Quip's Corner - FFMI

FFMI

Fabulous Faux Memories Incorporated

The sticky juice of melted popsicle, dripping from the cheeks of a child, sweet cotton candy and icy snow cones sold from nearby booths.

Pop, pop, pop…cap gun wars begin amongst the groups of smiling families camped like little islands along the street.

The sun is rising brightly over the treetops, quickly warming faces and clothing. Distant music is heard from local marching bands.

People seem to sway and lean towards the street in hopes of seeing little Willy playing the tuba or Sally, the flute, in bright colored costumes with feathers and bells.

The street is alive with laughing and chattering, children sitting on dad’s shoulders, pointing at the horses and clowns.

Young girls in tight dresses with royalty sashes, teetering, trying to maintain grace and a plastic smile while perfecting mannequin waves to the crowds.

Bobby, holding a red and white striped box of buttered popcorn, spills it, semi-unintentionally on the head of his little sister, who, with hands in the air, immediately yells for her mother.

Her mother is behind the crowds, in the shade of a huge maple tree, feeding and bouncing the baby, whose morning nap is being missed.

Dad continually looks at his watch, plotting and planning the ultimate route to the park for the picnic lunch, while avoiding the traffic as well as considering the feasibility of sneaking away to sample the potato salad in the trunk of the car.

Celebrating memories Like these (of life, of America and of family) can be yours for only four payments of $39.95. Sorry, no COD’s accepted.

So call (1-900-No Life) and receive the memories the YOU think that you deserve!!!

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Quip's Corner - From the Files of Field Reporter, Arthur Rupert Joopleseat:

The last time lightning struck the tiny town of Sleepy Sin, both residents were seen running south through the sage brush, one after the other. The one behind, because he was, frankly, on fire, chasing the other, because she had seen fit to use the only town water bucket as a potted plant stand.

The tiny general store has burnt to the ground, leaving an oval of charred ash as the only memory of its passing. Last I saw, the town saloon, across the street, was still burning. Well, you know what they say, “If your caught living in Sin, you’ll probably burn!”

Sin apparently has had a few new residents move in recently. With floral cotton curtains across the windows and flower gardens out front, one can only assume that the new Sinners are of the feminine persuasion (which thrills this reporter to no end.) In fact, I believe that I can see a rather full figured white lace brassiere fluttering and drying in the breeze, like an erotic flag of surrender, across a clothes line, which is attached from the side of the only house in Sin to the town well (minus one bucket.)

I have come to believe that the women of Sin certainly know the area but aren’t looking for much male companionship. Because, over the last few weeks, from my somewhat itchy perch in this overgrown pine tree, I have seen countless men walk into town. They go straight up to the house (with what I can only describe as a thirsty look on their faces) and knock on the door. They will make some sort of request, statement or question and be abruptly sent looking for whatever they requested in, what I have been able to determine must be another town over the hill to the south west. I come to this conclusion because I am usually able to make out a distinctly feminine voice, coming from the door, shouting firmly and clearly, “Go straight to Hell!”

I have made a note in my records to make a day trip to go see this Hell and what must be an enormous male population residing there. I must then also assume that, from my observations, once you have Sinned, you normally go directly to Hell.


Post note: This is the last report on record as being filed by Arthur. Follow up notes indicate that he was discovered, delirious and suffering from heat stroke, wandering a desert in the south west, mumbling incoherently. We can only assume, from piecing together his incomprehensible babble, that he thought that his predicament was shear hell, or something along those lines. It is still somewhat unclear.

As a final memorandum to poor Arthur Rupert Joopleseat, we have received the odd random note here at the home office, scribbled fairly illegibly on torn scraps of lacy white material, indicating, if these can be indeed attributed to Mr. Joopleseat, that he apparently is being nursed back to health somewhere. The information is sketchy, just something about being able to see an overgrown pine tree from his bed, through windows with floral cotton curtains.

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Quip's Corner - Ode to the Fisherman

You roll out of bed about three
Your pole, tackle and clothes on a chair
You leave the light off but then you can’t see
You throw on a hat to cover your hair

Load the car, go pick up the buddy
You wait cus’ he’s saying goodbye to the wife
You tell him “make sure your shoes are not muddy”
You both shout “Boy, this is the life!”

