Letter of Intent

Dear Mr. Daddy ~

 

Relaxing shower for your dear wifey

+

you amusing yourself with your hunting gear

=

you deserve every single ear-splitting shriek and every gallon of water flung at you by your terrified better half.

 

Yours Truly,

Your Loving Wife who is plotting her revenge

 

ps:  in case some of your bloggy supporters are apt to think me harsh, I offer the below evidence to establish the sheer effort that went into terrorizing an innocent sudsy spouse…

 

 

~

Now head on over to Julie at Foursons for more Letters of Intent.  Tell her I sent ya, I get bonus points for it :)

Letter of Intent

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/letter-of-intent.html

Thank You Very Much

Ahh, free therapy time - courtesy of KMama and The Daily Dribbles! Head on over and get your fill of things we're grateful for this week!

To the lovely flu bug that decided to take up residence in our household for the SECOND time this young winter... Thank You Very Much. I truly enjoyed spending two nights without sleep and without any apparent control over my body temperature. For all the achy joints and nausea, Thank You Very Much.

~

And to the nasty head cold bug that ALSO found its way back here... Thank You Very Much for the snot factory that overtaken my son and prompted him to begin wiping his mess on any and all articles of my clothing. Thanks as well for the chapped lips right before picture day. And for timing your arrival along with my flu bug... Thank You Very Stinkin Much.

~

To the Thomas The Tank Engine millionaires... you guys realize the little train is like 70 years old, right? So stick with your 1400 episodes from the past several decades, instead of adding new characters every week. New characters that my son just begs Mommy to get on the computer and buy for him. While I am tripping over the "old" characters as I put him to bed. Yeah, Thank You Very Much.

~

To the health insurance policies that punish employees for being married, Thank You Very Much.  And the new $250 annual deductible increase was a lovely touch.

~

It’s a heckuva week already – this has been great therapy!

Thank You Very Much

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/thank-you-very-much_18.html

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Can I just say True Story Tuesdays are another reason I’m glad to have made it through Mondays? :)  Y’all know what time it is… time to link up your crazy, hilarious, outrageous, miraculous, amazing and (mostly) true stories!  It can be old or brand new – just grab the code from the sidebar and enter your post.  We’ll be glad to send some linky love your way!

 

~

I Fought the Law and the… (Oh wait, I am the law) 

I’ve worked in law enforcement for all of my adult life.

Literally.

And I ain’t gonna tell ya how many years that’s been, cuz you’d be rubbing  my age in my face.

 

Let’s just say that I’m pretty much your average law-abiding citizen and that it runs in the family.

 

(For reals… we have something like 11 family members in various agencies.  And I’m kinda the "little-sister-mascot” of our section.  Try having 30 big brothers teasing you for 13 years.  Oh dang, I said I wasn’t gonna give that up.  Grr)

 

So I’m not typically a law-breaker.

 

Until one fateful night…

 

I was young and dumb and had found a new form of entertainment.

With some other juvenile delinquent friends, I’d discovered the joys of laser pointers.

 

No biggie, right?

 

Except that the three of us are hanging out trying to figure out just exactly how far this laser pointer can, ummm… point?

 

By way of explanation, the two accomplices were both guys – both members of the male species who still found bodily functions absolutely hilarious.  Just so you can get an overall taste of the atmosphere.

 

I’m not sure which idiot said, “Hey look!  You can see the laser all the way across the street!”  And I’m not gonna confirm which idiot may or may not have said, “Whoa look!  You can see it on the inside wall of the apartment a block away!”

 

See, you’d never think that someone would totally freak out about a random laser point appearing on their wall, right?  Especially if it was drawing circles around your clock and spelling out stuff like “R-A-C-H” – oh I mean “H-I”.

 

Absolutely clueless why someone would flip and feel the need to call the police.

 

And let’s just say that the police in our joys-of-living-in-the-city area were (ahem) mighty quick to respond.

