I am a PIRATE!

I really am.
I can prove it.
I have pictures and everything.

Its goes like this.
My parents own a pontoon boat, and really, for being nothing more than a floating floor it is a lot of fun.
we would go up and tow it to one of the lakes, float around a bit, splash, fish and get sunburned.
Fun time for all.
It was a floating floor with a motor.
The motor was sporadic.
My family believes in the buddy system.
If something is broke, or someone is hurt you call around to all your buddies to seek advice.
Invariably someone knows someone or your buddy goes green when he sees that your thumb is actually split in half and you get to get something fixed, or go to the ER.
I absolutely despise the buddy system.
Hate it.
Nothing ever gets fixed right when its a buddy doing the fixing, and a buddy of a buddy? Even worse. They always cut corners.
And waiting 6 hours with a split in half thumb to go to the ER, sucks.
So the tooners motor was a bit sporadic, sometimes it works, sometimes it dont.
This is how I became a Pirate, so I cant really complain.
It makes a fun story.
As a side note, its an odd thing how the things that make me the maddest are what make others laugh the hardest? Its a flaw in me.
anyways.
The wife and I had it down to a science, the unloading of the boat. I would back it in, she would hop in the tooner, I would chuck in the kids and the victuals and then push off the boat, jump into the truck and park the truck and the trailer.
Wife would motor around to the dock and I would step on and off we would go.
Smooooooth.
Putting the tooner away after a bright day was the reverse, motor to the dock, Tom (thats me) steps off and runs to get truck and trailer while wife motors around to pull the boat in as I back the trailer into the water.
Smoooth.
Today we had the nephews with us, good toe heads both of them. spent the whole day out getting sunburned, swearing (just me) at the lack of fish and splashing around.
It was a fantastic day.
A day of good memories.

But, storm clouds gathered and it was time to go.
So we started the routine.
Motor to dock, Tom jumps off, runs to get the truck and waits in line with all the other uber efficient types waiting to get their boats out of the rapidly roughening lake.
Problem.
I get the trailer in the water and, no tooner. No wife and kids, no nephews.
So I looked, and looked, and grabbed the binoculars from some lame fat dude and looked.
And found them.
Drifting.
Halfway across the damn lake.
No other boats around.
So.
(this is my favorite part)
I Parked the truck and the trailer and went running down to the dock, I ran to the end of the dock just as a young kid in a brand new boat was stepping on to the dock to tie his boat off.
I grabbed the rope, pushed the kid back on to the boat and hopped on after him.
"Hi, You arrrrgh going to take me out to that boat (point at the tooner) and tow it in for me."
I said this with my biggest most friendly smile
the kid and his five kid passengers sort of froze.
the kid I had gently led back on to the boat said "a a a a a are you stealing our boat?"
he stuttered, poor kid.
I said
"Oh HELL NO! I am just commandeering it"
Maybe my rollicking laughter at this point was a bit of overkill, but Hey, its what we pirates do.
By the time we got out to the tooner my hostages (ride) were getting into the spirit of the thing. The wee little boys were huddled protectively around the wee little female and casting mutinous glances in my direction. I was standing on the point of the boat, if I had had boobs I would have made a kick ass hood ornament thingy.
The wife and kids were valiantly trying to start the tooner, the toe heads were ? Paddling ? but the paddles did not quite reach the water, so really they were just splashing.
But they felt good about themselves.
The captain, the stuttering boy wonder, hollered, "AHOY THE BOAT" and I stepped gracefully on to the floating floor.
Oh the cleverness of me.
I still had his rope, which was tied to his boat.
and they were fresh out of boarding axes.
So they towed us back.
Arrrgh. I sang sea chanteys all the way home.

