Early life on a dirtpile

The Pile!

When my wife and I talk about our education we realize how different we were educated and raised. This should come as no surprise. She was raised in an area in Quebec where aluminum mining was the big industry. I was raised in an area of New York where the big industry was iron ore mining. That is where the similarity ends.

Her dad was the Assistant Superintendent of the company, my dad was the guy who went into the ground every day. A dangerous place. There were many mine widows in our town.

Sadly, my wife's dad could never become the big boss of the facility. He had the education. He spoke perfect English, but he was French Canadian. The facility was owned by English people. He could drink coffee with them but he would never be invited to join the country club.

It was very much like being a black man in Mississippi during the 60's. As long as you stayed in your place life was OK. The French Canadians were treated like second class citizens in their own province. This may help explain why "Parti Quebecois" became so powerful.

But that is another story.

This is about kids being educated and socialized.

My wife is surprised that I can remember all of my teachers from Kindergarten to high school. I am not.

She was educated by nuns. They all looked alike when she was in school. They wore black with white trim. Sister Mary Margaret and Sister Elizabeth looked like twins.

She did not have teachers with colorful nicknames like Peg Leg, Hose Nose, Frizzy, Fossil, Whitie, Bull, and Izzy, to name a few.

Some of the students had very colorful names also. Most of the names were some type of animal like Beaver, Horse, Dogbone, Mole, Cougar, Cub, Munger, Slats, and Carp, to name a few. That was my class only. I am sure some of the other classes had some colorful names also.

The teachers who survived and got tenure were actually quite good. You had to be pretty dedicated to hang around and teach at this school. The school was built on a pile of tailings. Our campus was dirt, gray dirt. If you left the windows open you could hear the sounds of ore cars coming out of the mines and the 2:20 PM explosion. The ground would rumble. They're getting more ore ready for the next shift.

One thing we have in that area is dirt, mountains of dirt.

The people who worked in these mines were a very diverse group. There were many names with "ski" at the end. I guess that would be the Polish People. We had black people who came from South Carolina to find work. We had numerous Spanish people, many French Canadians and of course, the Irish.

I lived a sheltered life for a while. I didn't actually meet a black person until I went to school. Let me correct that. I didn't actually see a black person until I started school.

I was waiting for the school bus which would drop off kids at the school.

The bus arrives and kids start getting off the bus. Suddenly this really black human gets off the bus. I was shocked. I never saw a person with that particular condition. Whatever he had I didn't want to catch it. I didn't know whether to run, poop my pants or go blind. I was traumatized. I eventually got over it. I made a full recovery from this trauma. The guy actually became a good friend later in my teen years.

My school never had a "gay" issue. Huh?...Well, maybe.

I knew of some people who were "different". The one person who really stood out as being gay was not really given a hard time. It was more insidious and subtle. He really wasn't "one of the boys". He was tolerated.

The odd thing, a couple of my classmate came out as gay later in life. I didn't have a clue that they were thinking of joining that club. It's a choice, right? (wink! wink!)

No child left behind? What a concept! There were no Special Education classes when I was in school. If you had an education issue, too bad for you. About half the class I started with in Kindergarten was left behind. It was a miracle that I didn't fall behind.

I made it through. I was horrible in math until 9th grade. The light bulb finally went on.

I was good at physical Education.(Gym)

Life on the dirt pile was interesting. This town of 5 hamlets had about 7,000 people in 1970. Numerous churches, 3 small high schools, 2 catholic schools, 5 post offices, numerous taverns and eateries and big brother, THE COMPANY!!!

The Company decided to close the mines in 1972. They could import steel cheaper.

Outsourcing began. 800 people lost their jobs. My dad retired in 1972. He collected a pension, social security, free health insurance for the next 33 years. Not too bad. I hope to do the same. That will take me right up to 2041. I don't know what I will do after that. I will be getting close to 100 years old.

The town is still there but they are dying a slow painful death. Me too. I hurt everywhere already. 

Pictured: Miners on their way to work.

Note:While getting information for this blog I came across a side story that is interesting.  It was a topix blog called "Remember when". It happened in my hometown.

Pictured: My school literally on a dirt pile.