 

But if that had happened, I mean, hypothetically and all, you can bet that it would have been purely coincidental that all of the lights in our house suddenly were turned off, the blinds were closed, and all occupants simultaneously found themselves behind large furniture.  It was just a well timed “Quiet Game”, right?

 

Until the front room lit up like the Fourth of July – red and blue lights flashing from a happenstance nearby police cruiser.

 

Which kinda sorta happened to be parked directly in front of the house.

 

 

OH.GOOD.LORD.

 

Did we do something illegal?

Shhh!

Quiet!

Hold still.

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

Oh my gosh!

They’re knocking on the door!

What do we do?

Just be quiet!

Stay down!

Shhhh!

 

Flashlight beams poked through the living room, swinging around and outlining the furniture.

 

SHHHH!

 

It seemed like a good eleventy hundred seconds before the pounding subsided.  By then our ears were ringing and we were blue in the face from holding our breath.  We were too scared to move.

 

We crouched behind the furniture for a good 5 minutes longer, then the non-male idiot ventured from behind the rocking chair to peek through the blinds at the cruiser slowly pulling away.

 

Never before and never since have I been party to criminals eluding apprehension…

 

~

 

And it was infinitely funnier when shortly afterward, my mother-in-law forgot the alarm combination (1-2-3-4… yep, she forgot it), and the police responded.

 

To a completely dark and locked house where she crouched cowering behind the furniture.

 

Ironic, no?

 

~

 

So what are your True Story Tuesday tales?  Do share!  We’d love to come by and add some comment love!

 

 

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/true-story-tuesday-by-rachel_16.html

Not Me Monday

Loving the fact that Stellan is healed and at home and MckMama is back to their weekly Not Me’s!

 

I gotta be honest, this week’s Star of the Show is none other than Itty Bit… and his little mouth.

 

(insert gratuitous picture of Itty Bit and his “I’m so stinking cute face)

 

I love that I can actually have conversations with the little man now… but the following dialogue  did not confuse this mama.  Nope, Not Me.

 

Mommy:  Yay!  We’re going to get some ice cream!  Do you want vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry.

Itty Bit:  Black.

Mommy:  Black?

Itty Bit:  Yeah.

Mommy:  What does black ice cream taste like?

Itty Bit:  Ummm.  Ummmm.  Ummm.  Ice cream!

 

Mommy:  Oh really?  Are you being a silly goose?

Itty Bit: No!

Mommy:  Are you being a funny duck?

Itty Bit: No!

Mommy:  Then what are you?

Itty Bit:  I’m THREE!

 

Mommy:  Oh (smacks forehead)

 

Itty Bit (blowing raspberries)

 

~

 

That same kid did not walk up as I was pulling up the “People of Walmart” website to show Mr. Daddy… He absolutely did not take one look and then say, “Biiiig Mommy!”

 

Hey kid, that is NOT ME!

~

 

I did not catch this kid licking the whipped cream off of several cupcakes, then putting them back.

 

Nor did I chide him for punching holes in the tops by digging with the candles.

 

He wouldn’t have turned around and logically said, “ But I’m making windows Mommy!”

 

~

 

I do not have the coolest grandma on the planet.  While celebrating her 79th birthday, I did not catch her in these most groovy pants :)  Grandma, you rock.

 

~

 

It is Not Me who is absolutely terrified to post a comment on Mr. Daddy’s last post.  I am giggling madly about his creativity and about the comments, but what on earth does a deaf person have to bring to that conversation???

 

~

 

And last but certainly not least… back to the star of our show:

 

My boys have not spent the last few weeks making sure that the DEAF person in the household is completely aware of every bodily issuance.

 

Yes my friends, Not My Husband who taught Itty Bitty how insanely funny it is to create scented disturbances – and funnier yet if you take great care to inform everyone.

 

As my boys were sitting on the hearth (bricks apparently amplify the effect?), Itty Bit did not let a manly one rip.

 

As Mr. Daddy did not look at him in profound admiration, Itty Bit most certainly didn’t look up at him, point, and say, “PULL MY FINGER!”

