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Made For Each Other.

The weather was the same in both locations.
High in the upper 60’s, lows in the mid 50’s – slight wind, no rain. Close enough to average for the first day of autumn.  Uneventful from a meteorological standpoint.  Yet both of the women would be birthing a child before lunch.  The children were born just a few hours apart.  A few hours, and fifteen-hundred miles.  The first would be a boy, the second a girl.  The first in New Hampshire, the second in Oklahoma.
The date: Friday, September 22, 1978

Sixteen years later, in an orthodontist office in Oklahoma the boy from New Hampshire is looking at pictures of patients hung along the waiting room walls.  One of the frames holds a young girl.  She appears to be a year or two younger than he.  Hopefully not more than two-years younger, the boy would like to meet her.  She has a beauty that is deeper than the photographer’s talent.
“Hey, does she go to school with you?” The boy asks his friend, who is a couple of years younger.
“Never seen her,” his friend replies, “Besides – it’s a glamour shot, she doesn’t really look like that anyhow.”
The boy moves on.
The date: Fall/Winter 1994

It’s a typical school day for the boy, a Junior in high school.  Returning from lunch he sees a friend of his near her locker (a sophomore) and they visit.  A girl walks up – she is definitively pretty.  The girl has keys in her hand.  She shares a locker with his friend – must be a sophomore too.  He hasn’t met her yet.
The boy wants to talk to this pretty girl, so he asks:
“You drive?”
The pretty girl looks at the boy, jingles her car keys in his face before throwing them in the locker, and says: “You think?”
“And you’re a sophomore?”
“Yup,” and she turns and walks away.
The boy moves on.
The date: Spring 1995

The summer rolls around.  The boy cruises the town with a dead guy in the back seat (explanation some other time) and goes to a party with his friend.  The boy notices the pretty girl is at the party, but doesn’t have the guts to talk to her.  They share a friend or two – that’s close enough.
Summer comes, summer goes.
The boy moves on.
The date: Summer 1995

The boy starts his senior year.  He learns more about this pretty girl from their mutual friend.  He learns they share a birthday, and her name is Kim.
“Hey, why don’t the three of us go to lunch at Garfield’s today?”  The mutual friend asks.
“Naw, we don’t have the same lunch period.” The boy answers.
“So, we can today…  We’ll just skip a class.”
The trio goes to lunch.  They talk, the boy draws on the paper table-cloth.  He draws a waterfall with a rocky edge and an evergreen sprouting from the bank.  Kim draws a dog cartoon she is awfully proud of.  The boy is more impressed with her looks than with her artistic ability.
The girl has an attitude, too.
“You think (so-and-so) will be upset you’re at not lunch with him today?” The mutual friend asks the pretty girl.
“I don’t care, I’m having fun.  Besides, (so-and-so) doesn’t own me…” She fires back.
Sounds like Kim is taken.
The boy moves on.
The date: August 1995

September comes fast.  September is State Fair time, and birthday time.  The boy has two tickets to the rodeo and a concert he and his friend (with the braces) are going to.  The evening of the rodeo the friend cancels.  The boy calls another friend – busy.  And another – busy.  Then the mutual friend, she can’t go either.
“Why don’t you call Kim?”  She suggests.
“Naw…  I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t really know her.”
“You know me, I know her, I know you…  call her – she’d be happy I bet.”
“I don’t have her number.”
“I do…   Do you want me to call her for you?”
The boy calls Kim.  She is available and will be ready in twenty minutes.

After the fair, rodeo, and concert they’re hungry but most places were closed.  So the pair drive’s through Arby’s.  Kim is surprised – and a little argumentative – that the boy would buy her dinner.
Surprised himself, the boy asks, “Just what kind of guys do you date?”
“So this is a date?”
“Seems like it.”
They eat their Arby’s drive-through chicken finger platters and the boy brings her home.
In the drive way they awkwardly look at each other.
“I had a good time,” she concedes.
“Me too – good night, see you tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
The boy watches as the pretty girl unlocks the door and goes inside the house.
Then…
The boy moves on.
The date: September 1995

The boy and Kim become friends.  They both stay busy with work and school.  He works at a call center harassing people into buying Southwestern Bell’s “The Works” package.  She works as a front counter queen at Burger King.  They talk on the phone.  They visit at school.  They visit at each other’s houses.

One evening, sitting in the Kitchen at Kim’s house, she is flipping through a photo album.  There is a page with a glamour shot on it.  The boy looks at it and immediately his mind goes back to a orthodontist’s office, nearly a year past.  This is the same girl?  The pretty girl in the frame on the wall in the office, is the same girl sitting at the counter with him?
“When was that taken?”  The boy asks.
“After I had my braces off.  A few years ago…  The doctor gives each of his patients certificates to go to Glamour Shots after he is finished with their teeth.”
“Cool.”
The boy moves on.

