Fishing Today

We are fishing today on my brother’s farm, the farm where I grew up.  It is pleasant, shady, and peaceful.  When I was a kid, only Sundays were restful.  If you didn’t grow up on a farm, you’d have no way of knowing all the work that goes into to making a farm look so idyllic.  In the center back the red-roofed barn is prominent.  A barn is a wonderland for children.  When we were little, the weather was never too bad to play for us to be out.  Rain and cold didn’t matter as we scurried to the barn in our coats or rain gear.  We were free to climb on the hay as long as we didn’t tear up the bales, our stairsteps to the rafters.  The cats and dogs were always happy to join us.  My younger sisters even set a bed up over the grain and had camp outs there.  I don’t know why we never thought of that.

My brother stocked this pond with catfish.  I caught one today that weighed six pounds.  It was a job to get him in.  I released him, so maybe I’ll have the pleasure of pulling him out another day.  I did keep a nice four pounder for Mother.  She  is a fish-eater, not a fan of catch and release.

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It couldn’t Be Helped Part 7

I don’t know why Mother comes home and tells these stories on herself.  She wasn’t arrested or shunned by her congregation.  Despite the impression the title of this post makes, Mother is very faithful to her faith, tithing, attending services weekly, and supportive of her church.  She normally writes a monthly check for her tithe, but one Sunday decided give an extra cash gift.  This was a fine idea, except that she only had twenties and wanted to give fifty dollars, not sixty.  Well, the obvious solution to her was to put three twenties in the offering plate and take out a ten.  For most people, this would have worked out fine, but Mother has been known to bumble, especially when she is concentrating hard.  When the plate was passed, she put in her three twenties and lifted a ten and a twenty.  She felt vaguely uneasy passing the plate on.

It was on her mind through the rest of the service, getting little out of the service, except a vague feeling of guilt when the pastor chose the text of “the widow’s mite.”  As soon as she got home, she counted her cash, realizing she’d committed a theft from God.  She wasn’t struck down by lightning when she waited until the following to return that twenty.

Anxious not to repeat that error.  She decided it would be best to purchase a money order to put in the offering plate.  Mother is notoriously tight with her money.  Hearing that “Mr. Thrifty,” the local liquor store had the cheapest money orders, she scurried in to purchase one.  Unfortunately, she locked her keys in the car.  There was no way to hide this fiasco.  She had to call me to bring her the extra key.  Naturally, I made the most of this ridiculous situation, since she CLAIMS to be a teetotaler.

The story didn’t end there.  As she put her money order in the offering plate the next Sunday morning, she noticed a big “Mr. Thrifty” logo emblazoned prominently on the bottom.  Baptists normally  have the grace not to advertise their visits to liquor stores so boldly.

My sister’s son is a minister.  Upon learning that he has accepted the pastorate of their home church, Connie remarked, “Now Mother has to start coming here.  Oh no, forget that.  He doesn’t need Mother stealing from the offering plate and losing her bra at our church.”

More on losing her bra at church later.  (to be continued)

I Love Mixed Metaphors

Hot! Hot! Hot!

Every year I forget how hot the summer gets. I had a toasty reminder one day last week. The temperature was in the high nineties with a heat index of 105-110 degrees. I did what I needed to do outdoors and got back in the house before eleven a.m. I had a hair appointment at four p.m. My son had my vehicle and Bud had gone somewhere in his, so when I got ready to go, I realized I had to drive his old 1996 Jeep Wrangler. He loves that old truck. He’d wanted one since he was a kid, so he can’t bear to part with it. He usually drives it once a week or so, just to keep it from feeling depressed. When I was ready to go, there it sat, in all its un-air-conditioned glory, just waiting to bake me all the way to the hairdresser.

I…

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It Couldn’t Be Helped Part 6

We went to visit an exotic animal park several years ago.  Unfortunately, it was a low budget operation that encouraged visitors to purchase packets of munchies that enticed the hungry critters to follow vehicles around hoping for a handout. I suspect that may have been a major portion of their diet.  They accepted gifts of dead large animals, providing  pick up if you called before the beast got cold.

Mother was delighted by the apparent “friendliness” of one particularly aggressive large camel who had taken a liking to her. He trotted along beside her as she tossed out the feeding pellets.  After she ran out of pellets, he continued running along side the automobile trying to put his head in the window to nudge for more.  Becoming concerned about the invasion, she pressed the button to raise the window.  As the driver sped up, the camel trotted faster.  Mother was impressed remarking, “Look at that stupid camel.  He’s determined to keep up with this car!”  The race continued along with Mother’s amusement.  “He’s still coming.  Just look how fast he’s moving!”

Indeed he was!  Mother had trapped his upper lip in the closed car window!  My brother-in-law stopped so she could lower her window, freeing her new friend.  The camel dropped her from his social circle and loped off in the opposite direction, taking care not to stumble over his drooping upper lip.

https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2015/01/02/meet-kathleen-alias-my-mother-on-video/   link to YouTube link

Ah Ha Ha Ha

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It Couldn’t Be Helped Part 5

Which looks better?
Mother was locked on the grounds of Windsor Castle, but in all honesty, it was’t her fault.  She was part of a tour group that got locked in.  They were just enjoying themselves and, as on the other museum visit, the group found themselves alone, the exits locked.  She hastily pointed out, this time it wasn’t her fault.  It was the group leader’s responsibility to keep up with the time.

Concerned about arrest for trespassing, they searched fruitlessly for a helpful guard.  None were found.  Eventually, they went up and beat on the castle doors, to no avail.  Mother was quite offended, sure the queen was inside and just refusing to answer because she was a snob.  Though she saw on the news later that night the queen was supposedly in Scotland, Mother was still miffed, preferring to believe she’d been snubbed.  Eventually, the group found an unlocked gate in the gardener’s area and made their departure.  Having to go out the back way did not improve Mother’ s prejudice toward Her Majesty.

Though Mother is a royal watcher, she never misses an opportunity to take a swipe at the queen.  “The queen wears ugly hats.”  “ The queen seems overbearing.” “It’s awful the way the queen bosses her family around.”  “I’ll bet she’s an awful mother/grandmother-in-law.”  “The queen is no better than anyone else.”  “The queen has gained weight.”  I don’t know why she got such a bee in her bonnet about the queen.  I know the queen would be devastated if she knew all the nasty things Mother says about her.

Mother positively gloated upon learning of a story published in The Guardian that DNA  studies on Richard III, one of Queen Elizabeth’s forebears was illegitimate.  Possibly, the queen herself has no better claim to the throne than Mother does.  I will leave it to the the two of them to sort that out.  I don’t have a dog in that fight.

Questions raised over Queen’s

ancestry after DNA test on

Richard III ‘s cousins.