 

So proud of you boys…

 

~

 

What have you NOT been up to?  Join along, and don’t forget to link up tomorrow for True Story Tuesday!

Not Me Monday

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/not-me-monday_16.html

Rights or privileges? by Mr. Daddy

This seems to be a question that just begs to be asked, and answered honestly...

Spandex, in my humble opinion should be a privilege not a right...

The right to swing my fist is a privilege that should stop somewhere just short of your nose....

My right to free speech is a privilege that I should never use abuse to embarrass or humiliate anyone....

And my unalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, should always be considered a privilege of living in this great country that we call America....

Now with that being said, it is with the greatest relief that news article that I am about to share, originated in the United Kingdom. And with all the conflict that we have in our own nation about rights and privileges; I am so glad that this quandary is theirs to ponder, because the good Lord only knows how badly we would muck it up in our courts.......

AND THE HEADLINE SAYS:

The right to have loud s*x

A British court says Caroline Cartwright can't scream during s*x because she scares the neighbors. Is noisy s*x a right, or a privilege?

(Thanks for waiting I had to clean my puter screen, I spewed coffee all over it when I read this headline....)

The article continues to on to say:A British court refused to overturn the conviction of a woman banned from screaming during s*x because she violated a noise ordinance. Caroline Cartwright, 48, said the authorities were denying her and her husband, Steve, their right to privacy. The judge said the noises — which an investigator said sounded like someone being "murdered" — were "very disturbing" to neighbors and people in the street, and the offense was compounded by "the frequency of the episode." Do human beings have an inalienable right to loud s*x?

When I finally could breathe again, and see out of my tear filled eyes, I began to wonder: Is this a real story? Could we have possibly gone this far as a society? Then I remembered this is Great Britain we are talking about. And I heaved a big sigh of relief realizing that it is their problem...

As if we don't have enough problems clogging our court system without this...LOL

The next paragraph must be the prosecution: The Cartwrights should be quiet: "Caroline lost the right to respect for her private life when she broadcasted it for the entire neighborhood to hear," says Jennifer Meyer in S*xification. Making noise in the throes of passion is all well and good, but the screams from Steve and Caroline Cartwright's bedroom drown out the neighbors' TVs and shock passersby walking kids to school. If the Cartwrights can't control themselves, they should "invest in some soundproofing material."
"911, What’s Your O-mergency?"

While the next must be the defense: The noise wasn't ear-splitting: Give Steve and Caroline Cartwright a break, says Craig Brown in Britain's Daily Mail. Investigators recorded noise levels outside the Cartwrights' home of 30 to 40 decibels, with a maximum of 47 decibels. Thirty decibels is a "very quiet library," and 50 is as loud as a living room conversation. "If ever Mrs. Cartwright began to blast off like a power drill, there might be cause for complaint," but l*vemaking that's quiet enough for a library is "extremely subdued" indeed.
"Silence in court! This case is a real scream..."

The last must be a summary but there are so many questions racing around in my little mind now that I cannot contain the laughter.

Yes I know Pam D. my mind is to little to left alone to wander around like this, so I got Rach's attention....(it does no good to holler for a deaf person) So I got up and found her and said, YOU JUST GOTTA READ THIS...

This is the last paragraph: Loud s*x is a basic human right: This case is an Orwellian nightmare of government intrusion, says Brendan O'Neill in Reason. It's bad enough that the U.K. has 5 million closed-circuit TV cameras that "watch our every move," and talking cameras that "warn us to pick up litter or stop loitering." Now "even the decibels of our s*xual moaning can become the subject of a police investigation." Laugh at this case if you must — but the Cartwrights "are scr*wing for liberty."
"Disturbing the peace"

Laugh at this: I did, and I don't know if what they were doing was for Liberty, or it be better classified as the pursuit of happiness, I'm just glad that it is up to the courts of the UK to decide...

I can't even imagine how much this would cost the taxpayers of America...

