The Sad Saga of Door to Door Sales

Daddy would buy anything sold door to door.  He probably would have bought a helicopter had a salesman shown up and offered one on a no-money-down, three-year-payment plan.  He bought waterless cookware.  It was supposed to cut cooking time, save money and increase Mother’s effiency. He was all for anything that made Mother more organized. I guess it never occurred to him a string of babies and unending farm and house work might be a factor.

When the vacuum salesman came around, Daddy didn’t feel he could afford the new model, so he bargained for the used model the salesman had taken in trade on his rounds that morning.  The purchase probably saved the guy a trip to the dump. The salesman jimmied with it enough to get it running that day, but it never started again.  I don’t believe that helped Mother’s organization or her attitude a bit.  The good news was, the salesman took five dollars cash, and Mother was to send payments afterwards.  The good news was, Mother never sent a payment, which meant the guy only beat them out of five bucks.

We also had the only house distinguished by lightning rods on the roof.  The theory was, the lightning would strike the rod, rather than the roof.  The charge was to follow  a metal cable downward, where it would be grounded.  The lightning rods might have been an the answer to a prayer had Daddy not bought a remote-controlled television antenna which  was probably twenty feet taller than the model that came with the TV from the next guy who knocked on the door.  He enjoyed trying to find the best reception for a month or two until the antenna was struck by lightening.  The charge ran down the wire, melted a hole in metal TV case and fried the vacuum tubes.  Sadly, it also blew out the works in the beautiful ship lamp that came with the TV and melted its lovely red cellophane windows.  I was kind of glad when the antenna motor blew out since Daddy spent a lot of time adjusting it, limiting our viewing pleasure. We were frequently sent outdoors a lot to let him know if it was moving while he adjusted.  I never could tell when it moved, so I just gave random answers.  I don’t know why it gave him so much trouble.

 

to be continued

The Great Buttocolypse and the creation of “John Stomas”

What a woman! My niece, Natalie!

Nataliemccarty's avatarNataliesJourney

They say “If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at”? I’m not quite sure who “They” are but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it said a million times. I would like to give my entire family and extended family credit for the humor flowing through my veins. Especially in the most difficult of times. Humor has always been my family’s go to coping mechanism in any circumstance. Usually, at the most inappropriate times, but I guess that all depends on who is deeming the moment inappropriate.

As you can see from the title, there’s a story here, mixed with that morbid humor that I can’t seem to avoid in any situation. I am going to share one of my most vulnerable and life altering moments with you. I hope that by sharing this I can help at least one person get through a health issue that they…

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Ralphie Gets Tripped Up

imageDaddy got another phone call from Ralphie, the kid down the road.

“Mr. Bill?”

“Hey, Ralphie. What’s going on?”

“I wrote a poem at school and won a contest.” (On his last phone call, Ralphie had reported making all D’s and F’s and having the papers to prove it)

“Well, that’s great, Ralphie! I’m glad you’re doing better at school.”

“I won first at my school, then at district. But when they took it to state, the judge said it came out of World Book and they threw it out.”

“Well, why did they do that?

“Because it came out of World Book. Bye”

Like a Pig in Slop

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

pig in slopRalphy was a quirky kid who lived just down the road from us.  When he was eight or nine, he’d call on the phone, asking to speak to Daddy.  We were always interested in hearing what he had to say.

“Mr. Bill?”

“Yeah, what’s on your mind today, Ralphy?”

“My mama just bought some of that new White Cloud Bathroom Tissue.  You should come try it!  Bye.”

Another call:

“Mr. Bill?”

“Yeah, Ralphy.  How are you today?”

“Fine.  I just got my report card.  I had all D’s and F’s.”

“No, Ralphy!  Surely not!”

“Yep, and I’ve got the papers to prove it!  Bye!”

Next call:

“Mr. Bill?”

“Hey, Ralphy.  What’s going on?”

“I wrote a poem in school today.  Want to hear it?”

“Why sure!”

“Rabbits love cribbage and cabbage.

Pigs love slibbage and slobbage.”

“That’s good, Ralphy.  What did you make on it?”

“An F.  It was supposed…

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Monday Funnies… — Chris The Story Reading Ape’s Blog

via Monday Funnies… — Chris The Story Reading Ape’s Blog

Burn Baby, Burn

Sometimes Bud can be difficult.  One lovely day, we both headed outdoors.  I had my work.  He had his.  I busied myself, digging, shoveling sand, putting out flagstones. Meanwhile, he pottered about at some uninteresting task of his own, never even asking if I needed help. After putting the last touches  on my patio, I went for the water hose.  I felt smug at finding it stretched across the backyard, since he’s always after me about winding it back up, barely letting me finish what I’m doing. Nevertheless, I pulled it back around to my new flower bed.  Bud had even left the water on, just shut off by the adapter.  That wasn’t like him at all.  I’d have to mention it when I got through.

It wasn’t long before Bud tore around the corner yanking the hose, clearly in a panic. Rudely, he grabbed the hose and took off, not even asking whether I was finished. I followed and found him spraying a pile burning yard refuse that had almost gotten away from him. It turns out, he’d had the water hose nearby just in case and hadn’t noticed when me taking it when he’d turned away to pile on more brush. Fortunately, he got the blaze under control. Unfortunately, not before it consumed the nice sweeper he’d disconnected from his tractor and left near the pile. He’s much more careful with the new one he bought to replace it and thoughtfully tells me when he’s about to burn, now.

My project certainly turned out better than his.

 

Bunny Blow Out

Nataliemccarty's avatarNataliesJourney

It’s a beautiful Easter Sunday Morning here in our small town. I’m currently enjoying a cup of coffee on my front porch, replaying the mornings events in my head.

Easter has always been one of my favorite Holidays since childhood. I have many fond memories from trying to catch the Easter bunny in action to remembering one of my favorite gifts ever received in my basket. A paper doll book.

Things have changed a lot since I was five. I have a deep appreciation for my parents now, especially looking back now being a parent myself (to five great kids). They were always ahead of the Holiday Game.

I’m still not convinced that my parents weren’t given some kind of super stealth ninja powers that allowed them to carry out all of the many holiday surprises without breaking a sweat or ever getting busted by my siblings and I.

I…

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Easter with the Family

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

I am the barefoot girl standing in the back row. Mother made me wear a dress, since it was Easter. By the time this photo was made, I’d been playing football with my cousins. Two buttons were missing from my new blouse, finished it only that morning. The hem of my skirt was dragging. Needless to say, Mother was not pleased.
Eater egg hunts with my cousins were a lot more like cage boxing than gentle competitions. I am sure I fit right in. I had more than forty first cousins, mostly wild animals. By the time my aunts and uncles herded them to the scene of the Cousins on Christmascrime, they just opened the car doors and all Hell broke loose. Exhausted from defending themselves and the babies on the ride over, it was every man for himself. God help anybody in the way.

They’d rip through the house under the…

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Sunday Meditations

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

imageThe Swains lined the third pew from the front on the right side of the church.  Daddy insisted on it.  I might be a better person today if I’d gotten to sit on the back pew and write notes and giggle with my friends.  I had a lot of time over the years to study those in front of me, the only thing that kept me from going bonkers during the long service.

Brother Deck, an ancient deacon sat in the middle of the front pew, wearing ancient suits, heavy black, wool in winter and gray gabardine in summer.  The gabardine had been pressed so much it was thin and shiny.  Should it be hot enough for him to remove his jacket, we were treated to a view of a gray, gabardine wedgie, which somehow, he never seemed to notice, though I was always puzzled at how he could tolerate…

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