December 1968: (posted by HWH)
I was at HWHenry(a car dealership) having a beer with Dick F, George B. , C. Henry, and Mark S.
Mark took a bottle of beer, put it on a steel beam in the back of the garage.  He said he would drink this bottle when he gets back from Vietnam.  
End of story? Not really. They say the bottle is still there.  The building is now the firehouse.  
April 26 would be 42 years.  Mark would be 62 years old now.  
Let me know for sure if the bottle of Genesee is still there.

Irony defined? A True Tale of geocaching.

Irony defined: A state of affairs or an event that seem deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

My wife and I recently  became geocachers.  One of my internet friends occasionally made reference to "geocaching" .  I tried to ignore it, but it just kept popping up.  I am a naturally curious person.  I googled it ...  I google everything.

It brought me to a website which, strangely was called "Geocaching".

The website defines geocaching as: A recreational activity of hunting for and finding a hidden object by means of GPS coordinates posted on a website.

In other words, finding tupperware in the woods using billion dollars worth of military satellites.  

This sounded like a fun activity to me.  It would be easy enough to get started: I already  had a TomTom GPS for our vehicle.  I signed up on Geocaching.com.  It was free and I found a few simple caches near our home.  

I was hooked.  Since a TomTom would not do the job out in the woods, I  started looking for a GPS that would best suit my needs.  

 A GPS saying, "Turn left on Ocean Blvd." would not be very helpful.  The actual decision took me only about four months.

One day my wife said to me, " Are you going to buy that GPS before you die?"

I had it the next day.  My biological clock is ticking, you know!

After a couple of days figuring out how to put my batteries in and turn it on, I was ready to geocache.  The little French lady went with me on my first few geocaches.

She seemed amused by my antics.  I would slither on the ground like a lizard, get hung up in bushes, have brambles in my hair, walk in dog poop, pick up dog poop thinking a cache would be hidden under it.  Once I even crawled under a gazebo looking for a cache.  A woman came along and asked my wife if she should call 911.  My wife talked her out of it.  I generally made a mess of myself while geocaching.

One day the little French lady asked some question about my GPS.  She started showing a little interest in my new hobby.  The next time we went geocaching she started questioning my navigational skills.  I was meandering all over the place.

Finally, she said, "Gimme that thing!" . Sigh... I did not see much of my Garmin Etrex that day.  Every once in a while I would whimper, "Can I look at it?"  The next day she ordered a Garmin GPS for herself.   She was hooked.

We learned about geocaching very quickly.  But...alas, not fast enough.  We would take a trinket out  and put a different one back in.  The trinkets are called "swag".

Somewhere in the beginning we apparently made some breach of  swag etiquette.

One of the cache owners sent us a nastygram accusing us of replacing her high price swag (her treasure)  with our cheap swag (our trash).  She said we plundered her cache.  We acknowledged that her swag may have been more valuable than ours. We did not consider our swag as  "trash", nor did we plunder her cache.  We didn't think swag was the point of geocaching, and we still do not.  Nonetheless she called us everything but a human being, which we thought might be considered a breach of etiquette also.  We were kinda taken aback by the whole incident.  I guess "One man's treasure is another man's trash".

We decided we would place our own cache and dedicate it to this incident.  Naturally we called it, "One man's treasure".  Wanting to keep with the theme, we decided to hide it at an appropriate place, near a flea market.  But ... we had no idea how ironic the whole story would be.

Life can be funny.

We received an email this morning from a geocacher named "The Shady Lady".

Here's what she said: "We  saved this cache! The landscape clean-up crew had thrown it in the garbage.  They were pretty interested to hear the explanation of geocaching and will be on the lookout for other mysterious containers that may pop up in their line of work. Tftc (Thanks for the Cache)".

Whew! that was close.  From Trash back to treasure!!!  Thanks, Shady Lady for saving GC2N3XP (One man's treasure).

A Report from the Hemlock Institute.

Life in America

A skewered look at life on this planet.  Brought to you by the Hemlock Institute, an non-profit think tank running on fumes.

Think tanks are quite adept at making prediction.  I will make some predictions.