Two council officials - environmental health managers, no less - popped round to the houses on both sides of the Cartwrights', clipboards at the ready. One official, Marion Dixon, reported to the court: 'I heard a male voice howling loudly, which I felt was very unnerving.'

Her colleague, the happily named Pamela Spark, found Mrs Cartwright even noisier than Mr Cartwright. She reported ' hysterical, almost continuous, screaming,' adding: 'It sounded like she was being murdered.'

But wait it gets better: Apparently, 'specialist equipment' installed by the council in her neighbor's flat recorded noise levels of between 30 to 40 decibels, with a high of 47 decibels.

You would have to reach 70 decibels before you were as loud as a vacuum cleaner, 80 before you were as loud as the dial tone on a telephone, and 90 before you were as loud as a power drill.

~

Ok. I'm back......

My sides were hurting and I couldn't see to type anymore....

Do they print the Enquirer on the internet??? Did I stumble on to some reality site???? Can this happen in real life??? Is Truth, truly stranger than fiction??? Could this actually be, being tried in the UK as I write????

I have not the answers to these questions, and after all this I am still not sure were I stand on the right or privilege issues of this particular situation....and my little mind is doing flip flops of glee with the ups and downs of this case....*snicker*

But as one writer put it: It would have been fascinating to observe the judge and two magistrates as they furrowed their brows, sucked on their pencils and listened to their recording of the cacophonous Cartwrights.

Now would not be the time for the Clerk of the Court to pipe up: 'A penny for your thoughts.' But was ten minutes quite enough? If each s*x session lasted three hours, and there were five in all, then that makes 15 hours: a ten minute 'Greatest Hits' medley would surely not do them justice, however beautifully edited.

Alas, Mrs Cartwright maintains that the stress of the complaints made her turn to drink and then to anti-depressants - less Tyne and Wear than Wine and Tears - but they have done little to lower her volume.

'After I got the noise abatement notice, I tried to control it. I even tried to use a pillow to try to lessen the noise. I wasn't enjoying it so I started to cry and my husband said: "If you want to make a noise, make a noise." '

So it's all go in Tyne and Wear. If I were the postman, I'd try whistling very loudly. But that still leaves the poor neighbors. Might some sort of cladding do the trick.

I am gasping and wheezing as I type, and I am still finding links to other articles on this case that make it more and more funny...

So in stating all this I will leave it in your capable hands to decide: Right Or Privilege????

Rights or privileges? by Mr. Daddy

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/rights-or-privileges-by-mr-daddy.html

Letters of Intent

Is it today already?

I’m a wee bit behind.  It was a sick day for yours truly, and it might have something to do with the following letter that desperately needs to be brought to the attention of the appropriate authorities…

~

Dear Workout Video Lady ~

I don’t know your name.  But I imagine it to be Bambi or Becki or some other perky name.

You have been kicking my butt this week and I don’t think it’s very fair.  What did I ever do to you?

I’m gonna overlook the fact that a full 99% of all exercise videos are guaranteed to be inaccessible to deaf users.  But what I can lipread of your bouncing and completely sweat-free face pretty much ensures me that the words are probably just gonna tick me off anyway.

I mean, who wants to hear “Okay, now we’re gonna kick it up a notch and I want you to give 100 percent!  Come on, you can do it!”  Fine and dandy, except my quads/calves/abs/butt are most confidently yelling back, “NO WE CAN’T!”

And why is is that any video I choose… y’all have had some (ahem) work done?  Cuz yeah, your waist is gonna look smaller underneath those things e.v.e.r.y  time.

Next, the moves… Oh.Good.Lord.  Fair warning to those of you who try “10 Minute Power Abs”… I got about halfway through before I couldn’t take any more of moves that were embarrassing ME.  Cuz if that’s what it’s gonna take to get a tiny defined waist, then Mr. Daddy is gonna be reeeally into this workout.