Another such night, shortly thereafter, they decided to go to Wendy’s to grab some food.  After the burgers, Kim dropped the boy off in his drive way.  The two stand outside her car talking for a minute…
It doesn’t take long –
The boy moves in.

They kiss.  It lasts too long.
It’s official – the boy will not eat onions for years to come…
BUT, the boy is in love.
The date: Friday, October 13, 1995

Happy Valentine’s Day Kimberly.

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Posted by on February 14, 2012 in My Life

 

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What I Did On My Thanksgiving Break (Part 2)

Oh yeah…  I almost forgot to continue this post.  Thank you to the throngs of folks that sent me requests to end the suspense and finish the saga.  It’s a good thing there were 3 spam comments on WIDOMTGB Part 1 – it reminded me I only got half way through sharing my vacation adventures.  We continue:

Day 6 – Nov. 29:  More Hunting!
Noah has yet to get his deer – poor kid.
So early we rise again.  To the faithful morning spot where a few days ago I successfully harvested (the PC way to say it) Elliot…

Poor fella doesn't look so right from the other side - malformed antler. But this side looks great!

I'm so proud I took this fella' out of the gene pool... Can't have too many lopsided deer running around.

This morning we don’t see a thing.  We sit there for a few hours until Noah calls it quits and we head to the house.  Where I promptly fall asleep.

Sleeping out there, be it in cabin or field, is just the best.  I almost like to sleep out there more than the actual hunting.

*Flashback to Fall Turkey Season 2010 – dreamy image – chimes sounding*
At the edge of a draw several yards apart are two blinds.  In the first is my friend and his nephew.  The second has me and my boy.  In an Elmer Fudd voice, “Shhh… we hunting tewkey.”   -kind of.

We got there early.  Got comfy.  Whispered for a while.  Got sleepy.  Sleepily passed out – both of us.
We wake up some time later and look to the field.  Just outside of shooting range are some turkey (or is it  turkeys?).  If we can just get them closer, we can take a couple home with us…

After what seems like hours of calling, and hoping, and praying the turkey walk off into the distance and all hope is gone.  We give up and head to the other blind.

“Why didn’t you shoot!?!” Is the friendly greeting.
“What do you mean?  They were just out of range,” I defend.
“No man!  They were right by your blind – I mean you could have almost reached out and grabbed one!”
“Really?!  That must have been when we were sleeping,” my boy exposes.
“Yeah – that explains it…  They were so close to your blind, when you didn’t take a shot we almost did – but then something spooked them and that’s when they were just out of range…”
The boy quickly jumps back in, “Oh!  That must have been dad’s snoring – it’s what woke me up too.”
*Dreamy image – chimes sounding – back to the future*

Early this afternoon we went back out…  this time look who’s sleeping:

My boy

Like father, like son.

No deer – I call it quits.  I got my deer Saturday, I’m good to go.

Later my friend and the boy decide to give it one last go – still a few hours of day light, maybe they can get Noah a buck.  Back to field they go.  No doubt they set up, get comfy, and nod off – until…

A scan of the field shows movement.  Just behind the tree line there’s a buck moving.  Stir the boy, get ready, adrenaline flows.  There’s more movement – in the middle of the field – what is it?  A coyote?  Nope – a bob cat.

Whispering, “Hey, Noah…  do you want a bobcat or a deer?”  My friend asks my boy.
“A deer.  Why, is there a bobcat?”
“Yeah, right in the middle of the field.  Looks like he’s looking for a deer too.”
After a few minutes of waiting and watching, “Noah, if that cat comes to us – I’m gonna’ have to shoot him.”
Noah gets curious, “I want to see him – where is he?”
“I’ve got him in my sights…”
“Well, can I see?”

The boy starts fidgeting trying to line the cat up in his scope.  But the cat lines him up first and starts creeping towards them.  My friend quickly explains to Noah that if the cat comes for them there will be a point where it’s going to be shoot the cat or become dinner – and he isn’t too interested in hand-to-paw combat with an adult bob cat.

The cat keeps coming.  50 yards.  My friend lines up his shot…  40 yards.  Closer the cat creeps.  30 yards.  Why doesn’t the cat just stop.

20 yards.  The deer are no doubt about to eat their Wheaties (har-de-har-har, it’s a wheat field they’re sitting near) for dinner!  15 yards…

BANG!

The cat and deer retreat…  No blood, no trail, no trophy, no stuffed cat – BUT, on the bright side, my son didn’t become Meow Mix either.

Day 7… Through 11 – Nov. 30 & Beyond: Vacation?

We got back in town Tuesday night.  Ready for some lazy home time before going back to work Monday.  No big plans – and it’s a good thing too…  Because at 8:30 Wednesday morning my cell phone starts singing U-2’s “Beautiful Day.” (I’ll explain the ring-tone in this post over here) Which means my boss misses me…  Why is my boss calling half way through vacation?  Can’t be a good sign.

