Say It Isn't So


          Recently Lorraine donated two dollars to the Arbor Day Foundation. They use the money to do something with trees. (If you need to know, look it up.) For this donation, she received eleven trees. Not very big trees, just little sticks actually, about twelve to fifteen inches tall, not counting the roots. So of course, we had to plant these ‘free’ trees, which took eight pots. The instructions told us that we could not use any kind of enhanced soil but had to use plain dirt. That created a problem. In our yard, we have dirt that somebody brought in to fill some raised, and the rest of the yard contains natural dirt, or the dirt that came with the lot. That dirt is good for growing sagebrush and a few other deserty type things like juniper trees.

     I didn’t want to rob soil from the raised beds, and I knew better then try and use our natural soil, which left me having to go and---get this---buy dirt. For a person who grew up on a farm where if we needed dirt we could just dip in a shovel anywhere we happened to be and get all the dirt we might want, this idea was traumatic.

However, I sucked it up and went down to Lowes to buy dirt. I thought, it’s good the folks can’t see this latest development in my life. They would have laughed themselves silly, and certainly would not have told anybody about what their boy was doing. The embarrassment would have been substantial.

     I walked into the Lowes Garden Center and asked a clerk, “Where do you keep your dirt?” She looked at me for a couple heartbeats to make sure I was real, then waved an arm toward a wall of pallets and bags of stuff and said, “If we have dirt, it would probably be over there someplace.”

     Being a good clerk and evidently curious, she lead me over to this wall of bags and helped me look for dirt. Either that or she was afraid to leave this crazy person alone in her department. Take your pick.

     We found seventeen kinds of potting soil, with ingredients including chemicals, manure, fertilizers, and other additives that would need a chemist to decipher.

     Then there were ten different kinds of top soil, all with added chemicals, plus manure from various animal species, some named, and some left to the imagination.

     Then there were several kinds of straight manure. Steer Manure being the most prevalent. I wanted to ask this sales clerk if she was sure that the manure in these bags actually only came from animals that had been relieved of their sperm producing equipment. Or was there perhaps some manure in there from other male bovines who were still in possession of their sperm producing equipment, or from some who were never going to be relieved of---well---we’ve been over that, or heaven forbid, some manure from cows. However, I kept my thoughts to myself, as she didn’t look like the kind of person to become voluntarily involved in a technical conversation about manure.

     Then there were all sorts of lawn and garden enhancing fertilizers. All promised to make stuff grow and make your yard look like the south lawn of the White House.

     Finally, we found some plain Top Soil. As much as I looked, I could not find any additives. It looked to be just plain dirt, although with the up-market name of Top Soil. That name allowed these people to sell this dirt for $2.89 for two cubic feet of this stuff.

     I thought, “Someplace there is a farmer who is so financially strapped that he’s selling his farm for $2.89 a bag full. Of course, the poor farmer is probably only getting $.35 out of the $2.89.

So I went home to plant eleven free sticks, with almost six dollars worth of dirt that I, (did I mention this?) HAD TO PURCHASE. Depressing.

Beware of Those Fajitas
     According tot he AP, a man in New Jersey is suing a restaurant. Why? Here is what happened. He ordered a plate of fajitas. You know, those things that come in a very hot frying pan full of onion and pepper slices, plus slices of some kind of generally acceptable dead animal, or tofu for today’s health conscious but texture and taste challenged diners. The pan is sizzling with hot grease that is splattering all over the place. If you’re wearing anything good, you might as well kiss it off, because it will never be the same. This man had his order set before him on the table, and then he lowered his head over the sizzling pan of fajitas to pray. Before he finished his prayer, he suffered burns to his face.

     Fajitas are good, therefore their popularity. But they do require respect and know how.

     Like I said, he sued the restaurant. The court “found the food posed an ‘open and obvious’ danger.”

     So, next time you’re in La Mexicano and you order fajitas, say your prayer of thanks before the food arrives, even though that might be a little presumptuous.

Anyone For Some Cheese

     As reported by the AP, in Summerfield, FL. Some thieves stole a tractor-trailer filled with $85,000 worth of shredded mozzarella cheese. This cheese was bound for some pizza emporium. The thieves had to bring their own tractor to make the heist. The question that comes to mind is WHY?

