HIKING THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL

Saturday was supposed to be a warm up to a hike taking FHB to Abram’s Falls in Cades Cove Wednesday, both in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. However, if you believe a relief map completely, you may find yourself sitting on a log somewhere along the trail feeling as though you don’t care if you ever make it out or not!

The Appalachian Trail (AT) was our destination, since I have wanted to walk on it since I began hiking a few years ago. Ron chose what appeared to be a rather low level of climb up from the Clingman’s Dome parking lot to where the trail intersects the AT about ½ a mile from the Dome’s top where the tower sits (see the cloud shrouded tower photo).

Most tourists take the ½ mile, or 30-minute walk, on an asphalt walk up from the parking lot to the dome that is, naturally, smooth. The route we chose is essentially a rocky creek bed only about 12 inches wide, and, on this day, full of running water! The temperature was around 57 degrees, which was a lifesaver to me, and the mountain was completely wrapped in a cloud mist, with frequent sprinkles of rain.

Had I chosen to wear my rain gear, I’m not sure I would have made it back. The heat would have roasted me from inside! Instead, I walked short-sleeved, to remain as cool as possible. This was only one of the extra chances I got Saturday!

The picture of the four of us, Steve, Corey, Ron, and me was taken where the parking lot trail intersects with the AT. Had it been a clear day we would have been witness to beautiful mountain vistas, green valleys, and fresh mountain air! However, with the clouds around us, we could only see about 10 to 20 yards on each side of the trail.

Heading out toward Clingman’s Dome, I thought the rough hike up, over sharp rocks, through water, and up steep grades was almost over. I figured once we reached the top; saw the tower, that we would start a gentle decent back down to the highway where we left the second vehicle. But, oh hell no, my day had only begun to be agony!

Let me say here, that Ron is blaming himself for taking me on a more advanced hike than I should have been on after two recent surgeries, the addition of 10 pounds I probably put on waiting to heal, and the fact that we were somewhere around 6,600 feet in elevation! I have assured him that I had at least two opportunities to select alternative routes or hikes. However, I was determined to hit the AT, even if it was only about 4 miles of the total 2,174 miles! I did reach the AT, but with much less grace than I had intended!

Ron, our usual guide, did not know the trail “down” was actually up for more than 80% of the way back. There were log and rock steps for almost unbearable durations heading down, with sharp rocks, slick roots, slimy rocks, and deep walked-out trails full of oozy mud that sucked at your heels with every step.

Not being in the best of shape, as evidenced by the photo, my legs soon tired of constantly stepping up onto, what seemed like never ending, log or rock steps. The trail continued to ascend; when it seemed to me we should be going down! We either passed “in shape” older guys running up toward us, or pack laden young people heading “to the top and beyond!” One old guy told us he planned to make 70 miles Saturday…I say “Bullshit!”

Ron and Steve eventually pulled off about ½ a mile ahead of Corey and me. We communicated with walkie-talkies and they began to wonder where we were. Corey, hanging back with his dad, expecting him to die any minute, radioed and asked how much further. We were already 2 hours into a 4-mile hike! Ron radioed back about 2 miles. I blurted out “Oh shit!” and Corey relayed, “That’s a big 10-4 and an ‘oh shit’!”

My legs became rubbery and then I got a cramp in my left thigh. I knew then I was dehydrated and loosing much needed salt and electrolytes!

I forced myself to eat half a granola bar and several salty pretzels, and downed it all with suck after suck of water from my backpack water bladder. Finally, I felt somewhat better and with Corey’s constant coaching, what he’s good at, I stood up and put one tried foot before the other until Ron and Steve came back and met us about .2 of a mile from the car. Ron took my pack and we all headed out!

I can look back on it now and say I’m glad for the experience, but man, at one point I wanted to call in a helicopter!

I didn’t even want the “end of the trail beer” I was so tired, but I downed one and ate two slices of pizza at the Smoky Mountain Brewery.

I got home at 7:30…about 12 hours after leaving, took a hot shower and went to bed. I woke up around 9:30 Sunday morning, thanking God for sparing this old, fat, out of shape man!

Only 2,170 more miles to go!

GRAINGER COUNTY TOMATO FESTIVAL ROAD TRIP!

Ron, Neena, Judy, and I took a “Road Trip” Friday with the intent on following most of the Appalachian Quilt Trial, but we ended up spending most of our time in Rutledge, Tennessee. We specifically spent most of our time at the annual Grainger County Tomato Festival, which is held inside and around the middle and high schools. The event began back in 1993 to promote Grainger County Tomatoes, which are heavenly on a bacon, tomato, and mayonnaise sandwich!

