saw as well:

  • Your supply of brain cells is finally down to manageable size.

  • Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't remember them either.

  • You sing along with elevator music.

  • Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the national weather service.

  • You have a party and the neighbors don't even realize it.

  • People call at 9 PM and ask, "Did I wake you?"

  • People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.

  • Things you buy now won't wear out.

  • You can live without sex but not without glasses.

  • You enjoy hearing about other peoples operations.

  • You get into heated arguments about pension plans.

  • You can eat dinner at 4 P.M.

  • There is nothing left to learn the hard way.

  • You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.

  • You quit trying to hold your stomach in, no matter who walks into the room.

  • Your eyes won't get much worse.

  • Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.

  • Well, that's about all the abuse I have for now dear brother.

    Happy Birthday ya old fart!

    (If you have a minute go by and wish the old geezer a happy 50th. You can find him here.)

    Thursday, January 29, 2009

    The Non-Post Post

    Yes, you read that title correctly. I decided to put up a post that basically says nothing more than I don't have a post right now.

    I've been busier than a (____________) insert your own phrase here.

    Up early, home late and dog tired by the time me butt finally hits the chair. As a result, I haven't been doing much in the way of blogging.

    Just thought I'd let you know why I haven't been around lately.

    I did decide to start a writing blog and should have that ready to unveil in the next week. I'll keep this one going too, but for more of the day to day stuff, family happenings and general humorous and cynical style things.

    Hmmm, guess I did have something to say after all. Anyhoo, I hope some of you will still be here when I get back to regular posting again. Hopefully in the not to distant future.

    Until then ciao.

    Saturday, January 24, 2009

    February POW Photos

    Here are the photographs for February's writing challenge. My apologies for being a day late on getting these posted.

    I've opted to omit the "Purpose" category for at least this month. I seem to have a heck of a time finding a picture that carries this theme well, and I also figured we are all pretty good at determining where we want our respective stories to go without this one prompt. Please let me know your thoughts about this decision in the comment section.

    If you would like the details for this writing challenge please click here. The simplified version is as follows: Take a look at the pictures, interpret them and then write a story based on what you see and/or feel. (Remember, you don't have to use the picture verbatim, the emotion it elicits can be your inspiration as well)


    Photo Credits: AttributionNoncommercialShare Alike Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License
    (From commons, unless otherwise noted)

    Main Character- Jeff Epp
    Backdrop- Old Shoe Woman
    Item- cameronconner
    Wild Card #1- Vermin Inc
    Wild Card #2- ekpallerson
    Wild card #3- marblegravy


    If you would like to include the pictures in your story without the graphic, here they are by themselves.

    The posting dates for this writing challenge will be February 16-19

    Looking forward to another great bunch of stories.

    Happy writing.

    Friday, January 23, 2009


    If you've come by looking for next month's Portrait of Words photographs they're not quite ready yet. I thought I was going to have time to do that this week, but my buddy Cole called with a work project he needed an extra set of hands on. This was right on time too, because work has been pretty scarce the past month. We always expect that to happen this time of year, but it's never fun when it actually does.

    Anyway, I've been pretty tired by the time evening rolls around and haven't quite got the photos put into the graphics to display. Don't know if I'll get to them before this evening is over, but by tomorrow they will definitely be ready and posted.

    After that I might even have a chance to catch up on your blogs too. I've skimmed a few posts the last couple of days, although I haven't been commenting much.

    They're talking about the slight possibility of snow on Sunday. I kind of laughed, because on the news cast I watched tonight, the anchor woman more less called the weatherman "pond scum" for even mentioning it. The poor guy was just giving the forecast and he practically got shot for it.

    Okay, that's it for now.

    Sunday, January 18, 2009

    Portrait of Words #5

    Hello all and welcome to the fifth installment of the Portrait of Words writing challenge. This month's photographic prompts were provided by Dr John of Dr John's Fortress. At first I thanked him for taking the time to forward these shots from his own library to me, then I began to curse him as I starred at them for nearly three weeks waiting for a story to present itself to me with no results. Now obviously John had nothing to do with my inability to formulate words onto a page, but hey, it was easier than blaming myself right?