The less obscene moves, I’m gonna admit that I have stopped and stared blankly at you several times as you cheerfully did something that flat-out tied my brain in knots.  I mean, you looked like you were beating up some unseen person while your body was taken over by some disco hip-hop dancer.

I know you’re convenient and all, cuz you come to my house at any hour – but I’m of half a mind to exchange our personal trainer sessions for the public humiliation of grande battement…

Signed,

The Chick Who’s Tired of Kickboxing Kicking Her Butt

(In all fairness, I’ve done four videos in one week in complete denial of my injured back, but Ms. Perky doesn’t have to rub it in my out-of-shape face, no?)

~

Join Julie from Foursons for more Letters of Intent!  If you head over there, be sure to tell her I sent you.  Cuz she keeps some kind of point system for all kinds of bloggy acts (and I’m a bit afraid to get on her bad side ;)

Letters of Intent

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/letters-of-intent_13.html

Thank You Very Much

Time for a bit of gratefulness, courtesy of KMama’s weekly Thank You Very Much.  It’s a fun way to get that bit of aggravation out – better than egging someone’s car or knocking their garbage can over.  And probably less jail time too…

 

To the woman behind the Lancome counter – yes I’ve tried what you were trying to sell me.  I let you give me the spiel for 30 seconds, then told you that the ridiculously expensive lipstick lasts all of four minutes before needing to be reapplied.  You actually had the nerve to tell me that it was the long-lasting stuff and I was wrong.

When I again told you that I was constantly reapplying it, you ended your sales pitch with “you must lick your lips a lot”.  Yeeeeeah… Not buying it (literally).  Thank You Very Much.

~

To Gymboree.  Yes your stuff is unbelievably cute. 

You do realize we’re in a recession, right?  Thank You Very Much.

(ps – I heart your little boy clothes.  Feel free to send me a gift card to make up for my public blog drooling :)

~

To the big truck that kicked up the rock that smashed my foglight, Thank You Very Much.

Actually – it was pretty darn funny to see Mr. Daddy duck and then look all over the windshield for the crack he’d heard…  expensive entertainment, no?

~

To the kid who has refused to eat anything without peanutbutter lately and the Daddy who is enabling his habit… Thank You Very Much.

~

To the online shoe store that decided to cancel the 15% off code that was issued three hours earlier – Thank You Very Much.

I appreciate that you did that AFTER I put an order in for shoes that I can’t find anywhere else.

(Though to be fair, I whined about it and they “found” another 15% off code once I said to cancel it if they weren’t going to honor 3-hour old offers :)

~

To the husband who is protesting an upcoming family photo session… Moms trump Dads on this issue, Thank You Very Much.  If they didn’t, the only proof grown children would have of their family time would consist of photos of daddy with a dead deer.

Just wear what I put out for ya, show up, smile, and consider it my Christmas present, k?

(I promise only to post the flattering ones of Mr. Rockin Hottie Magnum Daddy!  And wait till you hear who is taking them! :)

~

Alrighty – that’s enough gratefulness for one day… head on over to KMama’s for some good readin!

Thank You Very Much

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/thank-you-very-much_12.html

If you find a Guamanian, buy them lunch

Dear Itty Bit -

The title probably doesn’t make much sense yet.  But I hope you’ll understand more of what makes my heart ache and what makes it proud, by the end of this letter.

See… you’re missing someone important in your life.  Someone you would have adored as much as I did.

Son, your great-granddaddy was a United States Marine.

A hero in the truest sense.

A man who traded carefree days for ones where he watched barely-grown men like himself lose their lives on the sands of Iwo Jima.

A man who had to wonder why he was spared and 26,000 others were not.

I can only imagine what he felt as he watched the first flag rise on Mount Suribachi.  Perhaps the familiar red white and blue gave him a sense of home on that tiny forsaken island.  Maybe it was relief.  Though a homecoming was not soon.

Son, he went on to fight in some of the bloodiest campaigns of the Solomon Islands.  Surely God had a hand in sparing his life.

It is amazing to me to think that you and I would not exist had he lost his life so far from home.

