OH POOH !

This is a bit of writing I did before I starting the blog. I recently submitted it to the Tacoma Tribune for consideration as a guest columnist, but unfortunately was not selected. Enjoy.

Everywhere I turned the last two days I was stepping in it. I mean literally up to my ankles in pooh. I stopped by my daughter Sarah’s yesterday, after going to the dump, to get a little starter for the compost pile. The heifer was in a stall in the barn and Mercy Cow, its mother, was in the front pasture so I backed the truck into the cattle shed where these two poop machines had made generous deposits. I drove home and unloaded the treasure. It mixed well in my compost heap but I found that for the rest of the day everything smelled and tasted like pooh.
Today I went back to Sarah’s to watch the demise of their heifer, only to find myself up to my ankles in pooh. Keith (of Keith’s Custom Slaughter, Tire Store and Funeral Home) had shot the poor critter and dragged it from the stall. About twenty minutes into the removal of the beast’s leather coat it began to rain and I stepped into the stall but forgot to look down. The term “pooped” is a nautical one that refers to water coming over the gunnels of a boat and onto the deck or into the hold. I had on low cut shoes and got pooped in the stall.
I drove home to find that Larry from the septic sucking service was draining the last remains from my septic tank. Larry said it was quite full. I am guessing it was the result of my preparation for a recent colonoscopy. There is never good news when you have a septic system, so I was not surprised to hear Larry say solids had leaked into the liquid portion of the double tank. It seems there was a crack at the bottom of the wall that separates the two halves. He said he could fix it for a mere $700.00. I immediately found my shoes soiled again. He applied the defibulator all septic sucking services must carry in their trucks and when I regained consciousness he said I could fix it myself. It would entail climbing into the tank with a bucket of concrete and shoving the concrete into the void between the two tanks. Being no dummy and already finding myself unfit to associate with most of the human race, I decided to do the deed myself.
I obtained the required premixed concrete from the Home Despot. The clerk at the checkout made a funny face when I paid so I spoke to her in French. She seemed to understand completely. I got home and attempted to climb into the tank only to find the ladder I was using took up most of the room. (That’s another ways of saying my ass was too big to fit in the hole). I quickly built a skinnier ladder and climbed into the tank only to find the septic sucking service leaves about ten percent of the waste in the bottom of the tank. Its starter poop. Yea just like sourdough. Pooped again!
You have to understand I am, under some situations, quite claustrophobic. It all stems from my youth when my older brother used to torment me by holding my wrists and sitting on my chest while dripping slobber onto my forehead. Climbing into the tank took a lot of effort but the repair was successfully completed. Barbara threw away all my clothes.
When A.A. Milne wrote the adventures of Winnie the Pooh, he should have talked to me first. He would have chosen a different name for the bear.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

The Most Effective Birth Control...Nudity

Barbara and I recently spent a couple of weeks on vacation in South America. My daughter and her family live on one of the upper floors of a high rise in Cartagena Columbia. The front of the building faces Cartagena Bay. Between the building and the bay is a busy street and walking path that goes all the way from the end of the spit to the naval base near town. Lots of people use the path, from early in the morning to late at night. No matter what time of day you will find walkers, joggers, skateboarders and any number of maids out walking the family snack (dog). The climate is tropical, which means it is warm all year. Most people dress casually; some are more casual than others. One of the regulars on the path was an older man who wore no shoes, no hat, and no shirt.

Yes, it was EL SPEEDO. This man has proven my theory that the best form of birth control over the age of 40 is nudity. El Speedo obviously thought he was the most alluring specimen on the path. Distracting yes, alluring no. The man should have been cited for failing to maintain his property. Perhaps you have seen the website about the people at Wal-Mart. This guy would have made the hall of fame. He came in way ahead of the two old guys I saw at Playa Blanca who were wearing thongs. Most people think thongs are modern swimwear attire. We had them when I was a kid. You could get one anytime an older and larger kid or brother pulled your whitey tighteys up over your shoulders. We called them wedgees. Let’s hope El Speedo doesn’t buy a thong. Thanks for listening. I feel much better.

The Best Way To Get Around

Cartagena Colombia is a city of about a million people. Paved roads appear to be an after thought which are crowded with all kinds of public transportion; being driven by hundreds of people who have never had a driving lesson. Traffic laws appear to be actually traffic suggestions. Stop signs exist to help the guy selling coffee and gum have some place to lean against. Honking is a way of life. The taxis honk to let you know they are available. The following photos are an overview of the way people get around.

Taxis are everywhere. I think that perhaps at one time there were lanes actually painted onto the pavement but since no one pays any attention to them they were never repainted when they wore out. There is a beggar on one of the streets who has dug a hole and patches it with sand from a small bucket and then asks the cars stopped at the light to pay him for patching he hole he dug.