We first visited Ann and McDonald Crosby at Joppa Mountain Pottery. We just caught them before they left to set up at the festival in town, and reaped some savings. They do some beautiful work, but a lot are just uniquely weird and down right scary! Ann was once McDonald’s pottery student and he fell in love with how she handled the swirling clay, I guess, and married her. Also notice that McDonald is holding is cute little “three legged” dog! You sure couldn’t tell he was missing anything – ran around sniffing our heels the whole time!

Next, it was time to view the fruits of the labor of the local farmers! There were, of course, fresh tomatoes, peppers, corn, muscadines, cabbage, watermelons, cantaloupes, peaches, apples, and other fresh vegetables and fruit! There were pottery and art exhibits, food stands, and a horde of hot sweaty people roaming the grounds.

There were machines to roast ears of corn in the husk, to make cotton candy, or to whip up loads of homemade ice cream.

The pictures of quilts hung along the trail to show who sponsors the event and where special events and demonstrations were being held. That’s what you watch for along the way on the barns, restaurants, and local businesses.

One quilt grabbed our attention a Shine’s Country Cooking where we enjoyed chicken and catfish lunches, with Fried Green Tomatoes for an appetizer! We must have downed a gallon of tea between us. It was a very hot and sticky day!

I loved the little church we saw along the way, but the outhouse with the cross on the door just begged me to take its picture! Holy crap, Batman!

I included the tractor on the front porch and the miniature power engines for my buddy Bruno!

NOTE: Click on all shots for larger views!

It was a very good road trip and gave Ron and I a chance to relax before

the “hike from hell”…coming next to this blog!

LEAVING MY INNOCENCE BEHIND

I got a little out of sequence by writing about The Beacon Drive-In back in October of ’06, but it was in that piece that told how Woody and I seem to circle that place endlessly, and one night decided we would get out of that rut by joining the Air Force. That piece would chronologically follow the drag race piece and then this one.

That was the end of innocence for me. The day I decided I did not want to be a child anymore – what the hell was I thinking? Gees, I could have possibly milked that life at least another year or two, and who knows, maybe I would have become an electrician like my old man. Then, of course, I would have missed the war, never gone to college, and never known anything I know and cherish today.

Nevertheless, I chose to leave Harriman, my parents, some of my innocence, and all my youth behind me.

Imagine you are eighteen years old and far from home among strangers and some tough looking Drill Instructor (DI) and his huge black sidekick starts yelling at you during every waking hour and sometimes in your dreams. What do you do? You just look him, listen to every word he barks, and do everything he asks without questioning.

After your first two weeks in boot camp you begin the psychological state the drill sergeants work hard at provoking in your mind. You begin to think that you have always been at Lackland Air Force Base and that you have always been doing whatever you are doing at any given moment for the DI. You become totally his, putty in his hands, and you would literally charge a machine gun nest if he asked. That is the simple fact why the military takes recruits at the tender malleable age of eighteen. They would take them younger if it were constitutionally legal.

As soon as I arrived the DI told us, “I am now your momma! I am now your daddy! I am now your brother! I am now your sister! BUT, I’ll be damn if I’ll be your girlfriend!”

“Do as I say or you’ll have my foot so far up your ass you’ll have to have it surgically removed! Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

“I can’t hear you!”

“YES SIR!”

That was the way if was from the first sticky August night I arrived, standing at forced stiff attention in my civilian clothes. We marched, or tried to, until the next evening in our “civvies!” This is why new recruits are called “Rainbows.” Their bright colored clothing stands out like a sore thumb beside the olive drab of the hundreds of older troops marching everywhere you look.

I arrived with about thirty-five new troops at about 1AM. Everyone was dog-tired and barely conscious from sitting around airports, flying, and riding buses since 6AM the previous morning.

We were marched into a huge building, which turned out to be an experimental barracks the Air Force was testing, and told which bunk was ours. The DI then announced at the top of his voice, “You got fifteen minutes to shit, shower, shave, and get in that bunk. Hit it! The lights go out in 14 minutes!”

Somehow the thirty-five of us made that deadline before “lights out,” but just barely. Everyone I passed, like me, had little pieces of toilet paper stuck all over their faces to stop the bleeding. When you are tired, standing five or six deep in front of a mirror, and are scared shitless, it is a wonder you do not slit your throat!