He didn’t lose it, but he certainly gave it.  Like many men and women who give of their blood sweat and tears each day to make this a safer place for you to grow up in.  Protecting lives of little children your age – halfway across the world.  Giving them a chance to become parents and grandfathers themselves.

After all that, Itty Bit – he was weary of fighting.  Yet he had another mission.

 

He was there, kiddo.  On the beaches of Guam.

Where another 7000+ men were killed or wounded.

And where he walked the streets of cheering Guamanians and looked into the eyes of children that now had a future.

He never forgot.  Their simple gratitude left a profound impact.

He returned home a changed man.  He met and married his fiery red-headed sweetheart.  Well, that man had himself an even set of sons and daughters.

Sweet boy, this is how I would have imagined you with your Great-Grandpa too.  You would have loved his stories.

A bigger-than-life man who had lived the headlines that most had only read in newspapers.  And witnessed things that could never be captured in printed words.  A man with a soft spot for little kids.  And an amazing whistle that could knock your socks off.

And those Guamanians?  If he ever met one on the street, he’d promptly offer to take them to lunch.  Their gratitude had earned his.  Funny thing, no?

So pay it forward, kid.  Don’t be afraid to stand up for the right.  Don’t let anyone tell you the odds are impossible.  ‘Cause you are the third generation living proof that God has a reason for every single life.

Thank those in uniform every chance you get.

And Good Wins, honey.  Never forget:  GOOD WINS.

If you find a Guamanian, buy them lunch

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/if-you-find-guamanian-buy-them-lunch.html

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

Hey y'all - time for True Story Tuesday! The perfect place to link up those amazing, outrageous, miraculous, hilarious and (mostly) true stories of your own! We all love some linkies and new friends, right? So grab the button from the sidebar and add your post - we'll send some comment love your way!

Barnyard Business

If I have never mentioned that I grew up on a farm, let me tell you that I did.... Mostly.

My Grandparents and Great-Grandparents had a bit of acreage that was mostly farm.
In the beginning it was a strawberry farm (great-grandparents); then when Gramps and Granny got married they were deeded 60 acres and it became cows. They had a few milk cows and some beef and pigs and rabbits, chickens and horses. I don't recall any goats or sheep, but that's neither here nor there for this story....

(Rach in: Honey, we just had this whole conversation about that "that's neither here nor there" comment and how it's so popular and doesn't really make any sense. Yeah - figured you'd throw that in a post first chance ya got :)

My uncle was 10 years older than me, and just about my most favorite person on earth... (yeah, I was the annoying little shadow) and I think that I have mentioned in previous posts how my Gramps and Granny collected all sorts of boarders and people with a need for a place to lay their head...

I think it was my uncle's senior year of high school, and there was a guy that needed a place to stay. Now Ole J.D. (names have been change to protect the guilty) was just about as awestruck by my Unc as I was. Which is short for saying Unc could talk him into just about anything...

And my Unc had a pretty good imagination for the possible....

They where both pretty big into 4-H. My Unc raised and showed pigs and beef. Well, back in the day before every thing became PC (Politically Correct), they taught real life things in 4-H...

When it came time for the topic of herd control (that being artificial insemination and castration), of course the boys were all ears. Now me being 10 years their junior, I was not privy to any classroom enlightenment, but the barnyard tactics were an open and shut case baby...

The intent of this story, however; is not really about either of those topics, but rather how a misused TMS (Tool of Mass Sterilization) can be grossly misused with dire consequences...

(Rach in: I have never heard this story and I am wincing already.)

The 4-H teacher bought a pair of burdizzos - a plier-like implement that cuts the cord from the seminal vesicle to the testicle. It will actually cut a hair folded inside an old zippo paper and not cut the paper (zippo paper is an old roll-your-own-cigarette paper, the hair could just be off your head...*snicker*)

The advantage being it is non invasive. So little chance for infection or bleeding to death from a wrong cut or slip of the knife.