Motor cycles are a major form of transportation. If a cyclist has a vest with a number on the back he is actually operating a motor cycle taxi.
The burro is a common version on the American pickup truck. I have seen the pathetic burros pulling a cart load of rebar, paint and cement along with four or five Colombians
Water taxis take people from the city to a nearby island. They park just offshore (no dock) and a crew member give the rider a piggy back ride to the boat.

This is a taxi motor cycle and a city bus. The guy standing in the doorway yells at people on the sidewalk telling them where the bus is going. There are no real bus stops. You wave at a bus and it will stop, even if its on an inside lane. The bus driver honks continually letting people know he will stop and pick them up.

LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BIRD

I’m just waiting for the flames to die down so I can clean up the kitchen a little. You are probably all saying the same thing, “Frank cooks?” Yes I do and contrary to the opinions of my children who one time endured an experiment with sweet and sour tuna fish and that one time I fixed corn pancakes I am a very good cook.
Barbara and I are spending Thanksgiving home alone, just the two of us. That has not happened in our entire married life. I think the rest will be good for both of us. We had invited the usual suspects but had to tell them they were on their own after Barbara's surgery. Lots of people have invited us to share the meal with them but we decided it would be better to have a quiet day at home.
The last time I had Thanksgiving without any family was in 1963 in Grenoble France. The French are, for the most part, ungrateful; so Thanksgiving has not spilled into their endless list of national holidays. Turkeys on the other hand are also ungrateful, but available only around Christmas. You can find them in the shop windows, hanging by their feet with head and feathers still attached. They don’t seem to mind the indignity. They hang there with the rabbits, quail, ducks and geese. It’s kind of like a barnyard on a hook but the animals are very quiet.
In 1963, my missionary companion Elder Hollinger from Panaca Nevada and I decided we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving and get a turkey. We rode our Lambretta motor scooter 20 kilometers out of Grenoble and in a little village called Morrin we found a turkey at a farm house. It cost us 64 francs ($15.00) and weighed 8.5 kilos. The old farm woman put it in a feed sack and I held onto it while Elder Hollinger drove back to town. Unfortunately, someone cut us off and he drove into the ditch. I fell off but managed to hang on to the bird. I must have been some sight. A slightly stupid looking Mormon missionary wearing a suit, white shirt and tie and lying in a ditch with both arms wrapped around a turkey in a dirty feed sack. The turkey survived. Since it was only the 15th of November, we took the bird back to our apartment and tied it up in the bathtub. We fed it until the fateful day and I dispatched it with grace and a flick of the wrist. Dinner that year was mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, and the toughest turkey I have ever eaten.
This year I am thinking that a couple of KFC two piece meals would be really good. I’ll make my own cranberry sauce.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

Keep Off the Roof

My wife Barbara has been suffering from a prolapsed disk in her lumbar spine for the last two months. The pain has been constant and sometimes quite severe. Last Tuesday I took her into the ER at our local hospital and they admitted her and immediately put her on morphine which eased the pain somewhat. Wednesday afternoon she underwent successful surgery to release the pressure from the disk on the nerve root to her left leg. The surgery appears to have successful and she is recovering nicely. Her doctor told her the injury was caused by old age.

A few weeks ago a good friend fell of the roof of his shed and was badly injured. He has spent a few weeks in a rehab center and I understand he has now returned home.
Today I found out that our former Stake President fell off a ladder yesterday while trying to clean his roof and suffered a concussion, two broken ribs, and a torn lung. In addition I find that another friend was just released from the hospital because of another medical problem. All are about the same age.

I have decided that sometimes bad news just needs another vehicle of delivery.Let me give you an example

Larry, a single guy with a cat, asked his friend Bob to watch his house and the cat for a few weeks while he was out of town. Bob said he would be glad to do so and Larry told him he would call every week to see how thing were going.
Larry called at the end of the first week and asked “How is everything?” Bob said, “Fine except your cat died.” Larry was terribly distraught but pulled himself together and said, Bob, you don’t just tell someone their cat died like that. It’s too brutal. You should say that the cat fell off the roof and it’s not doing well. You should have me call back and each day say that the cat is worse and then after a few days you can tell me that the cat died. That way it will soften the blow.” Bob said, “I understand, I guess I could have been a little more tactful. “Great” said Larry “I will call you next week.”

The next week Larry called again and asked “How is everything?” Bob answered; ”Fine except your mother fell off the roof.”

