Things Happen

“They’re in the dishwasher, but should be finished by now.”I told him.

During my errands yesterday, I got a phone call from Bud. “Didn’t you tell me you washed those jars of corned beef you canned? I was going to put them in the pantry and I can’t find them. Where did you put them?” He sounded totally bewildered.

“Why in the world did you do that? Oh, never mind!” He blustered.

We’ve been married more than fifty years, but Bud still forgets it makes perfect sense to me to wash jars of canned goods in the dishwasher. We paid a lot for that dishwasher and need to get full value. Why run a sink full of soapy water to wash them by hand and risk having a slippery jar crash and break? The dishwasher does a great job.

I’ve always felt appliances should be multi-functional. I’ve already done my own research and can tell you some pitfalls, but the idea is great.

Ovens make excellent emergency dryers, but don’t do your hair. Putting your head in the oven makes a bad impression. Properly done, ovens could be used for clothes, shoes, and other stuff you might not want, or be able to put in your clothes dryer. Also, the dryer might be on the blink. (Possibly from Multi-Function Appliance Use)I do have a couple of cautions, however. When drying your dainties in the oven, pre-heat it to a nice warm temp, then turn it off. Be sure to put them on a nice cool cookie sheet before you slide them in. When mine hit the hot oven rack they sizzled and melted. Long crosswise burns across the butt was not a look I could live with.

I ran into a little problem drying my son’s tennis shoes in the oven before I’d worked all the kinks out of my system. His only pair had to be dry for school the next morning, so in the oven they went. It’s a lot easier to set the temperature higher than you think, believe me. I forgot to set the timer. In just a bit, I smelled rubber burning. By the time I got to them, melted shoe soles dripped to the oven floor. Still thinking they could be salvaged, I worked the shoes free, hoping I could saw the drippy soles off smooth. Didn’t work. The toes curled up till the shoes looked like skis. We ended up making a flying trip to the store with him in his socked feet, getting there just before the store closed at nine.Bud was totally unreasonable about the whole situation

To be continued

A Hog a Day Part 5

“Hurry up and get your shoes on.  We’re going to Mr. Grady’s house.  You can play with his grandkids.”  Daddy called behind him as he headed for the truck. “I ain’t waiting for you!”

I was near frantic as I tore through the house looking for the shoes I’d kicked off the last time I’d been made to wear them.  Shoes were for school and going places.  I’d never have worn them voluntarily.  “I gotta find my shoes so I can go with Daddy.  He ain’t waiting!”

Mother didn’t show proper concern.  “You’re supposed to put them under your bed.  Did you look there?”

I don’t know why she said stuff like that.  I never put things away!  This time, I was saved.  They were tucked neatly under my bed where Mother had put them when she swept. “I found ‘em.  Bye!”

”Don’t kick ‘em off and leave them somewhere.  That’s your only pair.  Are you listening?”

”I won’t!  Bye!”  Daddy was waiting in the truck with the engine running with Billy next to him.  “I thought maybe I was gonna have to leave you.”

Mr. Grady and two identical-looking boys greeted us at the gate.  “This here is my grandboys, Big Boy and Little Boy.  Now, all you younguns go play while  we go git a cup of coffee.  Boys, I’ll skin you alive if I catch you chasing the calf again.”  The four of us took off.  I liked these kids, already.

“You want to see the armadillos?”  one of them inquired.

”Okay.”  I’d seen plenty of armadillos, mostly flat on the roadside, but never had the opportunity to get to know one personally.  We trooped to a fenced in area back of the house where a herd of armadillos of all sizes rushed us.

”They think we  gonna feed ‘em, “ one of the boys explained. “Pap’s always got a mess of armadillos shut up back here.  We gonna fool ‘em today, though.  We gonna eat one for dinner today.  Want to help us catch one.”

The race was on.  We chased those fast little rascals all over that pen but never caught one.  Eventually, we gave it up for wheelbarrow rides.  Two kids pushed the barrow while the rider claimed the privilege of riding till dumped over.  I could have done that all day. Eventually, Daddy concluded his visit and we headed home.  I was very disappointed to miss the armadillo dinner, but Daddy said we had to be moving on.  Though I spent hours with them, I never did learn which was Big Boy or Little Boy.

When we got home, the first words out of Mother’s mouth were, “Where are your shoes?  You’ve got to go to Bible School tomorrow.”