    Well, finally the other day an idea came to me and I was able to put this together. So good, bad or otherwise here goes:

    FYI - You may want to grab your favorite beverage before starting in on my story this month. It's a bit loooooong.


    Time To Go Home"

    "Hey boss, what do you make of this?"

    The freckle faced rookie crime scene investigator was holding up a whitewashed leather bound book of some sort. The bold lettering with a distinctively different style of writing stood out in stark contrast to the light colored cover it was embossed on. It caught my attention too, but more so for the fact that the hands holding it were not inside a pair of gloves.

    "Put that down you moron!" I shouted back, "Didn't you learn anything from your training?"

    I still couldn't believe they'd sent this snot nosed little boy to be part of my 'investigation team' as they so eloquently termed it. Hell, before junior showed up two weeks earlier, there was no team. It was just me, like it had been for the past eighteen years. I'd much preferred it would have stayed that way too, but when it was the mayor's son Arnold we were talking about, I didn't seem to have much say in the matter. He'd finished up school out west and couldn't land a job anywhere so now I was the one who got stuck with him. Of course the city counsel played it off as, "Obtaining a valuable resource that would benefit the entire community at a minimal expenditure." What a load of crap! As far as I was concerned, even an educated idiot was still just that. . . an idiot, and now he was mine to deal with. The whole thing made me feel like that old song from the Hee-Haw TV show where they'd sing, "If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. Gloom, despair and agony on me. "

    "Sorry boss, I'll put it down and just snap some photos."

    "That's a fine idea boy, and before you touch anything else, put some gloves on would ya. One other thing, if you call me boss one more time, I'm going to rip you lips off! The name's Greg. It's the same one my mother gave me nearly fifty years ago and the only one I've ever gone by. I suggest you start using it."

    I'd considered sending him to the next county over and offering the station captain in Reedsville a years salary out of my own pocket if he'd hire this kid and get him out of my hair, but Capt. Bragg was too good of a friend of mine to subject him to that type of abuse.

    While Arnold got busy snapping photographs of the Jennings' garage, I went about the business of trying to figure out what had happened here. Nothing made sense though. This quiet little house at 11247 Hydrangea Ln was the last place I expected to be called out to. Down at Jake's Tavern sure, but not here. I figured the Jennings, Miriam and Walter that is, were probably the last two people in town who'd be caught up in any sort of trouble. Still, if I'd learned anything from nearly two decades in law enforcement, it was to never assume. . . anything!

    I started sifting through the mess in front of me trying to take in the big picture before I narrowed my investigation down to the smaller details, but for some reason, my attention kept getting drawn in the direction of the book that moron boy had picked up a few moments earlier. Out of all the charred wood, shattered glass and other debris littering the room, it seemed to be the only thing unscathed by the blast. "Hmmm, blast." I contemplated that word in my mind, but wasn't sure if that was the right one for it. Still, I wondered what else could have caused this type of destruction.

    I'd get back to the book in a bit, but for now I could see through the openings that were once windows of this stone and brick built garage, that the neighbors were already gathering around and were craning their necks to get a glimpse of what had happened inside this twenty by twenty room.

    "Hey Arny, the little grunt hated it when I called him that, you got any of that fancy yellow crime scene tape out in your truck?" I called out.

    "I got a brand new roll as a matter of fact boss." he replied.

    Biting my tongue for yet again referring to me as boss, I said, "I thought you might. How's about you make yourself useful and stretch it around the property so we can keep everybody out of my. . . um. . . our hair."

    With all the enthusiasm of a puppy going after a rawhide chew toy he announced, "I can do that boss!"

    Under my breath I muttered, "Finally, something your qualified to do ya flippin' retard."