Thanks for listening, I feel much better. (And so does Barbara)

HEAVEN MAY BE DIFFERENT THAN YOU THINK

My very good friend Bentley (his first name is really Alan but just Bentley sounds so much more English Upscale) has informed me that although we both believe in a life hereafter ,and can achieve some sort of immortal glory based on our works on earth when we die; as we await the great resurrection, he believes we will be assigned to a temporary place in heaven according to our last and final dying words here on earth.
Yes, until the resurrection, we will be with all those other people who said the same thing we did when they died. Here are the categories ranked in order of most said to least said.
Oh s—t.
Hey watch this.
I’m not drunk; I’ll drive myself.
I can drive, talk on my cell and text at the same time. Watch.
The guns not loaded, see.
I wasn’t cheating on you. Put down the gun.
I’m fine. I make a doctor’s appointment next week.
If one pill will work, a whole bunch must be even better
No big deal. It’s not 220 Volts is only 110
What’s this bare wire for?
No I don’t think 92 is too old to be driving.
Sure the water is cold but I can swim to shore.
Lets cross here; the crosswalk is too far down the street.
If I throw up every time I eat, I won’t gain any weight.
I don’t feel good.
Good bye, I love you all.
Oops!
Huh?

I on the other hand, I believe that I will get to use my “Bank Time” when I get to heaven’s gate. I will be met by one of those guys that checks recommends at the temple, who will look for a long time at his computer screen and say “Well brother Frank it looks like you lived a pretty good life but there were a few sour deeds in your life for which you will need to spend 952 hours in Hell before being assigned to one of the above mentioned categories. At that point I will whip out my little black “Bank Time” book and explain that I spent many more hours than that in faculty meetings, PTA meetings, elementary school concerts, children’s Sacrament Meeting programs, parent- teacher conferences, Blue and Gold dinners, eating freeze dried food on week- long hikes, owning a 1985 Chrysler New Yorker, and preparing for my last colonoscopy. I will tactfully explain that I have already spent that time in Hell and have documents to prove it. I recommend that each of you keep track as well.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better

The Office

Sometime towards the end of September, I got a call from the Human Resources department of State Farm Insurance. They asked if I would be willing to come back to work for sixty days, they were shorthanded and honestly, it was flattering to be considered a good enough employee to be asked back. I figured what the heck, work for sixty days and be able to fly to Cartagena Columbia first class to visit Emily and her family or sixty days home detention.
The first problem was HR. My assigned rep. Bea Esser said that because I had been retired so long I would have to take a drug test and pass a background check. She said she would send me the paperwork overnight. Two days later it got to me. She sent it FedEx to the wrong address and wrong name. Three day delay. I finally got a call three weeks after she first called andlearned I was cleared to come to work. Obviously they did not speak with my parole officer Willy Bolt. After I had been working for two weeks, I got a letter from the medical specialist Lou Pole saying that my retirement package health insurance was being cancelled because I was a full time worker. The only problem was that I was actually listed as a seasonal employee and not qualified for any benefits. I called and spoke to Donatello Nobatti who told me a mistake had been made and he would take care of it. I am still waiting for the confirmation of reinstatement by mail. Actually, I am entitled to work 900 hours a year before it impacts any of my retirement benefits. Those responsible have been sacked.

I cannot watch “The Office” on TV because it is too much like where I work. The above photo is the row where my cubicle is located. I say cubicle but in reality they should be called rabbit hutches. Feed and water are provided in little bins on the side of each cube. If management feels rewards are in order, food appears in a vacant cube or at the end of the row. There are four rows just like this in my office. The managers, pit bosses and stat freaks have partitioned booths at the end of the rows. The big boss, Dan Defino, has a corner office with windows. Speaking of the big boss, there was a ‘Stand Up Meeting” a couple of days ago where we were all given a pat on the back for rendering exceptional customer service. I looked around at the group and immediately picked out the current office suck-up. Luke Howard Fitzhugh had on the exact same shirt and tie, pants and shoes as the Big Boss. Obviously someone is looking for a promotion. My guess is that he has already reached his level of competence and should be promoted to a management position within days. Holly Unlikely, the trainer said she did not think the promotion would come until after National Bosses Day. Something about gifting.

The Office is just like the classes I taught for thirty years. There are slow learners, those that don’t play well with others and those who parents need to read to them 90 min each day. There are those who try to cheat and manipulated the computer system to show they do more work that they actually do. One example is the electronic phone message. If you return a call you are suppose to use the pull down menu to add your name as the one who returned the call. Since I am a trouble maker, I pull a lot of those messages, make the call and then give credit to anyone of a half a dozen adjusters who I think could use the points. It really kills the manager’s stats. I think I’ll change my name to Dale Neverknow.

Most days I really enjoy it, but there are a few days where upon leaving the office I quote Martin Luther King Jr. “Free at last, free at last, Thank God I’m free at last.
Thanks for listening. I feel much better