I remember waking the next morning and sitting up startled, as “The time now is zero five-thirty hours! Get up, get dressed, and get outside,” blared from the loudspeaker! I also remember that the pillow was stuck to the side of my face from the dried blood I had shed during the past four hours I was asleep!

We jumped into our clothes, pissed, brushed our teeth, splashed water on our face and ran down the stairs to the waiting DI and his assistant who were busily trying to show troops where and how to stand and wait on the others.

We left behind a bed, latrine, and barracks area in a shambles, but this was the last time we jumped out of bed as carefree as we used to do at home.

After breakfast, we double-timed over to supply and had our new wardrobe thrown into our faces, our hair shaved off, and then double-timed it back to the barracks. It was then we began learning the finer points of making hospital corners, making a bed tight enough to bounce a quarter off a foot in the air, how to properly arrange and display our clothing and toilet articles, and how to clean the latrine, all before leaving within thirty minutes of “zero five-thirty hours!”

This discipline does not just happen over night, but with a lot of screamed encouragement down the back your shirt you learned pretty quickly!

This was just the first morning and my innocence and former existence were now far behind!

SUMMER THUNDER STORMS

A cold front moved through Thursday, bringing us some much-needed rain, but it also brought through some unneeded high winds. There was considerable damage in the city of Harriman, while my subdivision only got sporadic wind sheer. This huge limb came from the top of an old oak behind my house. You could see the nice hole the wind made coming through the trees from the west!

However, this was minor compared to the June 2003 storm that toppled four trees and topped several others in our yard. With my trusty chainsaw, I should have this cleaned up in a couple of hours.

To get the rain, it is almost worth it!

THE FULL CONTINGENT

All six Knights and all five Dragons posed for photos Monday evening, at our house, after dinning on cubed-steak and gravy, green beans, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and cornbread! It was so good you would slap your mamma for the last bite!

Tony (orange t-shirt) is sort of an honorary member of both groups since he is not married. However, the gathering was in his honor. He is the Dragons' baby brother and only visits three or four times a year. He lives in Atlanta, and the Dragons often travel down there for a day visit.

To us Knights, just another excuse to party and over eat! On this particular day, after Sunday on the lake, we did not think much about enjoying our beer! We were content with the sweet and unsweetened tea Neena had made!

About the time everyone was ready to leave my daughter and granddaughter arrived “fashionably late” in time to say goodbye to everyone. Katie Bug was 15 on the 16th, and looking forward to her sophomore year starting very soon!

SUNDAY ON THE LAKE

Off in the distance, on a tiny little peninsula jutting out into Watts Bar Lake, could be heard the sounds of laughter, laughter that any passer-by would find irritating. It is often uncontrollable, and even strange to the uninitiated, but to those who long for close family bonds it is comforting.

So here we all sat, except for one Dragon and one Knight, this past Sunday, enjoying each other’s company, the warm sunny summer day with just the right breeze to cool us under the portable awning, and watching the sun glisten off the calm waters. It was one relaxing day to remember long after summer ends.

Besides the laughter and fellowship, we had this gay flotilla of “pink floaties” that passed by, and the pool of bets on how many beers it takes to make Steve turn over and roll into the lake to entertain us! Everyone in unison was soon chanting, “Going, going, gone!”

And of course Steve springs to his feet declaring, “I meant to do that!”

How I love the days of summer as I ease into the fall of my life.

PROM MEMORIES

I probably do not remember much about my junior prom because it was not one of my greatest moments.

I have always loved being with “the guys” and doing what guys do, talking trash, drinking beer, camping or hiking, fishing, shooting, driving down new country roads, or just sitting around sucking on a cigar (well, it was cigarettes in those days) and enjoying the peace and quiet of the moment. So, I suppose this made me a bit independent with the ladies. I mean, women were just a lower priority in those days.

It was nothing for me to take a girl home in the middle of a date and then go either look up my male friends or continue the “double date” as a fun loving chauffer! I think I have already mentioned this, but once when a girl complained about me tapping the gas peddle around and around the Beacon, pretending my dad’s ’64 Pontiac had a racing cam, I took her home and drove Barry and his date around the rest of the evening! Sad, I know, but very indicative of the way I thought about life. If someone does not enjoy you the way you are, the hell with them or her. There are plenty of fish in the sea, I would think, and not worry about it in the least.

So it was on Junior Prom night in l963. Charlotte was a lovely little blond girl with a nice smile and pretty legs, best I remember. I can remember where she lived with her big brothers and how I worried about dragging something off the undercarriage going up her rocky drive way.