    Once deputy dufus was out from under my feet I might actually be able to get some real police work done without fear of him trampling everything in sight. No sooner had I started back on my quest for evidence than I heard a knock on what remained of the smoldering door jamb behind me. I was just about to lay into Arnold for bugging me when I heard the unmistakable raspy growl of my long time friend and colleague, Tyler Garvey. "Evening Greg, is it clear for me to come in?"

    "Howdy ya old coyote. Hell yes you can come in. It'd be nice to have someone with more than half a brain to lend an eyeball."

    Knowing full well what I meant Tyler chuckled and said, "Ya, I saw your new partner outside puttin' up tape and directing traffic."

    I walked over, grabbed his right hand, which was more like a grizzly bear's paw, and while giving him a firm handshake said, "If you weren't such a good friend of mine, I'd kick you right square in the balls for calling that pock faced runt my partner!"

    His earlier chuckle had turned into a full belly laugh by now when he replied, "Don't forget, that's the mayor's son you're talking about."

    "I'd just as soon have the mayor's dog given a choice. At least that old hound dog will sit and stay when you tell it to."

    With a nod of agreement Tyler asked, "So what do you have here?"

    "I wish I knew buddy, I really do. This is what I've got so far: Two hours ago old man Williams from across the street was tending to his roses out front of his place when he saw Miriam and Walter come outside carrying a suitcase and walking toward the garage. He asked them if they were going on a trip somewhere to which they replied, "Something like that." Without saying anything else they walked into the garage and shut the door behind them. Now you know as well as I do those two were always a little different, if you know what I mean, but even that response seemed a bit strange to Mr Williams. Well the next thing you know, he starts hearing a series of clicks and clunks coming from over here. Said it was the damnedest thing he'd ever heard. Sounded like a giant watch being wound was the best description he could come up with. He tried to dismiss it as just two oddball eccentrics out tinkering in their garage, but their earlier response to his question piqued his interest a bit more than usual. The other thing that didn't seem right was if they were going on a trip somewhere, why did they go into the garage and start banging around on stuff for a half hour instead of putting the suitcase in the car that was parked in the driveway and hitting the road?

    About this time boy wonder made his way back inside. "Okay boss, I got the whole area roped off and everybody at least fifty feet back. You think I ought to start spraying this place down with Luminol or dusting for prints or maybe I could get my light and check for bodily fluids?"

    "First of all genius, I seriously doubt anyone was raped in here, so you can keep your overpriced flashlight in your pants. Secondly, if there was blood in here don't you think it would be pretty obvious? It's not like someone came in and tried to wipe everything down before we got here. Finally, if you knew anything about these two it would be this: They never let anybody, and I mean anybody, step foot inside this garage. As you can clearly see, the windows are barred and they bricked over the roll-up door long ago, leaving the only way in or out, that small man door over there, and that they religiously kept padlocked shut when they weren't in here themselves. The only fingerprints you're going to find in here are theirs, or unless you want to count your own too."

    "I was just thinking bos---"

    "Don't say it! Don't you dare call me that you buck toothed midget! And please don't think. It hurts MY head when you do that. Tell you what, how's about you go back outside and interview all the neighbors within five houses of this place."

    "If you say so bos--- Greg."

    "I say so, now go on and see what you can find out and don't even think about talking to Missy Peterson. That sweet talkin' reporter is sure to be out there and the last thing I need is for you to say something stupid that I'm going to get blamed for later."

    "Yes sir." he replied and was once again out of my hair.

    As soon as Arnold walked back outside, Tyler piped up, "Damn Greg, that boy's dumber than a burnt stump isn't he?"