• In the year 2030: There will be millions of people walking around with their heads bent to one side.  They will have radiation marks on their face from cellphone microwaves.  Chiropractors will become millionaires.  They will be new rich. 
• New type cellphones will be put out by Apple.  It will be implanted in your ear at birth. Sadly you will not be able to sign up for "Do not call" until your eighteenth birthday. Many teenager will go insane while others will go bankrupt buying stuff from telemarketers.  
• Cigarette companies will come out with Nicotine flavored baby food. 
• Governor Lindsay Lohan will sign the California free drug law into effect.  This will drive the Mexican Cartels out of business.  She will also sign into law the "English again law".  This will once again make English the first language in California after a 12 year absence.  English may be taught in schools again.  The Latino community is furious.  Since they are 70% of the citizens of the state they should have some say in the decision.  Texas is keeping an eye on the developments. They may also switch to English.
• Airport security is starting to get slack again.  You will no longer have to go through the checkpoints completely naked.  You will be issued a washcloth to use as you deem appropriate.  After the inspection you will be issued a orange jump suit before...Yes...before...you get on the plane.  Your baggage will be forwarded on a flatbed railroad car.  You can pick it up at a train station closest to your destination.
• Movies with people wearing clothing is coming back into vogue.  Studies have shown that people wearing certain clothes can be very sexy and provocative.  Hence, any movie with clothed people will be rated "R" or "X".
• A member of the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kansas questioned whether they were doing the right thing.  They told him that he was a homosexual and deserved to die.  Some things never change.
• The Democratic majority in Congress voted to revoke the Republican revocation of the previous revocation of the revocation of the Obama health bill.  They were all in agreement that they should get a big raise.  It was voted into law 99 to 1.  The one "no" vote was by Bernie Saunders of Vermont.
• The average adult American now weighs 294 pounds.  Down from a high of 302 from 6 years ago. McDonald's has downsized their Mac (no longer called the big Mac) to a half pound.  The Biggest Loser is on Every night of the week on every channel.  The average would be higher if it wasn't for the diabetics, which is now 83% of the population.  The diabetics are dropping like leafs in October.
• Destiny Lovechild is voted Playboy's playmate of the Year. The beauty from Los Angeles, Mexifornia is 6 ft 3 inches in heighth, she weighs in at a hefty 107 pounds. She has broken the mold.  She is the first to weigh in over 100 pounds since Angela "Porky" Gonzales, who hit the scale at a whopping 109 pounds on her 5'11" frame. That was 9 years ago.
• The blockade of Cuba is in its 73rd year.  The President hopes to have troops out of Afghanistan by 2035.
• The chairperson of the Republican party once again scoffed at the idea of global warming.  He issued this from his Condo at the Little America, Antartica after 18 holes of golf.
• A District Attorney for Cook County Illinois stated that Johnnie Lee Jones, a convicted murderer was innocent.  He showed ample evidence of police misconduct, videotape showing the real murderer doing the deed, incompetence by Johnnie's attorney,  Proof that Johnnie was somewhere else, (he was in Washington, testfiying before Congress at the very second of the murder), and someone elses DNA at the scene.   The DA was fired.  When questioned, Cook County officials stated that Jones was convicted by his peers.  (12 white guys with a IQ total of nearly 100). No new trial for Johnnie.  He will be executed on schedule.
• Microsoft has solved "The blue screen of death" problem.  It is now red.  It will be called "The red screen of death".
• Clint Eastwood stated he may run for Mayor of Carmel, Mexifornia again.  He must finish his last Harry Callahan adventure called "The nursing home caper."  Quick plot line: Someone steals Harry's "Depends".  He tracks them down and beats the crap out of them or something like that.  Actually, He just touched their belly and said, "I know what your thinking. Did I have five depends or 6 depends?  Well, Frankly, with all the excitement and my Alzheimer's, I kinda lost track myself. Being that I just took in a boxful of prunes this morning, the most powerful laxative known to man,  you have to ask yourself, "Do I feel luck, punk? Well, do ya?....Oops!"  "GIVE THEM TO ME........NOW!!!!!!"......Well, I guess you get the idea.
• There is a new program on TV called "Press the meat". It is about life in the Salami and cold cut industry. 
• Former President Obama returns home to Kenya.  Ummm!...Huh?...Even that one surprised me.
• Former President George Dubbaya Bush finally learned how to say strawtiggery.
• Colleges have adopted the "No Student must fail".  You can just send the college the tuition money and you get drunk for 4 years.  At the end of four years you get your degree.  Hmmm? That didn't change much except for the "No Student must fail" part.

Well, I have given you a glimpse of the future.  We (WE???) here at the Hemlock Institute continue to notice the trends of the day and can predict the future from these trends.  That is what a think tank does.  I think..possibly, could be, perhaps, maybe.