What I do not remember is what she did to piss me off!

Some time during the prom evening I simply left the prom without her! It must have been serious enough in my mind at least, but looking back it was a shameful event for which I never apologized.

I left with two other guys who were also fed up their dates. The decision was we could be having so much more fun driving the back roads to Wartburg and Oakdale with a six-pack of beer. So off we went, satisfied that we did not need a girl to make us happy.

All the girls at school thought we were awful pigs, but the guys, even though they would not say it in earshot of a girl, thought we were cool! It was all forgotten in a couple of weeks and we all started dating again – after all, most of the under classmen had not heard of our deed!

Senior year prom was an after thought for me. I knew the prom was coming, but really did not want to be bothered with fancy clothes, flowers, and the formality of such an event. However, once I learned that all my friends had dates, I decided I had better get one.

Now, I am not saying that Becky was all that was left, because she was not. Let us just say that Becky had not been asked before I came along. She was a very attractive brunette, with pointy glasses, a huge smile full of teeth, and a nice tall curvy body for a sophomore. I had noticed her before this and had considered asking her out, but never seemed to get around to it. So, I asked her to be my Senior Prom date, and she giggled her acceptance.

I remember mom insisted I bring her by the house before we went to the prom for pictures, which in those days was an old Brownie Hawkeye loaded with black and white Kodak film. As you can see, the photo is not the best in the world, but it serves to document that the event did occur.

I can remember arriving at the Cumberland Middle School gym, where the prom was scheduled. I remember a friend, Arty, was the organist in the evening’s band, all bands had organs in those days, and they were playing “The House of the Rising Sun!”

After this, my memory fades to black. I am left with only the memory of the night and that I did not leave her stranded. I remember taking her home and giving her one short kiss, which was enough to discover she had halitosis! It was our first and last date.

A COUPLE OF LOOSE ENDS

I spent half a day in Traffic Court on Friday, with about 100 other felons! There were actually 240 items on the docket due to the “domestic” judge being out of town. The single judge held dual purpose court! Several people elected to reschedule their court dates until August, September, and even October, but I stood firm (along the wall with about 20 other folks without seats) and soon we were down to about a 100 and they got on with the proceedings.

We heard about 6 divorces cases and one “she owes me money” case before us real felons got our day in court. All in all, it worked out well for me. I was the only one who stepped up and loudly, in my friendliest voice, said, “Good morning your honor…Officer,” shaking my head at the Tennessee Highway Patrolman who had so cleverly hidden behind the Sonic sign near the school zone!

What happened here Mushy (not his real name)? “I knew it was after 9AM sir, there were no children on the street, there were no parked cars, and I was the only vehicle on the street, so I elected to let my truck coast down rather than braking, your honor. It was my fault,” I confessed.

Normally, the offense would have cost me $186, plus court costs, but by sticking with the court date, and being extra courteous, I got off with $42 in court and $50 in traffic school costs. The class is two hours this Thursday evening. Hey, you do what you have to do for a $94 savings and nothing noted on your record!

Finally, the shoulder! The doctor says I’m fine, or will be fine, but I have another 6 weeks in physical therapy. The therapist says I will more than likely have some deficient, but I should have good range of motion that can be tolerated in my golf game!

Two of the shots shown give a hint to the amount of scare tissue that I developed in about 5 weeks after the first operation, and the scraping tool used to scrap off and suck up the removed tissue. As I’ve said, apparently I’m a super fast healer.

The third shot shows the big stitches holding the rotator cuff repair in place.

My advice to anyone contemplating shoulder surgery – don’t do it until you are on your knees crying in pain…live with it as long as you possibly can. Secondly, if you do have it, get to therapy as soon as possible…the next day if you can!

HAVE COMPUTER – WILL REPAIR!

Sunday was spent replacing the CD RW drive in my wife’s computer. She wanted the Scrapbook software I have on my PC installed on her's, but the drive would not read anything I put in it. We bought the PC from my step-dad, who died back in the winter. Gave him $300 for the Wal-Mart special, but it has done quite well up until now.

My brother sent me a CD/DVD combo unit he had and I “cracked the case” and popped it in down in the basement workshop. I remembered to make it the “master” drive and switched the IDE configuration jumper selection from “cable select.” It fired up normally and I downloaded the latest driver.

After that, I loaded the Scrapbook software and everyone was happy – for a while!