(Rach in: I am still wincing. Is this gonna be a painful one? Guys, I am reading this for the first time).

Well my favorite Unc talked the teacher into letting him bring this medical marvel of non-invasive castration home!!!! Yeah I know... What was he thinking????


There was always something that needed attention in the population control arena, and the weekend that Unc brought the TMS home was no exception....

Now there is not a doubt in my mind that there is a God and He loves me dearly, because that just happened to be one of the weekends that I was scheduled to spend at Grampa's and Granny's (to hang with the big boys).

(Rach in: Yes hon, He knew this would be marvelous True Story Tuesday fodder).

If you have done the math already and my Unc was a senior, that would put me around seven or eight. And yes I was a student of enlightenment in animal husbandry...

(Rach in: Help me out there... I thought "husbandry" was figuring out how to make MORE baby animals, not prevent them? Though I'm not sure the story would be helped either way ;)

Saturday dawned bright, with endless opportunities of practicing said animal husbandry, and practice we did....

We never did figure out how to make them work on a chicken or rabbit...(go figure) but the calves, piglets, and young colts in the fields trembled at the sight of the three of us sneaking around holding a chrome plated pair of pliers with a funny end on them...

(Rach in: I'm sorry, you lost me in hysterical laughter at the thought of you trying to castrate the fowl).

We even figured out how to use them on the cats.....

And therein lies the meat of the story... As I have stated, my uncle was really keen on seeing the possibilities... And as there was pretty much not a non-neutered male anything left on the farm, he quickly saw the possibility of having a whole bunch of bob tailed cats on the farm...

Well having already traumatized just about anything that had a pair and moved, with the TMS's and it being fairly late in the afternoon, it was milking time. We let the cows in the barn and started to milk.

This being the typical farm, Gramps had a couple of old hub caps in the barn that he always poured some milk into for the cats. We had let the cows out and were putting the milk into the milk cans, when my Unc had an epoch of clarity, did I mention that he could talk J.D. into just about anything???

(Rach in: You just love that "epoch of clarity" thing, don't ya hon? Somehow that sounds like a really nice way to describe how he came up with what is bound to result in redneck legend).

The cats where all gathered around the dishes lapping up milk (well the ones that could walk and were brave enough to show themselves anyway)

Unc says to J. D., "I bet that those TMS's would do a fine job of bobbing off the tail of a cat, and seeings as how we have pretty much exhausted our supply of objects in need of said tool, it's up to us to implement new uses of said tool....(might even qualify for extra credit)"

Yep you guessed it, J. D. took the bait like a pro athlete after a syringe of steroids.

I can see the stalk in my mind even now, as Unc and I hid in the stalls.. the cats blissfully lapping away as J.D. quietly sneaks up and slides the burdizzos over the tail of the target...

Did I mention that J.D. wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed??? and had a profound stutter????
Yep he had to pick the biggest meanest old tom on the farm...

Those burdizzos performed flawlessly, they cut through the bone and cartilege like it was butter...

(Rach in: Oh.Good.Lord)

But the skin was just a little tougher than zippo paper, I am here to tell you...

You ever hear the song, I think that Buck Owens sang it... "I've got a tiger by the tail???"

If memory serves correctly, the burdizzos lock over quite similar to vise grips...

I had no idea that cats could get diarrhea!!!! Nor did I think that they could throw cow crap with all four feet for about a barn length... But I guess if you think about it and they are anchored fairly well on the south bound end while fighting desperately for traction while heading north, it is quite feasible to think that...

Did I mention the stutter??? And that was in calm moments!! I'm not even sure how to type the verbal issuance of the next few moments. Now the intent is not to make fun of Old J.D. I love him dearly to this day... But to see him hanging on to that gyrating, crap flinging old tom cat, yelling for help...

Bu Ba baa baa baaa baa Bbaaaa Bud!!!!!!! He He HEl He Hellp!!!!

It was just to much for Unc and I to take... we were slapping each other on the back, rolling around on the floor trying to catch our breath... (not a possibility of help from either of us).