I can say these things unequivocally.

I could be wrong.

My 1957 survival kit

It sure was the best of times.

Ahhh!! The bittersweet passage of time.

Recently my sister notified me that the house I grew up in had been sold. It had been the family home for over 50 years. She said she had found some interesting stuff in the attic, basement, and storage shed. She had also found a trunk in what used to be my bedroom.

I had forgotten about the junk trunk. My mother had saved some mementos of my youth and I had thrown some stuff in there myself.

Could my long lost baseball card collection from my youth be in that chest? I will tell my sister to send it to me, all of it.

I waited with great anticipation for the arrival of the goodies.

My New York Yankees cards, my Mickey Mantle baseball cards were probably on their way back to me. Dollar signs danced in my head. Mickey Mantle rookie cards. It would be a financial bonanza. Our family "Ponderosa" had been sold.

The package had finally arrived and it did have plenty of stuff from the 50's. My Mickey Mantle road to riches bonanza was not in the package.

I had some baseball cards. I had Ray Jablonski, Rip Repulski, Ted Kluszuski, Moe Drabowski, and Bill Mazerowski. Nobody named Yogi, Mickey, Casey, Babe, or Honus. No "Stosh" either.

Apparently I was putting together a polish baseball team.

I am a record keeper so I got out my pen and paper and itemized my find.

I had some newspapers. The Albany Times-Union. Hmmm! What happen in 1957 in Albany and the World.

• Francois "Poppa Doc" Duvalier became dictator of Haiti. That name seems to ring a bell. He sees no reason why Haiti can not be a vibrant and lively country.
• Hamilton watch company introduces the first electric watch. The watch cost only $29, but the cord cost $142 and it was unruly.
• A kid named Elvis Presley appeared on the "Ed Sullivan Show". A really big shoo that night. The kid is a flash in the pan. He won't last critics are reporting. Religious groups are calling him a messenger of the devil.
• Wham-O toy company came out with a plastic disc called a "Frisbee" named after the aluminum pie plate from the Frisbee Pie Company of Bridgeport, Ct.
• The Brooklyn Dodgers are moving west next year. Baseball starts playing musical chairs. Giant's are moving to San Fransisco. Yankees stay in New York.
• July 6, 1957* Paul McCartney and John Lennon meet for the first time.
• Leave it to Beaver premieres on TV. These stories are about a sulky youth named Beaver Cleaver, making the Nelson family seem like saints. Beaver was always in trouble of some sort. Ricky Nelson, on the other hand, always had a gig and appeared be the bread winner in the family. His father, Ozzie, seemed to be unemployed. He just would walk into the closet and stay there awhile. He would wander into the kitchen and ask Harriet a stupid question, laugh at his own folly then head next door to see "Thorny". It seems to me like he should be filling out applications or making some phone calls. Find a job, Oz!!!

• Vanna White is born in North Myrtle Beach, SC. Her parents go to store and buy her a vowel.
• I look at the comic strips. We have Dick Tracy. I tried to read that comic strip but it was just too crazy. A two way wrist radio? Come on, get real, not going to happen. A fantasy world. I must enjoy comics that are much more realistic, so I read "Henry", which is about a bald-headed kid. His head is large compared to his body. Bigger Brain? Nope!!! I also read Nancy and Sluggo, Little Lulu, Buzz Sawyer and Ozark Ike. Ozark Ike was about a slow witted but talented athlete. I could relate to him.
• On TV during this era was programs like Dragnet, where Jack Webb could showcase his acting ability. I never knew that "just the facts, ma'am" could be said so many different ways.
• Steve Allen does his last "Tonight Show". He is replaced by Jack Lescoulie. Jack Lescoulie!!!!...????..really? Wow!!! Roy Rogers goes off the air after he accidentally runs over his dog, Bullet. The dog recovers, the program doesn't.
• Gas cost 24 cents a gallon, eggs are 28 cents a dozen.

Moving on, I go to the sports page and I see that our local catholic schools had a baseball game.

Final Score: Our Lady of Perpetual Persnicketiness: 2, Our Mother of Perpetual Motion: 0.

Rumors abound. Monsignor O'Malley got in a fist fight with the umpire. His star pitcher, Mary Margaret McManus was a girl. A rather boyish girl who threw a Brylcream ball which is very much like a spit ball or a wildroot cream oil ball. Illegal.