Yup…  life happens and the company will have to bar the doors if I don’t immediately spring into action and spare it from sudden destruction.  (Yes, that is totally laced with sarcasm – it was really not a big deal at all)

So I spend a few hours of each of the remaining days of my vacation either in person visiting my store, or on the phone with various members of the royal family taking care of business – overall it was a great vacation…

Learned a lesson, though –
While on vacation: Spend every possible minute far, far away from cell phone reception!


 
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Posted by on January 13, 2012 in My Life

 

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What I Did On My Thanksgiving Break (Part 1)

This year – my 15th working for this great company – I decided to take the week after Thanksgiving as vacation.  Crazy…  The first days of the Christmas shopping season and I am off.  No big deal, it’s a slow week for groceries – everyone is still eating Thanksgiving leftovers. 
Since I skipped my days off leading up to Thanksgiving the plan was to tack those 2 extra days on to vacation, along with my days off for the following week…  So let’s make it an 11 day week starting on Thanksgiving Day.

Day 1 – Nov. 24:  Thanksgiving
A traditional Thanksgiving Day at the In-laws…
Eat turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and *burnt rolls. There were a few other items, but this guy wasn’t touching them – potatoes are not meant to be bright orange, or sweet, or eaten with marshmallows and apples… and casserole is a cuss word to me – keep it away.
Then while everyone else watches the Detroit Lions lose a football game, I fall asleep and entertain the family with my sleep apnea.
Then – because I have workaholic tendencies and am a glutton for punishment – I spend the overnight hours (8:30pm – 4:00am) “helping” control the materialistic masses at a local Supercenter for the “Black Friday” sales that some how started at 9:23pm (approximately) on Thursday.

*Every year there is at least one item that **HAS to be messed up… this year it was just the rolls – Thankfully!
**I love my mother-in-law, but must say I am thankful my wife is a MUCH better cook than she is.

Day 2 – Nov. 25: Event Day
Get off work around 4 am – head home and sleep for a few hours. Then the real vacationing begins.
Load up the truck with food, clothes, Mickey the Mauser, plenty of ammo, wife, daughters (son was able to leave the night before), and wife’s friend (I’m not claiming her) to head to “the farm.”
I love the farm. Electricity, heat, running water, a sky full of stars, but no cell phone, no Facebook, no noise (unless you count coyotes and cattle). Us guys were able to spend the afternoon in field, searching in vain for the “Big One” – Bambi’s Daddy.

Generally after dark we get to wind down by playing a game of spades – guys dominating the girls…  But, instead, the girls decide to drive to town to visit Walmart.  Arghh – at least we didn’t have to go.

Day 3 – Nov. 26: Hunting
It’s amazing to me how easy it is to wake up at 5:30 am while on vacation and anticipating sitting in a tree in below freezing temperatures, with 40 mph winds howling around you, and rain falling from the sky… Now – if it were 5:30 am and I had a regular workday ahead of me it is a battle to get my head off the pillow.  Yet there I was – happily donning 5 layers of clothing, slinging my 8mm rifle, sitting in the cold, wind, rain with my 10-year-old son next to me.

With nothing to do but wait – we sit, we nap, we watch, we nap some more, we watch some more.

This is a faithful early morning spot.  Every time we’ve been there by 9 am we have seen plenty of deer pass through.  Today is my day to take one of them home.  At 8:30 am sharp, my buck comes walking by.  No buck fever, steady breathing, nerves of steel, adrenaline pumping. I take aim, I squeeze the trigger – click.

Oops, I forgot to chamber the round…  Doh! 

It’s ok, this deer doesn’t have the best hearing.  Round chambered. No buck fever, steady breathing, nerves of steel, adrenaline pumping. I take aim, I squeeze the trigger – BANG!

Deer runs about 40 yards and stops to look at me.  Since he is still standing, and I am not interested in chasing him around the woods… 

No buck fever, steady breathing, nerves of steel, adrenaline pumping. I take aim, I squeeze the trigger – BANG! 

Two steps and down he goes – no chasing required.  Here’s a picture of his good side:

Poor fella doesn't look so right from the other side - malformed antler. But this side looks great!
Elliot – one antler doesn’t look so good.

I like early kills.  It gives you plenty of time to dress it, skin it, and drive it into town to get it processed without having to worry about icing him down all night.  The best part is that by 2:30 pm we’re back out in the field.  And with mine out of the way we have the entire rest of the trip to focus on getting my son his first deer!

 Day 4 – Nov. 27: Sunday
Sunday school, lazy afternoon, Sunday evening worship service…  Love Sunday’s.  Then after church head back to the farm!

