Snow day

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle DON'T

No snow boots for sale in all of Tulsa.

...and DO notice the plant that I'm trying to kill.

My Brother-in-law

"Listen. I got 3 sacks o' butt whoopins in the car for ya. ....Now, will that be paper or plastic?" 
                                         -Phil


Gotta love Brother-in-laws! :0)

Trickster

Some people are gullible. Most of my close friends are not. That's why it's especially nice when I can jump on an unusually weak moment. One such moment magically appeared when I was a Freshman in High School. Kimberly, a new girl and instant friend, joined me for lunch at the local Corner Drug Store one sunny afternoon in October. *** Lunch at the Corner Drug was a daily fiasco. If you could race out of the school parking lot before all of the other lunch goers, you might stand a chance. If not, you were doomed to bad traffic and long lunch lines. If you were able to get out of class just 5 minutes early, it was the highlight of your day. 5 minutes is like 2 HOURS to a 14-year old kid.  hmmm....Just realized that I couldn't have been driving, so we must have bummed a ride from some unconventionally compassionate upperclassman. We would all cram into a car like freaky little adolescent circus clowns.***

Awesome. So, back to my original story.....

Kim and I happened to be lucky enough to be sitting on a couple of stools at the Drug Store counter DURING lunch that day. Legions of teenagers stood behind us, money in hand, drooling at the sight of the microwaved frozen burritos with warmed-up-in-a-crockpot cheese on top. Still, we were waiting  for our nachos drowned in canned cheese and disgustingly sweet vanilla Cokes on the side.

Now, I had been a patron of the Corner Drug for years and knew the rules of the women behind the counter. Being a percussionist, I was constantly tapping on things with my hands, feet, elbows, or with anything IN my hands, feet and elbows. From personal experience I knew that Barbara-behind-the-counter detested, no...hated, no....... LOATHED, the sound of money being tapped on the counter by snot-nosed pimple-faced brats.  Kim...... hadn't a clue. So I, being the good friend that I was, informed her that she would INDEED receive FASTER service if she would only ratty-tap-TAP her coins on the counter............and so...... she did just that. I, with a smirk and a twinkle in my eye, watched Miss Barbara with fantastic anticipation........and I was not disappointed. Miss Barbara spun around, cheese ladle in hand, dripping over the crunchy-crum chip-filled paper boat, with BLOOD-RED eyes and fire SPEWING from her nostrils. Teenagers scattered and ducked across the room in fear! Barbara then lifted her free hand and pointed her long, jagged claw in Kim's direction. Her words seethed from her mouth in a low, spine tingling growl.... "DOOOOON'T EEEEEVERRRRR TAAAP YOUUURRRR MOOONIEEESSSSSSsssss ON THE COUNTERRRRRRSSSSssssss...Lest I SCRATCH out your VERY eyes and SNAP every miniscule bone in your pubescent human BODYYYYYYY.....(extremely heavy breathing here)... HHHHUUUUH---HEEEEEE---HUUUUUH--HEEEEE---HUUUHHH ......It's .........RUUUUUUDDDEEEE!..................................and with that, my new friend, Kim, learned a valuable life-long lesson or two that day.....................
  
      #1. Don't ever tap your monies on the counter, lest Barbara rings your neck.
      #2. Question everything Missy tells you.

....and I, of course, laughed for the rest of the afternoon. It was well worth it.

**In loving memory of Kimbo  :0)   1974-2006**

'66 Chevy

    

 I was remembering my dad's old '66 Chevy pickup truck today, similar to this dude rightch he-yah, and the noise it used to make when the granny gears were pushed too hard....like a squealing pig, almost. My dad had placed a small block race engine in the old bugger.... Ironically, it had 4 gears.... Slowest, slow, LOUD....and reverse. Yep, it's all comin' back to me now.... the clang, clang, clang of the chains on the tailgate (caused by the constant bounce). It obviously needed shocks.

    I learned to drive in this beaut. My fellow 12-yr-old "patnuh" (the cowboy kind, not the politically correct kind) and I drove this baby all over the pasture across from my house.  The clutch dropped about 3 feet before it hit the floor. The ol' girl  had 2 colors: white..... and rust....hence the name, "Whitey."  Her bed was a stepside for anyone wanting to be run-over DEAD in an accident. Her steering wheel was surely 12 FEET in diameter. Her seats, black and ripped. Her radio...well, my dad had to have a good radio/stereo in each of his autos, so yeah, it was kickbutt. I  drove this baby to school here and there when everything else was on blocks in our yard. She was as bad as I was about getting up in the mornings. We were consistently late for 7:30 am band practice....but, everyone knew when we had arrived. She made sure of that.  Whitey was also built WITHOUT power steering....when people drove their cars to get a good workout. She ate weak-armed pansies for LUNCH (only because she didn't get up early enough to eat breakfast). She had a heater too, but preferred the cab chilly. She was STONE COLD....hard core.


    I wonder where this old truck is now.....hmmm...probably in "truck heaven." (tear)......Let's all have a moment of silence for Whitey. (moment) Pictures will be posted in her honor at a later date.

Eyes

This is my oldest feeding my youngest. Aren't they handsome! But Kid #1 has a handicap. He cannot keep his eyes OPEN for the camera. This thoroughly irritates my husband....the photog behind the camera.

They don't make parking permits for this problem. I think they should reconsider.

This pains me..

and...

SUCCESS!

Wait,

there's more...

completely shut

effort...

Oh lord....