It’s still dark when you get to the lake
Fingers go numb when you open the door
You struggle and fumble to hook on the bait
And bet your buddy who’ll be first to reach the shore

Set your tackle aside, you cast your line out
And find a stick to prop up the pole
Just when you sit to relax, your buddy gives a shout
You jump up but he says that he was just cold

You smack him upside the head for scaring away the fish
You have to reel in and replace your bait
Just a nibble on the line would be your ultimate wish
You find a rock, sit down and WAIT!

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Odds and Ends

The basement is at the stage of odds and ends....  A mirror, toilet paper holder and hand towel holder for the bathroom....  Coverings for the three holes in the walls where the main water shut off valve and two sewer drain clean out valves are located... replacement windows for the two broken windows in the boys bedroom and family room....

The boys have now been moved into their new room.  I spent Monday installing a closet kit of shelves and pole hangers for the boys new closet.  I was fairly proud of myself.  It came out ok.  I keep walking into their closet, turning on the light and admiring my work.  This must indicate that I don't do many things worth admiring.  I keep reliving my victories.  Which also explains why I don't look closely at the closet door....not my best effort.

The cold storage is being relieved of all the toys and other storage items that have been stuffed in their for the past eight months.  Most have now been placed in the closet under the stairs.  All the board games, kids games and family dvds have been relocated down to the other closet in the basement.  This closet currently has no door or other covering.  The games are on full display in a colorful stacked rainbow.  A few other items collected through the years are in stacks in various corners, waiting their assignments for relocation.  The rest is just empty spaces, a sea of carpet and long blank walls.  It has quickly become a race track and a gymnastics mat.

The two older girls are now in their new rooms, after each room was cleaned out with walls puttied and paint touch up.  The youngest was to be introduced to her own room last night.  I pulled the crib out of the garage but could not find the corresponding bolts.  I drove to Walmart late last night to buy the required bolts, light bulbs and a baby monitor.  I was delayed in returning home because I was caught up looking at flat screen tvs in the electronics department.  I found my dream tv but it was $1,300.00 and 55 inches. 

I returned home after 10:00pm to discover that the bolts I purchased were a half inch too long.  SO, I had to squeeze the baby's temporary bed back into our room and set it up again.  I get to do one of my very favorite things in life today!!! (insert sarcasm here) I get to return something to the store.  I need to exchange the bolts.  Arghgh.

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Funny Email - Failures

This is from an email I received detailing funny failures.  Here are three of the pictures that I can post and not worry about my children seeing.

Thats great I think everyone should have both a DRAEM and a DERAM!  Too many people just have DREAMS these days.

Life is tough.  It is even tougher if you're stupid!

I think this is why Winn Dixie went out of business.

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Quip's Corner - My Savior

Through dusty paths of olive grove and over hillsides of grass and stone
Along the shores of fishing boats and drying nets of twisted rope

The beggar and the child alike, the blind man who regained his sight
My Savior walked the paths of men, from God, with love, my Lord was sent

His voice was soft, of tender speech to children gathered at his feet
No respecter of persons, a love undefiled, he cried for the children, the pure and the mild

Blessed wine for all and broke the unleavened, He taught the humble the principles of heaven
Cleansing the temple, turning tables asunder, He spoke of authority as if in a voice of thunder

Heavy ladened by sin for an ignorant world, he suffered alone until victory was assured
A betrayal contrived from hate and pride, with mocking scorn, a trial of lies

A crown of thorns and wooden beam, my savior hung for all, with no esteem
A tomb, the housing for mortal cover, his body laid while loved ones suffered

Three days, the dead, new life, was given, A vacant tomb, my Lord had risen
As a gift to all, he conquered death, so we might too be given breath

Taken up from death with power above, to reign in truth, in justice and love!

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Beginnings - The Cabin

The wind was distant, a moan through trees tops and over bare and exposed outcroppings of rock. With the sun long forgotten, the darkness encroached from the forest on hands and knees across the yellowed winter meadows towards the weathered and decaying cabin. The chill slipped in between the cracks in the clap board walls with a whisper. It curled and twisted across the dirt floor, licking at the heat from the cast iron stove, looking for vulnerability and weakness. It settled in pockets around discarded boots and crouched in dusty forgotten corners.

The two room cabin was shrouded in shadows. As evening approached, the darkness within the walls of the decrepit structure deepened. A lone shutter, cracked and brittle from exposure to the elements, swung slowly on a single hinge, anticipating the change in the weather.