    "Four years of college and six months in the police academy and I still don't think he could find the sharp end of a pencil. Now let's see, where was I? Oh ya, old man Williams. So with curiosity getting the better of him, he decides to go across the street to see what all the noise is about. As he gets closer he notices the door isn't completely shut all the way, so he peers through it to see what's going on inside. He told me he couldn't believe it, but those two crazy old coots were each sitting on top of one of those carousel horses on that miniature merry-go-round delee-bob they kept in here. He said he heard Walter ask Miriam if she was ready to go home now. After she said yes Walter started speaking in some sort of weird gibberish that Mr Williams had never heard before. Next thing you know, that contraption they were sitting on started turning around. It started slowly at first, but then it really started picking up steam he said. Within thirty seconds it was a blur, moving so fast you couldn't tell person from wooden horse. He stood there frozen, watching and wondering what the heck he was looking at. As he went to push the door open, a flash, bigger than any lightning he'd ever seen, filled the entire room and a gust of wind knocked him flat on his ass. The poor old fart can still just barely see out of his left eye as a matter of fact."

    "So what happened to Walter and Miriam?" Tyler eagerly asked.

    "That my friend is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Far as I can tell they just up and vanished!"

    The look in Tyler's eyes spoke volumes. I could tell he was sure the cheese had finally slipped off my cracker. "Come on Greg, you know as well as I do people don't just vanish into thin air,"

    "Any other time and I'd agree with you one hundred percent. Today though, I just don't know. Look around, do you see any sign of them? There are no bodies except for you and me in this room. Hell, there isn't even any trace of a body. No blood, no guts, no nothing. All this despite the fact that Mr Williams clearly saw them in here just as what ever happened, happened."

    "You sure old man Williams wasn't nipping at the vino a little early today Greg?" Tyler asked.

    "Thought about that too," I replied, "but he swears straight up and down that wasn't the case. In fact I've already had another neighbor say they saw those two walk in here after Williams hollered across the street at them. No, I'm sure they were in here."

    "What about those couple of windows?" Tyler offered, "Maybe they got blown out through one of them?"

    "I considered that, but take a closer look at them. The metal bars are still attached on the outside, only the glass is missing. That would have been like passing them through a cheese grater. If that would have happened, there'd be little pieces of them everywhere. I looked, there aren't"

    Tyler took the baseball cap off his nearly bald dome and scratched the back of his head where what little hair he had remained. "I gotta tell you, this is starting to sound more like an episode of the X-Files than any type of accident I've ever encountered. None of this makes any sense at all. There's got to be some sort of logical explanation to what happened in here."

    We both started scanning the room again for something that would make heads or tails of our quandary when our eyes simultaneously locked on the leather bound book laying on the floor. Somehow we knew opening it would bring us the much needed answers we were seeking. What we didn't know is that it would create just as many questions in return.

    I reached down and picked it up. Pointing to the writing on the cover I asked, "What do you make of this?"

    "Good lord." I thought to myself. "That's exactly what that spit for brains kid asked me at the beginning of this whole ordeal. Might just as well put a bullet through my skull if I start taking like that idjit." I continued thinking.

    Fortunately Tyler snapped me out of it when he replied, "Not sure, looks Greek to me. Open it up and let's have a look inside."

    I wasn't sure if his "looks Greek" comment was sincere or not, or if he was just being a smart ass, but I opened it none the less. Immediately the smell of musty old forgotten about books wafted up into our nostrils. The pages were cracked and yellowed from what appeared to be one of the oldest books either of us had ever held before and with Tyler peering over my left shoulder we proceeded ever so carefully to pour through the pages one by one. There were countless diagrams of the carousel that once stood in this room along with numerous mathematical computations accompanying them. Throughout the margins there were also several notations indicating the importance of certain aspects of the drawings. What we were looking at seemed to be a building schematic and operating manual, but one much more complex than was necessary for something as relatively simple as a carousel. One other thing that stood out as we scanned over the plans was a series of small numbered and lettered wheels that appeared to form two separate and adjustable calendars.

    From over my shoulder, Tyler asked, "So who needs a calendar while they're riding on a merry-go-round?"

    "I've got a pretty good idea," I said, "but I'm certainly not ready to say it out loud just yet."