     Did the thieves really like mozzarella cheese? Did they hold some kind of grudge against the pizza place? Did they have a market for this cheese? Did they only want the trailer? After all, by itself it’s worth $62,000.

     If it was the trailer they wanted, imagine their surprise when they opened it up for the first time and found multiple tons of cheese.

So you Floridians, be on the lookout---if you have someone come to your door with a cooler, selling mozzarella cheese, you may be face-to-face with the cheese thief, or then it might be some crazy person, or very possibly both.

From Uncle Vellanoff's Journal

"Tis Certainly True"

       As much as we enjoyed the people in the small towns it was always nice to get into a big city.
   One such place was Boston. We had several Irish troupe members who had family in the city so we always knew they were good for some home-cooked-meal invitations. We were never disappointed. These Irish were very hospitable people. Their sense of humor was legendary, and much enjoyed.

    One troupe member had a brother who was a Boston cop. What else? At dinner one evening he told us this story:

    “One morning I got a call from Father O’Malley. He had gotten up and as it was a fine summer day, went to the window to get a deep breath of fresh air. He noticed that there was a dead jackass in the middle of his front yard. He promptly called the station. The conversation went like this:

    “‘Good morning. This is Sergeant Carey. How may I help you?’

    “‘And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O’Malley at St. Ann’s Catholic Church. There’s a jackass lying dead in me front lawn and would ye be so kind as to send a couple o’yer lads to take care of the matter?’

    “I thought I’d have some fun with the good Father so replied, ‘Well now, Father, it was always my understanding that you people took care of the last rites!’

    “There was dead silence on the line for a long moment. Father O’Malley then replied: ‘Aye, tis certainly true: but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin first, which is the reason for me call.’”

 

And Then She Was Just Gone

    One time when we were traveling across Texas on our way to El Paso, we stopped in Odessa. We played in the Globe Theater for three nights to standing-room only audiences. During the day, we had time to look around town. Several of us were walking down Main Street and were nearly out of town when we came to a large hole in the ground next to the street. There was a faded sign by the hole. The only part of the sign we could read was the words “Funeral Hom.”

    We asked an elderly man who was walking nearby if he knew the story behind the hole and the sign.

    He looked at us, smiled, and asked, “Y’all really want to know?” When we assured him that we were truly interested, he began.

    “An old cowboy, when asked by his granddaughter the secret of his having lived so long, gave her some advice. He told her that the secret was to sprinkle a pinch of gunpowder on her oatmeal every morning.

    “The old cowboy finally died when he was 105 years old. The granddaughter followed his advice without fail until the age of 104 when she died. She left behind 12 children, 35 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, 18 great-great-grandchildren, and that 45-foot hole where the crematorium used to be.”

    Having told us that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off down the street, whistling to himself. Whether or not any of that was true we had no way of knowing, but it was a good story and the best explanation we thought we were likely to get.

Whatdayamean, Indecent Exposure?
     This certainly comes under the heading of Mind Boggling. The Palm Beach Post has reported that a Florida dance troop issued a dare to this woman as part of a pledge to gain admittance to their group. Okay, so far it sounds a little juvenile, but hey, it’s Florida. However, the dare was for her to sit naked out in front of the local Dunkin’ Donuts.

    Now, any organization that would dare a possible member to do something this stupid is certainly not worth the possible member’s consideration. So normally, a person would tell this dance troop where they could go.

However, this lady took off all her clothes and sat down outside the donut shop. That is until the police came and hauled her off. They are charging her with “indecent exposure”. I can hear her saying, “I don’t think I look that bad.”

You Can’t Do That Here

     A woman was driving along, probably minding her own business, when she saw a falcon take down a duck. She stopped, went over to the scene of the crime, and beat on the falcon with a beaded scarf. The falcon left the duck and flew away, somewhat injured.

Well, it so happens that you can’t do that in Idaho. Authorities are charging her with a misdemeanor count of beating or harassing an animal.

    It turned out that the falcon was a tame bird helping somebody hunt ducks. The reason the woman was able to beat the falcon was because up till now, the falcon had grown up with humans and didn’t know that it needed to watch out for beaded shawls and such.

Now, I’m guessing that if the woman had been beating on a person who was killing a duck, no one would have given it a second thought.

One more question---who’s is looking out for the ducks in Idaho? Huh?