So old J.D. one hands the burdizzos and fishes out his pocket knife....only in his excitement he folds out his scaling blade, and is trying to saw off the tail skin like he is scaling a carp or something. As it turns out not a very efficient means of skinning a cat, which only heightened the hilarity of the whole situation. Not that the cat thought it was humorous at all I'm sure...

(Rach in: And I didn't think it could get any worse. I am seriously about to yell at you for something you laughed about 100 years ago).

And I have a sneaking suspicion that ole J.D. covered in cat scat and cow poop was having a hard time appreciating the heightened sense of hilarity that my Unc and I were sharing, and cared not a whit for the extra credit that awaited him the next Monday in 4-H class...

The proper blade was finally located, the skin properly severed. And do you know what?? After that old cat finally reappeared after a several day hiatus, he was the best looking bobtailed cat on the farm.... And after ole J.D. got washed up right proper like he wasn't half bad himself.

And remember folks, in the words of the esteemed Red Green: " if the women don't find you handsome, they should at least find you handy"

~

There ya have it. True Story Tuesday from the farm. Join up your old or new post and share your stories!

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/true-story-tuesday-by-mr-daddy.html

Not Me Monday

Please go here to see the latest on Baby Stellan – praying for healing for his little heart and wisdom for his parents and doctors.  Praying for a miraculous outcome.

I’m playing along this week – would be a nice break from not-so-great news, right?

 

After Mr. Daddy did a little victory boogie during and after a certain impressive musical performance, it was Not Me who proclaimed, “It is NOT a dance move to pass gas”.

~

And along those lines (living in a house of boys tends to mean crossing that line often)… it was Not Me who was completely confused over my boys laughing uproariously from different rooms in the house.

Apparently it was a three-part act:  Mr. Daddy’s scented musical performance in the living room, followed by Itty Bit giggling loudly in the family room after hearing it, and concluding with Mr. Daddy doubled over realizing what Itty Bit had found so funny.  BOYS.

~

And the littlest boy seems to have a bit of trouble with LEMON lately.  It was Not Me who tried in vain repeatedly to correct his enthusiastic, “I DRINK DADDY’S LEMONAPE!”

“Oh, you’re drinking Daddy’s lemonADE?”

“Nope, lemonAPE”.

Not Me who totally missed the irony of a deaf person trying to teach pronunciation.

And of course, he wouldn’t stubbornly call those seedless things “waterLEMONS” now, would he?

~

And it wouldn’t be ridiculously poetic timing that my sister just busted up after I committed a rather laughable spoonerism…

How did “tickled pink” come out “pickled tink”???

~

Speaking of Itty Bit and edibles… Not My Child who was outside with a cookie, picked up a leaf, got distracted, then took a bite out of the leaf.

Nope…

~

And it’s Not My Husband who soooo totally gets me.  Bringing me lunch one day, Not Me who opened the bag to realize that he’d gotten me my requested super-healthy-grilled-chicken-salad, with fries on the side.

Yeah baby.

~

I just am out of my element being in a store without a flying toddler.  (Cuz last time it certainly was NOT ME at the department store who had my kid stand on my SHOULDERS to retrieve an errant balloon).  It was Not Me who bumped into someone, then turned to realize I’d just loudly said, “Oh!  Excuse me!” to a mannequin.

~

Like I said… shopping by myself is still eventful.  Not Me who found myself in a terrible quandary when an elderly woman walked past me in the store… with a fully unrolled sanitary napkin stuck to the outside of her purse… swinging with every step.

Not Me who actually took two steps forward, two steps back, two steps forward, then finally decided my embarrassment at telling her would save her from further embarrassment.

I mean, what do you do?!?

~

Alrighty – that was totally too many Not Me’s!  Here’s to a normal week for once!

~

Come back tomorrow for Mr. Daddy’s True Story Tuesday!

Not Me Monday

http://www.onceuponamiracle.com/2009/11/not-me-monday_08.html