Pirate hat arrrgh

Cookery

I cant cook.
I failed Home economics remember?
The last time I made breakfast for the #s I used powdered something instead of powdered the other.
Then I made them eat it.
After I had screamed and yelled and forced them to eat three bites each, I sat down and took a bite.
It made me gag, which made #2 throw up, which made #1 spew, which made a mess for me to clean up.
In lieu of an actual apology, I took them to Marie Calendars.
I suck.
So when I decided to cook dinner I tried to keep it a secret.
I figured I could always tell them a neighbor brought it over and feed it to the dog if it was too bad.
But what to make?
Something simple obviously.
Toast?
With Jam?
I could always garnish (food channel word) it with canned corn.
It was a conundrum. So I Googled it.
I was directed to millions of  blogs, all about cooking. Most of them displaying food porn in abundance.
All of the recipes sounded intricate and complex.
What in the Hell is plating? Braise? Glaze?
Not in my vocabulary these words.
At least not for food.
So I looked on my phone. And found this thing called "BIG OVEN" simple recipes for families.
Done,
Under "Easy" I found a recipe for Chicken Enchiladas.
Win win.
Of to the store to buy the ingredients. (thats the food stuff)
I found it all, but I was starting to think that whomever wrote the recipe was an idiot.
oh, wait.
Whoever wrote the recipe was WRITING it for idiots! That actually just occurred to me.
Damn.
So I got all the stuff and headed home.
Then I destroyed the kitchen.

It started when I had to boil the chicken boobs.
Boiling chicken boobs is boring as Hell.
So I decided to skip to the next step whilst the mammary's were marinading.
Open the can of Cream of Mushroom and plop it into a pot, a small pot.
Open up the can Of Cream of Chicken and plop it into a pot. a big pot.
Then cover the bottom of a pan, a really big pan, with olive oil and turn it on high to cook the raw tortilla things.
Are you keeping track?
My stove thing has four burner things on top, each  of these was now occupied with a kitchen vessel full of water,fowl tits, mush,mush and oil.
Did you know that when the steam from the water and mush evaporates and drops into the boiling oil it splatters?
And it HURTS!
So, i quickly chucked  a tortilla on the oil, and started stirring the mush.
Then the boobs started boiling.
It was at this point I forgot the instructions and just started making stuff up.
Hot salsa, quickly stirred into grey mush.
Mild salsa quickly stirred into brown mush.
Flip Tortilla.
Half a can of boiling breast water into each can of mush.
Flip tortilla.
Swear break to run burned fingers under cold water.
Flip tortilla.
Colby jack cheese,  two small handfuls stirred into mushes.
Flip tortilla
Grab hot boobies, scream, drop them back into boiling cauldron of death and then grab tong things.
flip tortillas
use tongs to grab mams, shred them up
mix them into mush. 1 1/2 boobs per pot.
Throw burnt tortilla to the ground for dog.
Flip tortilla.
Find glass dish. Discard for size. Find bigger glass dish.
Turn on oven to 200.
Flip Tortilla.
Put done tortillas into dish.
Find spoon
Flip tortilla

Fill up done tortillas with mush, roll them up and put them in dish
five with hot salsa mush
five with mild salsa mush
(brown and grey)
Dump steaming water down sink.
Through the cloud of steam see lonely forgotten can of enchilada sauce.
Full Stop.
Now what?
The instructions were no help at all.
I had left them behind long ago.
So.
Improvise.
Dump can of enchilada Sauce into what is left of brown mush, bring it to a boil.
Dump it over the top of enchilada things and then cover them with shredded mexican four cheese blend bag you find in the fridge.
Turn to discover #1 and #2 staring with wide eyes at the destruction of a clean kitchen.
Sigh.
Forget about blaming neighbors.
Pop whole damn thing in the oven.
After 15 minutes turn oven to broil to melt stubborn cheese on top.
Take out of oven.
Take a deep breath.
Serve it to the three pickiest eaters on the planet.
They Loved it.
Had seconds.
And nobody got sick.
I rock.

To Fly

I dropped my children off at school this day.
Finally a beautiful spring day after a long and droopy winter.
#1 walked to the door of her school, looking so very grown up.
Breaks my heart into tiny little pieces to see her so Beautiful. Happy little pieces yes, but shattered nonetheless.

#2 starts school a little later, and gets out a little later. She explained to me yesterday that starting later is fair, "#1 has a lot more to learn there at the big school, my little school just teaches little things"
She has a point. I guess.
In true #2 fashion she also added "But we should get out of schools at the same times, Dont they knows we needs to plays together?"
She has a point.
I shall be informing the school board post-haste.
She really does talk like that, by the way. #1 talks like an adult, actually better then most adults. She far surpasses me.
#2 surpasses everyone, she speaks her own language.

