Peanut Shells on the Floor

As a kid, my dad was always worried about appearances. He always sat in the back row of church, a theatre, a meeting, anything. When I asked him why, he told me he didn’t want anyone sitting behind him in case he had a dirty neck. Ok. When we’d go to a hotel, we always had to make the bed and completely clean the bathroom, folding the towels neatly and hanging the washrags up to dry, as if someone else were going to use them! My Mother would explain to him that it wasn’t necessary, as they would change the beds and put in fresh towels and washrags. He thought that was ridicules because we had only slept on them once! No matter, the work was to be done. I’m sure that if we stayed more than a day or two, we would have had to rent a vacuum and wash a few walls, just so the maid wouldn’t think ill of us! In a restaurant, we had to wad up our napkins and straw papers and cracker wrappers and stuff them into our glasses and put our silver and whatever else neatly on our plates and scrape whatever crumbs or debris onto our hands and into the aforementioned plate!
At North Woods Inn, for any of you who have been, know that when the waiter greets you, he throws peanuts on the table. I love that! It right away makes the whole event kind of casual and like home. Not that we throw things on the table at home, but, well, you know what I mean….Anyway, as you walk into North Woods Inn, there is sawdust on the floor. As a kid, I always thought it was ground up peanut shells, because as you know, you are suppose to throw the peanut shells on the floor. There is even a sign that tells you to do this. Right there in plain sight! For all to see. Oh no, not us! How would that look?! We had to pile our shells in a neat little pile. I would point out the sign on every wall around us, but, alas, ours were in a neat little pile next to our Root Beer mug. Each time the waiter would come, he would shove them onto the floor. I’m sure he was thinking, what a bunch of Rubes! But when we’d leave, our last pile of shells, our paper-wadded glass and our silver would be all neatly sitting ready for inspection!
Maybe that’s why I’m such a slob. Tho I don’t throw peanut shells on my floor at home, there are a few other things on the floor, that I seem to just toss like those peanut shells at North Woods Inn. Hummmmm,….. Dr. Phil?

Men and their Trucks

Men think of their trucks as tools. And they use them as such. Steve had the day off, so he decided to take out an annoying palm fron-y thing in the front circle. We both hate it, and it just is out of place in our ‘woodsy’ landscaping. He tried to eliminate it once before by cutting it way back. Now, we gardeners know that that was just pruning. He didn’t and was quite surprised to find it grew back even stronger than before. He thought it was some kind of miracle. I don’t like to shake his faith in God, so I just let him believe it was, indeed, a miracle. Now two years later, that miracle has caused a sight issue in the driveway. Meaning, I can’t see to get out of my own driveway. So, this bright sunny Sunday was the day to destroy the thing, miracle or not! ‘One good pull with the Ford F150 and that puppy will be outta there!’ Hummmm…me thought! One good pull, he thinks…

As he got into the truck, I could just picture my Dad doing the same thing. In fact, I thought my Dad was the only man who used his vehicle for everything. You see, my dad was a kind of ‘I do whatever I want, when I want, don’t follow the rules, make them up as I go, inventive’ kind of guy. His way was better, and what was the argument? And, he was usually right, darn it! He was, in truth, the only person on the planet who had a cast iron vice mounted on the tailgate of his utility van. He also had one of those change things you push the lever and coins come out the bottom, screwed to the dashboard. You know, the kind that has a slot for pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters? When I asked him about this, he stated as if only his genius could figure it out, ‘In case I need change for a pop or something’. OH…He also decided it a good idea to have paper towels at the ready, so he installed a paper towel holder. He only snag came when he inadvertently screwed it into the gas tank. But it was a good idea because you never know when you might spill that pop you just bought with your change from the change dispenser!

As Steve put the chain on the back of the F 150, my mind went back to the day my Dad drove up to my house on W. Lime to take out a tree trunk that had been apparently bugging him for some time. He attached a chain to the tree trunk and back to the vice on the back of his Van. In one good pull, it came out and he just drove off with the vegetation trailing behind him as he rounded the corner to W. Lemon and up the very same driveway Steve is now attempting the same thing. It was this very same van that Steve inherited that he had the brilliant idea it would move the 14 Foot Lumacraft Boat full of dirt. (I was using it as a planter, another story, another time!) All I needed was for it to be lifted up about 4 inches on one side and I would slip a rock under it to level it out. He attached some clamp kind of thing to the boat and the other end to the vice on the van. No go. Not even a breath of air under the offending side....Do you know how heavy a boatload full of dirt is? Well, it will just remain a little lopsided!

So the truck is ready for ‘one good pull’. I sat on the porch in my rocker and just watched my he-man at work! I love to watch him do stuff! I guess I should preface this by mentioning that it’s Sunday and the Mormon Church is full as is the street with big, ol Mormon family cars. Right next to the palm fron-y thing. As they exited the church, a few at a time, they looked a little worried about their big, ol family cars in the path of sure destruction. Steve just diligently went about his task at hand. Well, I got board, so I came in and sat at my computer to write this story. I’d love to tell you the ending, but he’s still out there pullin’!

...An hour later he came in dirt from head to toe, sweat dripping from his brow, proud look of manliness and stated, “That puppy is outta there!”

Men and their trucks…just another tool!