In attempting to burn some photo files to a CD for her to use in building her pages, I noticed that the CD burner on my PC was having problems. Therefore, I went to Best Buy Monday, bought a medium priced CD/DVD RW drive (with Light-Scribe), and installed it today. I changed the jumper settings as usual, but I forgot to change the existing DVD drive in the machine from CS to Master. The PC could not find the new drive! After some cussing, I cracked the case in the computer room floor and moved the jumper.

After that, it fired up as it is supposed to, downloaded its own firmware updates, and I am again in business.

I love working on these things as long as it all goes my way. If not, I have to fight myself not to take a hammer to it! Patience jackass, patience!

THE PRINCESS THEATER

Before I leave my innocence behind and move off to the Air Force, I thought I had better do an installment on the Princess Theater in Harriman. I had almost forgotten about it, although I pass its empty shell most days, but I found a video clip on YouTube last night that brought it all back (clip at the end of the post). I sure hope there is a renaissance of the theater for nostalgia sake, if not because it might help bring people back down town.

“Walley” Worlds have killed the small town, not to mention the sprawling urban shopping areas that get closer and closer with each passing year. It seems that one day there will be no divisions between the cities and the small towns, just more urban area to incorporate. Maybe by the year 3000 the whole country will just be called the “Great City of the United States!” Such a sad day and I am glad I will not be around to see it.

The Princess Theater was the highlight of entertainment during the days of my youth. Oh, there were other theaters, skating rinks, a bowling alley, a drive-in theater, and a number of drive-in restaurants, but none of those holds fonder memories than the 50s and 60s movies I saw at the Princess.

There are fond memories of seeing the early Disney movies like “Bambi,” released in 1957, “Old Yeller” in 1958, “Sleeping Beauty” in 1959, and the other classics.

There was also the first 3-D movie I ever saw “The Creature from the Black Lagoon” in 1954. It was not so much scary to me as erotic – Julie Adams in that white bathing suit was just hot and I wished I was the monster!

While logic would dictate that I saw some of these at the Mi De Ga Theater in Waverly, Tennessee, the blender of time will always make me think I saw them all at the Princess.

Oh, and the horror classics of the time still shine the most in my memory. Vincent Price, Lon Chaney Jr., Peter Cushing, Boris Karloff, and Christopher Lee all gave me many a restless night, but I could not stop watching. Again, these movies, while they kept me awake at night, were also very erotic to me in some strange way. There was just something about carrying off a helpless beauty or sneaking into her bedroom – oh my! You know how the adolescent mind works – remember?

I remember the popcorn smell of the theater and the sticky/tacky touch of the floor between the seats and the little squishy sounds it made when you walked over it.

I remember the low hum of teenage voices, just under the movie sounds, whispering in the ears of their dates or remarks made out loud meant to make an impression on some pretty girl.

I remember leaning out from an end seat and looking down the carpeted aisle illuminated by the little lights on the sides of the seats. I do not know why I liked to look down the aisles, but maybe it was the colorful carpet in the unique lighting. For some strange reason it was a safe place to me, and I loved being there among friends and acquaintances – sharing the experience of being in a movie theater.

Occasionally, there was a live show, or at least a prelude show to build up the intrigue in the up coming horror show. “If you frighten easily, or if you have heart problems, or if you are here alone, I advise you to leave now!” This, of course, only made you want to see the movie that much more. “The screen will flash red just before a scary scene to warn you. That will give you time to hide your eyes!”

“Okay, okay,” everyone would shout, “get on with it!”

The popcorn and the Coke tasted so good as you crammed your mouth full of the salty, buttery food and soaked it down with the icy, sweet, and syrupy liquid. And Goobers and Sugar Babies! Oh, my gosh, what I would give for a pack of Goobers right now!

Well, some just nibbled the corn, one kernel at a time, but I was like a hamster, bulging out my cheeks and not swallowing until it was thoroughly chewed! This must have been an added attraction for my dates!

I think back on those days and nights and the calculated strategy of trying to sneak an arm up and around a girl’s neck, and let it rest there on a fake rabbit collar, gently rubbing the Ban Lon sweater sleeve with your hand, and inhaling the White Shoulders perfume. Come to think of it, this could have been the beginnings of my shoulder problems. Girls do not realize that this position is really uncomfortable and within the first two to three minutes your arm usually went to sleep, but you would not move it for the world. To a young boy it was worth the pain just to get into position to slide into first base!

This position was also a point of some status – to be seen out with one whom you thought to be the prettiest girl in school, with your arm around her at the movie.