I watched her this morning.
There is a small hill that slopes down to her school yard.
An asphalt track runs down it on a gentle angle, most kids just walk down the path.
Not so, #2.
I watched her today. Backlit by the rising sun.
She stood at the top of the path, saying nothing to any one. She adjusted her school bag and unzipped her coat.
Very deliberatly then, she stepped off the asphalt path.
Put her hands in her pockets, spread her wings and flew straight down the hill.
I could see her swooping and gliding, the wind blowing hard today giving her that extra height she needed to clear the curb. She used her momentum from the flight to glide in and out of the other children. Whriling and diving in and out of the cliuques and the single children, she flew circles around them all.
I saw her land perfectly at the end of a line, knees slightly bent to take the gentle shock of returning to earth.
She smiled in disdain as she slowly took her hands from her pockets and zipped her wings away.
Silly Humans.

Faster

I try to keep this blogthing fun.
Or at least entertaining.
I got to thinking last night.
About going faster.

The weekend after I got the motorcycle I have now, I went on a ride with my Cousins.
Just a short little jaunt.
I still had the salesman's admonition to "Take it Easy until She is broken in" which meant nothing over 80ish for the first 100 miles or so, ringing in my head.
So I was taking it easy.
We got to a gas station, 78 miles from home.
Not too far, about 1/2 way on our little journey.
I checked my phone.
1215 PM.
There were three missed calls from the wife.
So I called.
The reception was horrible.
I heard "Has  gone into anaphalactic shock and the ambulance is on its way" I caught number 1s name a few times so I knew it was her.
42 minutes later I walked into the Hospital and was Holding their hands when the Doc gave #1 an epi shot.
Faster.
Last night I got thinking about speed. Not just the speed at which we travel, but the speed in which we live.
SO many crises, so many things.
Faster.
Just a random little thought.
Faster.

Alligators are FUN

Nothing ever turns out the way I expected. I suspect that this is either because I expect the impossible and/or I am Gods designated one man comedy show.

A short example would be spray foam insulation.

Everyone else in the world presses the top and the foam comes out.

I had a can explode in my face and almost kill me.

This is irony.

http://colneyhatch.blogspot.com/2009/06/foam-of-death.html

It was also hilarious.

Irony.

I just remembered something.

It is a little Irony and a lot of stupidity.

You see, I lived in the south for a few years. They have alligators there. I have since learned that to alligators, we (You, humans) are nothing more or less then food.

I knew this then, but I don’t think you ever really KNOW this until some animal has tried to eat you.

Its humbling.

A friend of mine and his father owned an alligator farm.  The theory was, to raise alligators for their skins and meat. The practice was, they couldint get the right permits to sell the hides and steaks so they were just feeding them until they did.

They asked me  ”ifn I warnted to gos and feed them gators”

Of COURSE I did. Shazam! Feeding Gators! How cool is that?

It sucked.

I had no idea that in order to feed the Gators we would first have to get the gator-chow.

It comes prepackaged with feathers.

Dead Chickens.

I drove a 1 ton dump truck to 20 different farms, Egg farms, to gather up and load all of the chickens that had died that week.

A one week dead chicken that has been steaming in Alabama July for a week is an olfactory joy. If you are a rabid mentally unstable red tick coon hound.

To all other sentinent creatures it smells.

Bad.

Then off to the gator farm to feed the livestock.

Simple process, you dump the chickens and chuck them to the gators.

Did you know that when Gators get fed a lot they get big? I mean like really big? I guess an average gator is right around 8-9 feet long, these old boys were pushing twelve. They would hiss and snap and pop those chickens the way you or I would pop a grape. It was something I should probably tell my therapist about. If I had one.

Once the frenzy was over the owner, smiling wide enough that I could see his tooth, asked me If I would do just one more thing, since I was already there?

Sure. I mean, no problem Cleetus! Or whatever his name was.

He asked me ifn (is that really a word?) I would drive round the whole 12 acres and see ifn (crap) I could spot any dead gators. You gots to gets the skins offn em pretty gol-durned quick. I guess.

So, me and the kid (thats what they all called him, I am not sure ifn his name was “Kid” or he was just the youngest? he was about 45)

drove off to seek dead gators. I really wanted to find one. I had seen live gators, now I wanted to see a dead one.

Truth be told, I really wanted to touch one. I dont know why, I was very curious in my 20s.