I notice my secret stash of Annette Funicello pictures. She is in a provocative pose. She is wearing funny ears and is developing. She is a babe.

Hmmm! I have found my high school notebook. It has the initials MM written everywhere. Melita Mongooze, my big crush from 3rd grade to 10th grade. I always tried to get a desk very close to her, but not in front of her. I always wanted a good view of Melita. I just figured early on that if I was in close proximity to her that she would eventually notice me and then turn to me and ask, "Would you like to have sex with me?" I thought this could happen until 10th grade. Then one day a Senior walked up to her and queried, "Would you like to have sex with me?" and off she went as my world disintegrated like a sandcastle at high tide. 7 or 8 years of planning down the drain. Since that day I have never had long range goals. It just doesn't pay.

Hey, there is my report card. Hmmm! I had better burn this before my wife gets her hand on it. I did get an "A" in Physical Education, I might add.

What is that? Oh....Ok...I have sketched out some plans for building a fallout shelter. Yes, that was a brilliant idea. After the bomb falls you sit in your shelter for 6 months. Then you run out of food and water. Then you go outside, your head swells up, your hair falls out, you end up looking like a comic book character that I seem to remember, then you mutate and die.

Yes, it was the best of times. no worries. I have this little story in my head. Everything was just wonderful.

I wonder what ever happened to Melita Mongooze? It's all coming back to me now. I think she ruined my life. I wonder if it is too late to ruin hers? I haven't been right since 10th grade. That's a long time.

My head now feels like Henry's head.

I can't look at this stuff any more. Very painful. (sniff!...sniff)

Burn it.

The writers (bloggers) block

Writer's corner.....30 seconds after I stood up.

This has been a busy Christmas season for the little French lady and me. She takes a two week vacation during this time of year. We do things that will entertain both of us during the holidays.

I have been doing a little bit of geocaching in the previous months. At first, I didn't think she was interested. I was wrong. She had been sneaking a peak at my preparations for my adventure. One day she decided to follow.

Hmmm! I will bring her into the woods, walk her through mud, make her slither on the ground like a slug, I will make sure it is hell for her.

Well....That's not exactly what happened. We arrived near the geocache location and entered "the jungle" I had chosen. I had my little GPS in hand.

My wife said "Where are we going? How far is it? Let me see that GPS." That was the last time I touched the GPS that day.

I was looking under termite infested tree trunks, climbing trees, moving rocks that weigh more than I do, kneeling in drainage ditches, poking at animal scatology, rolling in ant hills and walking through a leaking cesspool. It was hell for me.

My wife loved it. She purchased her own GPS the next day. I am the official crawler of the team. My wife will touch no geocache that requires that her knees touch the ground.

During this vacation we have discovered 36 caches within 4 miles of our house. It kept us busy. There was not much time for writing a blog.

When we weren't geocaching we were playing Qwirkle. This is a simple game for anyone but to be good at it takes concentration. If your mind wanders, you're beat.

My wife beat me 10 times in a row. My mind tends to wan....what was I talking about?

I think I have DAD (deficit attention disorder). I may be dyslexic also. As I like to say, "Dyslexic untie" , our battle cry. This has also blocked me from writing my blog.

The biggest obstacle to writing my blog is losing my creative writing nook. That would be my Milan Puff chair w/Ottoman. I am not quite sure which day I lost it, but it's gone.

Wilson and I had a tacit agreement that the chair would be exclusively mine but he could use the ottoman at any time.

He respected this agreement for many months. Then, one morning he breached the contract. I removed him from my chair and put him on the ottoman. He kept going back to the chair. Before going to bed, I would put the ottoman on the chair. This prevented him from using the chair while we were sleeping.

One morning I came downstairs for breakfast. I looked in the chair. He was scrunched up in the chair behind the ottoman. He had the look of defiance, the attitude of Houdini after a miraculous escape. His demeanor said it all, like "nice try, Bucko!!!"

I had seen that cattitude many times.

well, I guess I am going to have to share.

Didn't happen!!!

If I get to the chair first and I am blogging on my laptop, he gets on the side of the chair, pushes his head under the laptop and lifts and he keeps lifting until I dispose of the laptop.

If he sees me walking toward the chair, he will run to chair and hop in it and glare at me.

If I stand up to look out the window, which only takes 5 seconds, when I turn to sit down again, he is in my spot in the chair.