    Turning over the next several pages in this strange book revealed something of a photographic journal through the ages. I could feel the blood drain from my face as the two of us viewed several dozen Polaroid pictures of some of the most unmistakable snippets in time from the past two thousand years. Strange as that may have seemed what was even more bizarre is that in every single instance, either Walter or Miriam was in the photograph!

    Among the photos there was one of President Lincoln shaking hands with Walter in front of Ford Theater and another of Miriam along side of the first Queen Elizabeth! One by one we looked on with astonishment at these snapshots of history.

    Tyler chimed in, "This has got to be some sort of computer generated, Photoshop style trick we're looking at here."

    "There's just one problem with that theory," I returned, "These are all Polaroids, and the last time I checked, they get spit out directly by the camera, not a computer program. I don't know how you fake these, and to compound matters, I don't know how two people simply vanish."

    Tyler had taken the book out of my shaking hands by this point. Turning to the last page and pointing, he said, "I think I've just found our answer."

    There on the inside of the back cover was a photograph of an unassuming cobblestone street located in London, England. It appeared to be taken somewhere around the late eighteen hundreds. The caption underneath it simply said "Home".


    Whew, did you make it to the end? If so thank you for taking the time to read it. Comments and constructive criticism are gladly accepted.

    If you're participating in the challenge don't forget to sign in on Mr Linky below.

    Dr John, I was teasing you earlier, but would like to sincerely thank you again for the photographs.

    Check back this Friday for next month's writing prompts too.

    Thursday, January 15, 2009

    Stories and Questions

    A quick reminder that this Monday, Jan 19 through Wednesday 21 is the posting window for this month's Portrait of Words writing challenge. After starring at the pictures for three weeks without any words finding their way onto paper, I was finally able to get out of the blocks and on the way.

    Thank you inspiration fairies for nudging me. I was afraid I'd come up completely blank this time.

    I've been doing some research to find a writing group in my area that I can get involved with. There's one called Willamette Writers that looks somewhat promising. My hope is to find some others to share stories and ideas with as well as constructive criticism. I would really like to take my humble little scribblings to another level.

    This world of blogging is great for friendships and positive comments, but I wonder how often people will hold back on giving advise for fear that they won't get return readership from the person. Perhaps a disclaimer on each piece of writing stating that constructive critiques are welcome would be appropriate. I don't know.

    Have any of you pondered how to approach this?

    Maybe some of you have come across other sites where this is practiced and has been of benefit. If so, please point me in that direction.

    I've also contemplated creating a separate blog just for the purpose of fiction writing. I could keep this one going for my silly-goofy side and have the other for developing and writing stories.

    Ahhhh, what to do, what to do.

    Input gladly accepted. . .

    Sunday, January 11, 2009


    If you haven't visited BJ Roan who writes on a blog she calls Serendipity, then I strongly encourage you to do so. When I say she is one darned talented writer, I'm just scratching the surface. When you have a chance go by and say hi, or better yet, sit a spell and take in a story or two.

    BJ participates in a writing group that posts from a common word or expression once a week. I thought I'd finally give it a go this time around. The link to that site is at the bottom of this post.

    Hope you enjoy.


    "Good grief, a dollar forty-nine a pound!" With a detectable amount of agitation in her voice, Karen continued, "I can't believe how much a weekly trip to the supermarket costs anymore."

    Even though the two women standing in front of the neatly displayed rows of organic vegetables had never met before, the second one knew Karen's words were intended for her ears. Obliging the invitation for a conversation, she offered up, "I know what you mean. It seems like everywhere you go these days the prices escalate faster than you can keep up with."

    Karen, sensing she had gained an instant ally, nodded in agreement. "I remember not too long ago being able to fill this entire shopping cart with groceries, then hand the checker a hundred dollars and expect to get change back. Now it only takes a couple of bags to get to that point!"