Finally, I remember the balcony – a place I was only allowed after the 60’s and after I married the manager’s daughter. Before then it was just for the “Colored” folks, who occasionally dropped off empty cups and popcorn boxes onto us snobby “white” folks below. I am so glad that time ended; otherwise I would have never got to enjoy a movie from the balcony, which was closed to everyone except family.

So, here is a piece that was posted on YouTube in 2006 about the efforts to bring the Princess back to her glory. Here is hoping that happens! My grandchildren also deserve fond memories of her as well.

DINNING OUT WITH GOOD FRIENDS IS PRICELESS

Saturday was family day with dinner out in Knoxville. This week the Dragons chose Bonefish Grill. It’s a wonderful place on Parkside Drive, in the Turkey Creek shopping area. They seem to have a handle on fresh fish and always have at least 7 selections.

For drinks the ladies chose Beringer White Zinfandel, while the men settled for Miller Lite (btl), Sierra Nevada (btl), and New Castle draft.

Bonefish has a beautiful little bar, but sadly their draft choices are limited to New Castle, Miller Lite, and Samuel Adams Summer. The Knights demand at least Sierra Nevada, Killian, Bass, or some other good pale ale along with the usual domestics. We struggled through 3 or 4 of what they had, so it was not a total loss!

For more on the food choices we made flip over to Mushy’s Cookings!

And yes, even after all those appetizers and entrees, Gary and I ventured next door to MaggieMoo’s for a freshly mixed double dip of Better Batter Cake Carnival! Needless to say, the diet isn’t going too well.

Total tab for the Mushy’s was around $100! But, good food, good beer, and great friends are priceless!

HAPPY POST 4TH OF JULY!

Wow, sure hope everyone had a fun and safe 4th of July I know we did! The only downer was that one of the Dragons could not make it due to back and leg problems, which meant we were shot a Knight as well. Bummer…maybe things will be back to normal after the end of July for all of us.

I could not get in the water, due to shoulder wounds from the second surgery, but I cheered them on from the shaded comfort of a canopy tent on the bank. We have found a wonderful little cove that is shielded from the frantic boat and wave-runners of the main Tennessee River channel. The little cove and surrounding forest has all the conveniences of home (see Gary off in the woods doing what a man has to do).

However, there is no air conditioning like we enjoyed on the houseboat, but there was a steady little breeze and those that did get wet said it was chilly before drying off.

The hotdogs, slaw, sour kraut, onions, and mustard were delicious hot off the camping stove. Steve complained the entire time about not have any ketchup…says you cannot enjoy a hotdog without it! Where’s he from…Georgia?

If you looked around for something to eat, you had to look for Judy…she always had everything in her lap! Oh, those cookies sure were good – had not had any sweets in a long time!

The beer was cold and the Macanudos (and one Ashton) were very relaxing, while thinking about Bruno. I just sat back and listened to the banter of my wonderfully funny family. As Steve excused himself between my wife’s and my chair he said, “Watch your koozie.” Without hesitation my wife replies, “Oh, I didn’t know it was showing!”

Then there was the moment Gary thought he saw lightning, but it was my camera flash! I asked where he thought the best place to be was if a storm did come. After taking another hit off his beer, he replied, “I’m staying right here next to the water. If I get hit, I can just roll over into the water and put myself out!”

It goes on like this most of the time, but we did miss the antics of Neena who was home resting. She is the maharishi of puns and ribs when she is around.

Well, happy 4th again and for those of you that have to work the rest of the week…sorry!

MY WIFE IS KICKING HER LITTLE BOY OUT!

I was bribed today with a great meal and some cold beer to accompany my wife to the Oak Factory Outlet! The mission was to find me an oak dresser to match my other bedroom furniture. Up until now, I had a mix of oak and painted pine, which was fine with me! The red dresser I now use matches the shelves I built many moons ago to hold my Hot Wheels Mustang and AC Cobra collection.

Now honestly, don’t it look fine the way it is? Women!

Now I’ll have to take them all down to the basement and patch the holes in the wall the shelves made. The next thing she’ll want me to do is replace the race car border! It won’t be my room anymore!

She once had a hen party and one lady walking through the house commented, “I didn’t know you had a little boy.”

“Yes, I do, and he’s my husband. That’s his room!” my wife told her.

Never had a room of my own growing up, and I roomed with 35 other dudes in the Air Force, or 6 in the tent in Vietnam, and then I got married. I was thrilled when my snoring forced me into my own room – or die! Then, right when I get it the way I want it…I have to grow up and get an adult room.

It just isn’t fair I tell you!

Okay vote: How many like it the way it is? How many the way it will be?