I think it's Wilson's favorite game.

One day I whined to my wife, "He is ruining my creative flow. He has taken over my chair, he has ruined my life. I am done as a writer, a blogger. I am sure Hemingway didn't have to put up with this problem."

My wife started laughing.

" Now your comparing yourself to Hemingway? If you're Hemingway, I'm Bill Gates.

Do You mean Ralph Hemingway? Incidentally, Ernest was a big fan of cats and he probably did have this problem. Stop your whining. Fight for your chair. Work it out among yourselves."

We did.

After much bickering, threats and cajoling we came to some sort of agreement.

As I write this from the kitchen table Wilson sits in my? chair. I am blocked from my writer's nook.

Writer's block indeed!!!!

Where did all my friends go? To the farm?

Could you run that by me again?

I have been invited once again to become a farmer on Facebook. Which brings me to the question: Why am I on Facebook and where is Farmville? I don't want to help you with your crops. Leave me alone.

I may join Farmville just so I can let loose a plague of locust followed by an invasion by an army of ants. Is that a possible option?

Why Facebook at all? Some people just have too much free time. They tell you more than you really need to know. I didn't know my Uncle Percy had thirteen bowel movements in an eight hour period. Wow! This is special.

I don't have many Facebook friends. Eighteen, I believe. My wife and I communicate regularly on Facebook. She is one of my friends.

My friend Matt has about eight hundred Facebook friends. I don't even know that many people. Wow! That is a lot of stamps for Christmas cards.

I don't know why Matt has so many friends. He doesn't even have a Farmville farm.

Perhaps it is because he is a tall, tanned, intelligent MB lifeguard who smiles a lot. My wife says he is kinda good looking also. That can't hurt.

There are some causes or clubs on Facebook that I might be interested in. Here's a list of a few that others might be interested in joining.

• Squirrels against frozen nuts.
• Reefer sadness. (Glaucoma sufferers of South Carolina)
• Bad Yearbook pictures. (That is a blog in itself.)
• 101 uses for a human carcass.

Well, at least it's not My Space. My Space is really lovely if you're a 9 year old rap singer.

I've taken steps to clean up my email. This has been a thorny issue for quite a while.

I blocked certain emails. I set up rules. I explained to my friends about viruses. It will block any email that is a forward: I will miss my relatives and friends. I told them that a forward is like having sex with everyone on the list. Some of the guys wanted to know where they could sign up.

A couple said they had herpes so they didn't care. One girl sprayed her computer with Lysol after I told her.

Ah well, I tried. Sadly I haven't gotten an email in three weeks. Not even from Barrister Michael Okubu in Nigeria. He is handling my Nigerian financial affairs.

I expect to come into some money very soon. I hope I live long enough to spend it.

One of my recent emails told me to forward it to twenty four of my closest friends or my teeth would fall out and I would die on January first of next year.

Nice friend!!!

I lost all my friends now that I made some rules. I checked my spam folder, and there seem to be a lot of people who want to be my friends and help me with certain issues. There are so many to choose from, really. Should I go for the breast enlargment or the dates with Russian girls? My wife keeps receiving offers to enlarge her penis.

Oh wait, I can get a free credit score for $29.95.

I guess I can delete a few things.

Apple wants to know if I want to buy an Ipad. (too late) delete.

Amazon wants to know if I want a kindle. Nope! see above. delete.

Amazon wants to know if I want twenty other things. They are making suggestions. delete, delete, delete.

Classmates is offering a premium membership. Already happened. (note to myself.. why am I a member of classmates? Oh, it is called social networking.) delete.

Apple wants to know if I wish to keep my membership for mobileme. Right! basically $99 for email and 5 other things I don't use. delete

Reader's Digest wants me to subscribe to their booklet. I am already subscribed up to the year 2034. Do I want to subscribe to a magazine that is now officially crap and is 50% advertisement? delete

Wow!!! My inbox is totally empty.

I think I will go get the mail....

I'm back.

Let's see what we have today. It is getting close to Christmas. Let's shuffle through all the nice Christmas cards we received:

• the Honda dealership in Vermont wishes us a Merry Christmas and tells us our maintenaince is due. We sold the Honda 6 months ago
• some company in Florida is informing us that it is our last chance to renew our Kia maintenance service contract. We sold that car three years ago
• Bank of America wants to sell us some life insurance
• Visa is telling us what a great deal they have for a credit card

Mastercard is telling me how lucky I am because they raised my credit line by a few grands

I will pin these on the fireplace. I feel so into the season now.