    The two ladies spent the next several minutes comparing notes on the prices of groceries, gasoline, trips to the orthodontist for their children's braces, and a host of other such household expenses. After exhausting their respective lists of immediate financial concerns, they decided it was time to get back to the task at hand, filling their carts with gold bouillon as they so eloquently described it.

    Before parting, Karen extended her hand and said, "My name's Karen by the way."

    The other woman shook her hand and replied, "Hello Karen By-the-way, nice to meet you. I'm Celia."

    This garnered a good chuckle from both of them, and helped to lighten the air a bit. It also gave Karen cause to say, "Celia, thank you for listening to me. I really hope I didn't come off as sounding like a complainer. I'm not typically one to harp on the negative side of stuff, but it's been a tough month with the bills at home, and I guess I just needed someone to let it out with."

    "Don't be silly," Celia quickly interjected. "I didn't get the impression that you were anything but a sweetheart from the get go, and I don't think there are many people out there that can't relate to having a rough stretch where money and bills are concerned. Lord knows my husband and I certainly endured enough of them when we were younger. Things eventually turned around for us, and they will for you too my dear, you'll see."

    Karen fought back a tear as Celia's comforting words touched her heart. "I'm sure somehow they will. thank you."

    The two women parted ways and went about their shopping, zig zagging up and back through the isles. They would occasionally pass by one another, and each time would exchange smiles or a pleasant comment. Eventually, they ended up at the far end of the store in front of the dairy case. Karen picked up two gallons of 2% reduced fat milk while Celia reached for a half gallon of organic whole milk.

    Karen looked at Celia and said, "With as much of this stuff as we go through around our place, this is just one area where I can't seem to justify the difference between organic and regular."

    Celia had too much passion to let this go with an easy 'I understand' type of response. "Karen, I'd like to be able to agree with you on this one, but I just can't. I've done too much research and read too many articles about the dangers of rbST hormones and other additives in dairy feed to make me choose anything else. I know you've already told me money is tight right now, but I'd really encourage you to do your homework before dismissing this purchase simply on the merits of cost."

    Karen got a somewhat guilty look on her face, but insisted, "I'm sure what you're saying is probably true, but I'm afraid today's purchase has to be about dollars and cents. I really am being conservative with what I'm buying these days. That means no extras or unnecessary items that aren't on my list. That also means that with the things I do get, I have to be very conscientious of the price."

    "I know dear, and I don't mean to preach. I just have very strong feelings on this particular issue." was Celia's response. "I've been pleading my case with the senior Mr Jacobs over the past several months to drop anything but organic dairy from the shelves, but so far it hasn't done any good."

    "The senior Mr Jacobs?" Karen asked.

    "Jacobs, as in Jacobson Market, where we're standing right now." explained Celia, "He's the founders son and current majority owner of the supermarket. His son Pat and Pat's wife have taken up much of the day to day operations of the business and will someday step in to take his place as the next owners. They seem to have some very progressive ideas about what to do with the store as well, but until then, the older Jacobs is the one who ultimately makes the decisions."

    Celia wrapped it up by continuing with, "Well, perhaps that's enough of my soapbox moment. I should probably let you get going."

    Karen looked Celia in the eyes and said, "Thank you for being so passionate about what you believe in. There aren't nearly enough people in the world who are willing to speak up for what they feel so strongly about, nor to do it in a way that is as easy to listen to as what you've just done. I do hope we'll bump into each other again here. It's been fun getting acquainted with you."

    "Oh, I'm sure we will Karen. I'm in here pretty regularly. Take care." Celia made her way to the front of the store while Karen picked up the last few items on her list.

    A few moments later Karen was standing at the check-out line herself. As she stood there waiting her turn, she saw her new found friend leaving through the front doors with a courtesy clerk in tow, pushing her cart of groceries out towards the parking lot. Another minute or two later and it was her turn. The checker began ringing up the groceries and Karen snickered a bit to herself as the register's display passed the one hundred dollar mark.