And lo….. WE FOUND ONE! I was so excited! The kid was too, even though he didnt even blink, or smile, or move, or even glance at the dead Gator. I KNEW he was excited. Who wouldint be?!?!?

I knew it was dead because its fore legs and head were under water and its rear legs and tail were stretched up on the bank.

I watched it for 15 minutes. It didnt move, no bubbles, not a twitch. It was dead.

So I went to touch its tail.

Perfect chance, and every boys dream, touch a dead gator tail.

Just one second, what in the HELL was wrong with me?

ok.

Like I was saying, perfect chance.

I had it all planned out, I was going to saunter on down, bend, touch its tail, have the Kid snap a picture for proof and saunter back.

easy peasy.

this is the ironic part.

That stupid chicken eating reptilian ass-dodger was faking.

Faking. as in, not dead.

I bent down to touch its tail and a very small part of my brain screamed “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!!!!”

That part of my brain picked up a rock and threw it at the Gators head.

We, that part of my Brain and I, were watching the rock slowly drift through the swamp water to the gators head

and

Its jaws snapped one inch from my face.

That fast.

I jumped straight back and straight up and landed on the hood of the car.

The Gator threw itself into the water and began to thrash and roll in a circle.

I think it thought it had got me.

I sat, very quietly and contemplated the irony of the situation.

The Kid, laconic and stoic, and I thought;  Mute.

Laughed so Hard I think he did himself an injury.

Tis ironic.

A bit Chilly

THIS is my brother.
Shane.
He kicks ass.
We are only 14 or so days apart and we don't look anything at all alike, I cant figure out if my Dad is his Dad or his Dad is my Dad? Since both of our Dads would Kick my ass I am not going to ask.
Neither will Shane.
We went on the Polar Bear Ride today.
For those of youse who don't indulge in freedom,aka, motorcycle riding. I shall explain.
The PBR is when a bunch of Motor Cycles and their Riders get together in the early spring and ride their motorcycles, try to keep warm, and show the world just how freaking awesome they are.
Cows around the world dread this Day.
(think about it)
Its a bit chilly.
My Genius wife kindly informed me right before we left this morning that with wind chill added in we would be riding in approximatively -2.
My other brother Darrell has been riding this ride with me for 6 years, but he was in Canada for work.
I bet he was sad.
Although Canada does have those cool loonies and toonies......
anyways.
We left early and Shane forgot the cardinal rule about riding with Tom.
Dont Follow Tom.
NOT if you have a specific destination you want to arrive at.
I have the direction sense of a spoiled mango, I can barely feel gravity.
So we (I) got lost and we were late for the start.
Essentially we pulled up at the starting point just as the biggest group (3-400) was leaving. We had to pull in with the second group.
The second group was lame.
They were actually going the speed limit.
lame.
So when the DEMON DAMSELS passed us on the left I just tagged along.
I dont know if that was the name of their group, but they all had spiffy back patches that had a kneeling topless women on them.
They were all a bit on the large side.
One of them had a purse flying straight out behind her like a cape, she was my personal favorite.
The leader, a strapping lass, had about 6 inches of angry frozen red ass-crack showing.
She also had these weird hand signals, If I did not know any better I could have sworn she was calling to circle the wagons. Pretty sure it meant "EVIL MEN IN OUR MIDST" cause they took off.
Really Fast.
So I passed them with a cheery one finger wave and ventured ahead.
Shane pulled up next to me at this point.
He is a good brother.
We got to the Midway Point.
Lame.
We got mauled by a mascot.
I did anyway.
This stuffed eagle in a leather Jacket ran up and Hugged me.
Why?
I don't know.
But the evil characters at Disneyland want to hug me as well.
There is a pattern here.

So Shane and I pow wowed and decided to go back to my house and play rock-band.
We couldn't feel our hands or faces anyways.

So we left.
and rode back.

OK.
It was a lot more fun then that.
We were riding back, Just us.
we got passed by a Corvette. acceptable.

we got passed by a mini-van. bearable

we got passed by a chevy aveo. HELL NO!

and as the driver of the cute little aveo passed us he gave me this look, the look I have always interpreted as "Please sir, I am in need of someone smashing my face with their fist, are you available?"
So we passed him. Then the mini-van.
Then.
I saw the vette.
and he saw me.
I will spare my wife any worry by avoiding telling you, dear reader, how fast 120 feels like.
Its so cool.
The wind blowing the other direction actually made it very difficult to hold my "I am a Bad ASS" pose as I passed the vette. But hey. It hurts to be cool. :)
Then Shane pulled up next to me.
Yep.
Its good to have brothers that kick ass.