The door to the tiny cabin, left to rest against its frame without restraint, bumped and creaked in protest as the breezes from the neighboring canyons became more unsettled.

A cracked and faded tea kettle, sitting squarely upon the surface of the stove, began to protest in a high thin whine, as the water inside bubbled and steamed. On a small square table, next to the stove, placed in hurried preparation, sat a bottle and a measured spoon of powdered milk, drawn from a gallon can on the floor.

A shallow pole corral and wooden wind break, sheltering misshapened stacks of split firewood sat fifty feet from the small living structure. From behind the corral, the ground sloped upwards to meet a thick tree line of lodgepole pines. The family axe had fallen and been left in the dirt surrounding the shelter, its neglected blade still embedded in the heart of a wide log.

The growing wind blew through the thin shelter of the windbreak, picking up the corner of a faded piece of red material and whipping it about.

The movement of her apron caused the women, spread prostrate on the ground, to convulse. Her eyes, crusted with drying blood from the crescent shaped wound on her scalp, flickered dimly. Slowly, as if in a moment of clarity, one bony hand stretched out across her body in halted gait, through the dirt and weeds, towards the cabin, fading in the growing dusk. A frantic and guttural cry of desperation burst through cracked lips. The cry rose to a thin painful whine and was carried away in the gusting wind. Her body convulsed again and the fingers of the hand, reaching for the welcome shelter of the cabin, dug deeply into the earth before shuttered momentarily and falling limp.

From within the bowels of the cabin, a baby coughed. As she stretched and stirred, the baby made inquiring gurgles. She soon became more alert and her eyes widened in the darkened silence. Her gurgles became sharper, more frantic, squawks. Then, in the emptiness of the solitary cabin, the baby began to cry.

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Quip's Corner - Plans Unfulfilled

I wanted the smile to last forever
I wanted a lifetime of holding hands
Your touch brightened the darkest day
And lifted the heart of this tired man

We planned for old age together
Planned the trips, the projects, the lazy days
You were to be my support and my ally
The one to accept and encourage my crazy ways

You weren’t to go before the sun had set
The doctors, the beds and the pain
This wasn’t what we saw when at first we met
Where is the splashing barefoot in the rain

What am I supposed to do now
Where is the color in my dreams
When will you lean near and tell me how
To live, move on, to encourage me to breathe

I lie in bed, looking blankly at the wall
Listening to the crippling silence of the house
I am alone now and life promises nothing at all
For indeed I have lost my partner and my spouse!

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Dreamin'

Here is a beauty that I found on EBay.  It is an American Made Fender Jazz Bass with an Antique Cherry Sunburst body and a special ordered maple neck and fingerboard with bronzed pearl block inlays!!!!!

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My Movie Vault

Just thought that I would share.........
The following are three older, guilty pleasure, lazy afternoon, popcorn movies that I love!!

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Number 5 is growin' up

She appears to resemble a Jackman, poor thing!

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Quip's Corner - Splash Splash

The lemon yellow mountains sink into the rippled blueberry sea.
Without a whisper, She leapt from the daydream, intent upon scaring me.

Tied by the feet to ideals instructed, floating face first in reality obstructed.
Screaming for joy and laughing in pain, led by the nose until one slides down the drain.

The glassed rectangles of a speeding train provides a blurred perspective.
But her council’s clear, “Don’t look at all” is usually the preferred directive.

Can one awake from decisions gone awry and jump from the maker’s frame.
Treading water in that azure ocean as air seeps slowly from the brain.

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Geddy receives a new look!

My Geddy Lee wish list bass has a new look!  Along with the classic black and white bass that Geddy and Dad play, Fender has now released the Geddy Lee Signature Artist Jazz Bass in a tri-colored sunburst.  It still has the maple fingerboard and the beautiful block inlay, in the style of the classic fender's 1970's jazz basses.  This new look is similar in body colors to Dad's classic Fender jazz bass, making it extra special!!!  Still on the top of my list of toys to acquire before I expire!!!