    She had estimated the total would be around a hundred and fifty dollars, but was pleasantly surprised when the final number came up at just under one-thirty. What happened next just about knocked Karen off her feet though. When she handed the checker her debit card, the young woman standing behind the counter just smiled and said, "I'm happy to say that that won't be necessary."

    "It what?" was all the astonished Karen could muster.

    Still smiling, the checker said, "Mrs Jacobs has graciously picked up your shopping today."

    At the same time she was saying this, another courtesy clerk had made his way to the check stand and placed two gallons of organic milk in her basket. The checker continued, "Oh, and she asked to be sure and give you these too."

    As soon as she gained her composure, Karen darted to the front of the store to thank the woman who she'd struck up a conversation with in the produce section only a half hour earlier. The courtesy clerk that had taken Mrs Jacobs. . .er Celia's groceries out was already heading back inside. Karen quickly asked, "Excuse me, where's the woman you just helped out?"

    "Oh, Mrs Jacobs?" he replied, pointing to a black Mercedes puling out of the parking lot "That's her leaving over there."

    Karen stood there and watched as her generous friend raised a hand through the sunroof and waved as she drove off.


    To find the Sunday Scribblings sight simply click on the name.

    Friday, January 9, 2009


    While driving around the other day I saw two vehicles along the road that caught my attention. The first was was one of those trucks with a large tank on the back used for sucking out the poop wells from work site porta-potties. (yuck!) The second was a hearse, and I think it's safe to say we all know what those are used for. Seeing these got me to thinking about possible slogans for their respective trades.

    For the porta-potty or septic maintenance companies:

    1) We go where you go
    2) First it was yours. . . now it's our doodie
    3) We don't mind taking crap from you
    4) Boldly going where others have gone before
    5) We love feces to pieces
    6) Let us carry the load
    7) Your business is our business
    8) We go with the flow
    9) We're #1 in the #2 business
    10) You have a full house. . . We have a royal flush

    As an added bonus, a theme song from Huey Lewis:

    ♫"We're takin' what you're givin' cause we're workin' for a livin' "♫

    And. . . for the funeral home companies:

    1) You're dying to get our services
    2) We dig you
    3) And you thought taxes were bad
    4) It would be a grave mistake to go somewhere else
    5) Two hands. . . six feet
    6) Our business is a dying art
    7) When you absolutely, positively have to get there overnight
    8) We're eternally grateful for your business
    9) Burying more than just the competition

    Feel free to share any suggestions you have in the comments.

    Monday, January 5, 2009

    Back In Session

    Let it be written, let it be known, January 6, 2009 will go down in history as one of the fantastic days in our history.

    Is the stock market making a full recovery? . . . No.

    Will Democrats and Republicans set aside their partisan differences and work together for the greater good? . . . Not bloody likely.

    Perhaps Christians, Jews, Muslims, et al., are going to live in peace with acceptance of each others beliefs or lack there of? . . . Ya, I didn't think so either.

    No, this glorious event on the calendar marks the return of the school year! HALLELUJAH!!!

    With the two week Christmas break and a few more days off because of the snow, the boys have been home for three straight weeks now. Due to the weather, a reasonable amount of that time has been indoors too.

    I can honestly say I now know why some animals eat their young!

    Okay, anyone who's been around here for a while knows how much I love my boys, so don't panic, they're both still alive and well, and God willing will continue to be so for many years to come, provided of course, a freak snow storm doesn't blow in overnight creating yet another school-free-day. Should that happen, then all bets are off and the feast will begin!

    If you're a stay at home mom (or father) my hat's off to you. If you're a single parent and have managed to keep your sanity, you deserve a medal. If you have made the choice to home school your children so you can be with them every waking moment of your life, I have just one question for you. What the hell were you thinking?

    I am thoroughly convinced that schools were not created merely for the education of our children, they were put in place to keep the homicide rates down!

    ♫"They've come to take me away, he he, who who, ha ha. . . "♫