Licence to Practice

I hate going to the Doctor.
All they are going to give me is bad news, or at the very least soften the blow of bad news with a little good news.
"Yes Tom. you are broken but you have remarkable bone density for a man in his 50s"
Yeah?.? Its too bad I am 37.
It started when I dislocated my elbow. I had been on an arm wrestling binge and finished it out by loading concrete bags into a truck. Midway through a throw my elbow popped and my arm flopped uselessly on the end of a stab of pain.
Followed by more pain from laughing.
I promise, when you are throwing a 90 pound bag of concrete and completely by accident knock a fellow co-worker ass-over teakettle when it thumps him in the back, the look on his face is FUNNY!
When I recovered enough to apologize I flopped my arm in the direction of the car and had Franz drive Jared and I to the Clinic. Me, I was hoping he could just re-joint my elbow. Jared, well. Lets just say that as funny as it was, I was hoping for permanent brain damage. Sadly, he was completely OK. Which really was too bad.
 Cause I owed him money and I was hoping for at least some memory loss.
The Wife got there to sit with me and drive me home after the Doc fixed my floppy arm. It was taking a long time. Once the Doc found out that I was injured at work he discovered 3 new and previously unused machines that he just had to try.
Practicing his Medicine no doubt.
After the third life sucking torture device had been applied he came into the room and using the newest and most refined techniques on the cutting edge of medical practice, grabbed my hand and yanked.
I didn't pee myself. Just barely.
When I had recovered my composure to the point where I was able to wipe the drool off of my chin my very own self, he explained.
Doctor: Sorry about the pain, but I find its easier to just go for it. Too much talk and people have a tendency to tense up.
Me: mmmmphgahhhh
Wife: Thats ok, he is Tough. Is his elbow back into place?
Me: ackkk ackkk pthllbbbb
Doctor: Is he Ok?
Did I mention that I was drooling? From the Pain?
Dislocating was bad, relocating was 10 times worse.
The doctor did as Doctors do and pulled out a wad of test results and X-rays.
explain, explain, explain, blah blah blah blah and then the punch line....
"You know, when you construction worker types get into your 40s you really need to slow down,"
Wife:  um?
Me: achk achkkk acckhh I am 27 Asshole"
Doctor: Oh. oh my.
I guess I should not have expected much. I do look old, I realize this. Even then I did have access to a mirror. But it still stung a wee bit.
I hate going to the Doctor, they never have good news.
This past couple of years I have been developing pain. Cultivating it in my spare time. I was waiting for it to get huge enough to stand a chance of winning at the annual "Idiot Fair" Held in Des Moines.
Before I could even fill out the entry form the wife had made an appointment for me to see the Doc.
Oh well.
So I went in and gave him the litany.
It hurts here and here and here. But it really hurts here.
So, I guess they still haven't paid off the machines since I was here ten years ago. Cause they put me through all of them again. This time I got a full body deal.
Maybe there was a special?
Sitting in the waiting room with The Wife, waiting for the Doctor.
No doubt he was in the hall, practicing.
After an hour or six of waiting he comes in with enough paperwork and X rays that he apparently needed three assistants to help him carry it.

The Doc and Larry, Moe and Shemp crowded around the room and looked at me.
Waiting for Curly.
Curly arrived with a tray.
The music switched from calming new age to an ominous techno beat.
Before any one could say anything I blurted into the semi-silence
 "I am only 37"
silence.
The Doc and the stooges appeared flummoxed.
The Doc Cleared his adenoids and began...
"Did you play pro-football?"
um, no.
"Do you play competitive Rugby?"
HAH! no.
"Have you been in a high speed motorcycle or car accident in which you were ejected from the vehicle?"
um, not that I remember.
"Ummmmmm."
and they all looked at each other. Glances of concern from the stoodges and a worried little crease appearing on the doctors botoxed brow...
"You appear to be very healthy. Its just that."
and a very long pause.
"Well, to put it bluntly, You have the body of a retired rodeo clown."
I hate Doctors.