Day 5 – Nov. 28: Hunting
Another 5:30 morning.  Today we’ll hunt another great spot.  Trudge through the wheat field, and sit along the fence looking out over another field where the deer love to play.  I am definitely a little nervous at this spot.

*Flashback to 2009 – dreamy image – chimes sounding*
Along this same fence, sitting in a tree stand.  I was visited by not 1, or 2, but FIVE not-so-friendly bobcats.  It was definitely a mom and her 4 babies.  She was definitely teaching them how to stalk prey.  I got to be their prey.  Yay me. 

The bobcats surrounded MY tree and began hissing at me.  I was really not scared at the time.  These cats were pretty small, surely they would see the error of their way and run off.  I sure didn’t want to shoot my rifle at these things and scare the deer away. 

When two of them started climbing my tree – I decided I would have to shoot their momma and worry about the deer later.  As I turned to line up the shot, they scattered – and I was able to go back to hunting peaceably…  albeit with my ears tuned to the area around the base of the tree.

As soon as I got back to the farm-house I did some research and learned:
1. Bobcat season was open all the way through January 1st.
2. It’s pretty rare to see a bobcat in this area.
3. Bobcat prey on turkey, and mostly small prey – but are known to take down deer too…  if they could take a deer, they could take me.  Next time – shoot first, worry about scaring the deer away second.
*Dreamy image – chimes sounding – back to the future*

It looks like some one else has found this spot too.  They have a feeder set up in the north-east corner of the field – 250 yards away.   I’m glad they’re not here this morning.  My son needs a deer.  Again, sit for hours, nap, watch, listen for cats, nap, watch, listen for cats.  Oh look!  Another buck – way down by the feeder.  The boy stirs, adrenaline starts warming him up.  It’s 8:45 am – we watch from a distance for 30 minutes – no clear shots, can’t get him closer, the deer heads back into the woods – the boy has to go to the bathroom.  If we make it quick, we can get to the farm-house, let him do his thing, grab some breakfast, and be back in the field by 10 am – further along the fence toward the feeder a little bit.

We made it quick.  Much better spot – with a great view of the entire field.  Plenty of shooting angles.  Time for waiting, and watching, and napping.  The boy wakes me up right around 11 am:

“Psst – dad, look!”  Right there, 25 yards away, are three doe.  Momentarily paused in the middle of the field looking around for danger.

“Well, get your gun up.  Be slow.  Wait for them to stop moving.  Line it up, take your time.”  The doe bound off across the field.  No good shot.  But we’re both awake for a little while now.  There’ll be more.

Twenty minutes later, there are more.  Five more.  They cautiously come out and make their way to the middle of the field.  Very close to where we are.  These are moving slow, stopping every now and then to have a look-see.

Me to son: “Are you gonna shoot one?”

Son to me: “I think I want to wait for a buck – you shoot one.”

Okay…  I’ll shoot one…  Quickly line it up while they pause – squeeze the trigger – BANG!

She doesn’t go down.  We’re close enough, and my gun is powerful enough – she should have.  Instead, she runs a few steps, does one of those beautiful deer leaps, and runs with the others down a draw and into the woods.

Doh!  I must have missed.  I shouldn’t have rushed the shot.  Oh well, it’s lunch time.

We go back out that evening – but don’t see anything… 

And this is way too long – so:
To Be Continued…
Tune in next time to see if the boy gets his deer.

 
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Posted by on December 2, 2011 in My Life

 

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What is a Whoopie Pie?

Whoopieeeeeeee

This, my friends, is a Whoopie Pie.

By definition (according to Encarta World Dictionary) a “whoopie pie” is – (noun) – two-layer filled cake; a cake consisting of two layers with a moist filling.

That’s kind of redundant, isn’t it?  But then again – so is my definition of them:
Nom Nom Nom – nom-nom-nom-nom.

A whoopie pie is one of those strange “New England” things that is in my blood and still causes me to receive funny looks when my Oklahoma friends hear me talk about…  much like the “bubbler.”  A “bubbler” everywhere else in the world is called a water fountain – but in my world it’s a bubbler.

Recipe:
Whatever – you’re not getting mine… 
But if you google it you can find one. 
OR you could go to Walmart (Neighborhood Market on Rockwell & Hefner in OKC) and buy the Pillsbury boxed mix.  Of course, that won’t be anywhere near as good as homemade, from scratch.

The Honorable Treat:
Apparently in March some folks in Maine made a whoopie pie that weighed over 1,000 pounds, set the world record, and officially made it the “State Treat.”
What an honor.
Another honor afforded to the Whoopie Pie is the battle over who created the original whoopie pie.  The folks up in Maine claim they are the creators, but the Amish in Lancaster County Pennsylvania claim they were first.  Then some folks in Massachusetts decided to claim to be the first… 
Really, over a whoopie pie? 

Just eat it & be happy… 

 
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Posted by on November 19, 2011 in Musings, My Life

 

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