I wore sixty-nine cent flip flops for the rest of the summer.

 

 

 

 

Styling on Shoes

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I am thankful I’ve achieved one of my life goals!  I got Keds!  All the snooty kids wore Keds when I was in school.  Since there were five of us to shoe, Mother showed no interest in putting us on our path to snootiness.  When the guy at the shoe repair shop gave her notice that shoes were beyond repair, she’d bring home a new pair, sized by the pencilled imprint of the lucky kid’s foot.  She always went prepared,  just in case.  We were a one-car family and there was no possibility of a special trip just for shoes.  We were whatever she brought home.  There was no chance we could claim ugly shoes didn’t fit.  She knew what she was doing.

Sometimes,  one of us tripped Mother up by having a major shoe malfunction resultingin shoe acquisition that couldn’t be put off till Thursday, Daddy’s payday and her scheduled trip to town,  in that miserable situation.  On more the one occasion, she made a panicky trip to the dry goods store in Cottage Valley and bought the only shoes available.  We hated these crummy sneakers, or “Tennies” as we called them, the ugly, red-headed stepchildren of Keds.

Girls got a style somewhat reminscent of Keds, usually white, wide in the arch, just right for duck feet. Bill got hightop, black basketball shoes with a white basketball on the ankle.  Naturally, we had to wear theses lovelies till they fell apart.  Mine were always dirty by the time I got to school, even if I were lucky enough they’d just been washed, and frankly, they weren’t washed that often.

My brother Billy got off the bus in one shoe after school one afternoon.  Mother exploded. “Boy, where’s your shoe?”

He wasted some time trying to explain and she wasted more trying to make sense of the story.  Finally, she got down to business and hauled him back to school to retrieve it from deep in a mass of brush on the wrong side of a hurricane fence.  Undoubtedly, he’d pushed it deeper in his rescue attempts.  Eventually, they showed up at home victorious except for scratches on her forearms and a tick or two.

 

 

High Efficiency, Multi-Funtion Appliances

I probably won’t have a lot of time for WordPress once I post this. Design and idea people will be beating a path to my door by tomorrow morning, or maybe even later today, once California gets this. Appliances should be multi-functional. I’ve already done my own research and can tell you some pitfalls, but the idea is great.

Ovens make excellent emergency dryers, but don’t do your hair.  Putting your head in the oven makes a bad impression. Properly done, ovens could be used for clothes, shoes, and other stuff you might not want, or be able to put in your clothes dryer. Also, the dryer might be on the blink. (Possibly from Multi-Function Appliance research) I do have a couple of cautions, however.  When drying your dainties in the oven, pre-heat it to a nice warm temp, then turn it off. Be sure to put them on a nice cool cookie sheet before you slide them in. When mine hit the hot oven rack they sizzled and melted.  Long crosswise burns across the butt was not a look I could live with.

I ran into a little problem drying my son’s tennis shoes in the oven before I’d worked all the kinks out of my system.  His only pair had to be dry for school the next morning, so in the oven they went.  It’s a lot easier to set the temperature higher than you think, believe me.  In just a bit, I smelled rubber burning.  By the time I got to them, melted shoe soles dripped to the oven floor.  Still thinking they could be salvaged, I worked the shoes free, hoping I could saw the drippy soles off smooth.  Didn’t work.  The toes curled up till the shoes looked like skis.  We ended up making a flying trip to the store with him in his socked feet, getting there just before the store closed at nine.

Bud was totally unreasonable about the whole situation.

to be continued

 

 

Sweet Little Girl and Her Puppy

Sometimes I wonder if others are such life voyeurs as I?  It seems stories just leap everywhere I go.  I don’t just see a little girl walking with her dog down the street and move on.  I watch as long as I can see her, the way she walks, her apparent mood. Does she stoop to play with the puppy? Is it on a string or a leash?  Why is she wearing oversized sneakers?  Did she slip off in them or have to wear them?  Is that a happy or sad song she’s humming?

World’s Best Birthday Party(Part II of II)

Awfuls chasing turey

Awfuls in Pigpen

(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life.  If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)

Jamey’s birthday party was the most fun I’ve ever had. There had been no “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. When my mother walked over to get me, I could tell she was not happy. She didn’t even go in for coffee like she always did at neighbor lady’s houses. Boy was I in trouble with my ruined party dress, lost shoes, and muddy self. She said I could never go to the Awfuls again.

I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to