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It is Friday

I had the pleasure of cuddling my youngest daughter in the shower this morning, watching her reaction to the warm water, trying to eat the streams as it sprayed past her face and watching the tiny drops of spray collect on her cheeks, chin and forehead. The trick was to hold on to the slippery thing with one hand as you soap her body with the other. Interacting with her is definitely one of the sweetest joys in life and a tremendous escape and distraction from the weight of life. I felt the loss as I handed her off to her equally sweet mother, over the shower door, to a waiting towel with a hood. She was dressed by the time I was out.

I was able to get the shelves installed and caulked in the basement bathroom last night and put in the majority of the braces in the basement closet near what I have been calling the kitchen (it consists of a 6X8 corner of the game room containing a fridge and microwave) I miscalculated the amount of wood needed for the braces in the two closets and found myself one board short. I have already stopped by Home depot and picked up an additional board. I will have it in this weekend. My son#2 helped me cut the shelves from a longer board by holding one end as I cut along my line with the circular saw. He is a wonderful boy, such a spirit of willingness to help. I love and appreciate them all dearly! They certainly take after their mother in goodness. I am blessed beyond my station by the spirits surrounding me. God must have figured that this might be my only chance to survive.

The basement project is into its seventh month. I look at it now and see, (1) all the things that I messed up or didn't do well, (2) all the things that go into this project that I fortunately didn't think about when I took it on, (3) the wonderful evenings of framing with my son#1, who worked without complaint as my "go get this, hold this, put that there, stack all the 2x4's as I send them through the basement window" assistant. I love him. He has become a good and responsible young man. I admire him in so many ways.

So, braces in the basement kitchen closet, the actual shelves in the same closet, caulking them in and caulking the baseboards in the entire basement. I can just taste the caulk now.

I am very grateful for my employment. That being said, my job is as painful today to be involved with as I have ever experienced. I dread the very thought of it. I may, though, just be very lazy. Who knows, it may just be any job and not specifically this one. I smile through it and try for the best. You just do it.

I admire my dad and brothers. They are so smart and such hard workers. They have passion for what they do. They are successful. I enjoy my association with them. They are wonderful friends.

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As the fates conspire - Life on Display 2.0

Well it has taken a few days but here goes my personal therapy session.

Lets start last night....

Son#1 - ankle is still broken and still swollen. He is scheduled to have the cast installed this afternoon but only if the swelling is down..who knows.

Son#2 - Decided to cruise through the neighborhood on his scooter yesterday after school, jumped a curb, or should I clarify, almost completely cleared the curb, launched himself onto his wrist! He now has no wrist. It goes shoulder, forearm, palm, fingers. Swollen and tender....Heaven help me!

Daughter#2 - Yesterday morning she decided that oxygen was optional and began dropping her oxygen saturations to the 70's ( this is not good ) the doctor had us rush her in where they monitored her and gave her medications until she was low but stable. We were then sent home with three medications. She then chose to drop back into the 70's later that night. Heidi sat up with her, giving her breathing treatments and holding the oxygen in her nose. She does not like the oxygen and does not understand why she needs it so she pulls it off at every possible occasion. With the treatments and the oxygen we maintained sats in the low 80's.

Daughter#1 - While we were attending to daughter#2, daughter#1 got up at around 2:00 AM and proceeded to throw up all over the faux wood floor in the front entry way, all over the back of the hall toilet and eventually in the hall toilet. She was then cleaned up and placed on one of the couches in the family room. She has since thrown up into a bucket every twenty to thirty minutes from the couch. Heidi brought daughter#2 to the family room from where they were sitting on the floor of her bedroom and set themselves against the apposing couch from daughter#1. This included the oxygen tubes and the pulse oximeter. Base camp was then officially declared in the living room. Heidi, having had a stomach ach for a day or two, began having significant stomach cramping while on the floor in the middle of the night. I gave Heidi the baby to feed at about 4:30AM and then I took her back into the bedroom to go back to sleep with me.

Son#1 was last seen teetering up the school steps with his crutches, a backpack of books on his back and a plastic grocery sack hanging from one arm rest of the crutch. He squeezed through a closing door and was gone.

Son#2 gingerly picked up his own school luggage and walked to school.

Daughter#1, daughter#2 and Mom#1 where left in unceremonious piles on the floor and couch of the family room.

Daughter#3 was still asleep in my bed when I left but was stirring and should have been wanting attention by the time I drove away.

I am FINE, thanks for asking.

I am however looking into adoption options for me. Other families who are well and might be in the market for a 38 year old bald fat man.

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