That is my mail for today.

Back to my computer. Oh, some one nudged me on Facebook. It was my wife.

My wife suggested that if I wanted to have her as a Facebook friend I should empty my trash folder or (and I quote) " I will kick your butt so hard and so long that it will end up in Russia and will be so large you will go to a plastic surgeon for a butt reshaping and reduction."

I believe I will keep her as a Facebook friend. Perhaps we can have a little farm together.

Is that any way to treat a hero?

ESSENTIALLY OILED

It all started innocently enough. In fact, I kinda looked upon myself as a hero. Heroes need to be rewarded but that's not what happened.

My wife and I are people who like our home to smell nice. We have many things that have a wonderful aroma. We have numerous essential oils, scented candles, a variety of incense sticks and numerous diffusers. We have something aromatic in every room. We don't count the utility room where Wilson has his litter box.

One day I turned on one of the candle wax warmers, put some oil in it and let it do its job. When I went to turn it off, it gave me a wonderful light show, it started sparking and smoke was coming from the switch. I crawled under the dresser the best I could and I pulled the plug.(I am now a hero. I saved our house, perhaps the whole street, perhaps the whole north end.)

That warmer was finished. Some parts were salvageable such as the glass area where the wax sits in while it is heating up. I didn't throw that away. I will clean it up.

This morning I decided to clean it up. That is when things started getting a little strange. I cleaned off the wax and the essential oil. The essential oil was called "Pussy".

It was recommended by our friend Samantha who has a large booth at the flea market. She had hundreds of different essences to choose from and she said this one was currently a hot seller and it had a nice aroma. We had purchased a few other oils there such as Egyptian Musk, French Lavender, Patchouli, and several others.

Some of the other oils had strange or provocative names. We all had a few good laugh about the one we had just purchased. None of us were prudish about it.

So...while I am cleaning up the essential oil of the day, the doorbell rings. It's my neighbor, Prudence Goodbody, neighborhood snoop and troublemaker.

I open the door and invite her in. What trouble can I get into? My wife is upstairs working.

"Hi, remember me? I'm Prudence....your neighbor? I live a few houses away. Listen, I have this petition for you to sign. It's about our other neighbor's dog. There is dog poop all over the place. I told him we are getting up a petition to get this resolved by County animal control."

Note: This is a strict area for curbing your dog. The city doesn't like dog poop all over the place, especially this close to the beach.

"I'll sign, but I have already resolved it in my own mind. I'm going to scoop up the poop, put it in a bag, put it on his doorstep and set it on fire." I stated proudly.

While I was signing the petition she said, "It smells wonderful in here, certainly better than it does outdoors. What is that aroma?"

In a moment of madness or truthful folly, I am not sure which, I said, "Pussy."

which it was!!!!!

A long silence, then,..... "EXCUSE ME!!!!

Oops!...try to save yourself, son!...try to save yourself.

"Pussy you said?"

"Ummm!..yeah...they were selling it at the flea market. " (somehow I don't think that is exactly what I wanted to say.)

"What!!!!!!!"

Maybe I can still salvage this. "Samantha sells a lot of it, she has a booth."

Nope! Do not resuscitate. no salvage possibilities. This would not be a good time to invite her to the donkey barbecue.

Just go with the flow.

"They're selling it openly in a public place? Oh....my...god!!!!"

"Yes...Yes, a lot of it. People are even asking for "Sex on the Beach" and a lot of other stuff too." I asked her if she would like some.

She slapped me and then fainted. I revived her by throwing a glass of water on her face. I had seen it done in the movies many times. She got to her feet, slapped my face again. Then she called me a perverted pig. She ran away screaming for the police.

When the police arrived, I explained the situation. She over reacted to the name of some of the essential oils. Did I mention that to Prudence? That the aroma was essential oils?..I thought I did. Perhaps I got caught up in the moment.

The police are going to explain that I really didn't want to have "Sex on the Beach" with her......eventually. For now I will just be a hero in my own mind.

sniff! sniff!! It sure does smell purdy in here!!!!!

What is that scent? It's...either Patchouli, sandalwood or.....Is that the doorbell ringing again?