Mitchell Way
I was lamenting to my wife Cheryl a few years back about being out of shape and how the young muscular guys at work were giving me a complex. She was quick to remind me that the best I could hope for was a simplex. Then she suggested that we take the grandkids on a hike in the mountains.
I found it hard to explain to my daughter Kalene that there were no such thing as haunted toilets. After my traumatic experience, I had a hard time convincing myself.
From the laundry room came a piercing scream … “My delicate underwear is completely tangled with your Velcro helmet liner! How many times have I told you…”?
I tried calming the situation by assuring her, “Don’t worry dear, good commercial grade Velcro is hard to damage.”
I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast as Cheryl entered with a large ball of fabric just taken from the dryer. I could tell by the look on her face that I would be buying new underwear when suddenly she looked out the back window and realized she had left the porch umbrella up all night.
“Oh crumb! Look at the umbrella rocking back and forth in the wind. I’d better go out there and collapse it before it gets torn to shreds.”
I was just out in my tool shed looking through some old cottage cheese containers which I use to hold nails, nuts, washers, bolts, and screws etc. I learned of this storage technique from the old man who lived behind me named Swede. He was a course speaking old man with a temper, but I was the only person he had for a son, so he put up with me. Swede taught me many things about hunting, fishing, bee keeping, and gardening, and he kept every spare nut, bolt, and washer in cottage cheese containers in his shed. I inherited them when he died. My only complaint was that he never would wash out the containers before he would fill them with stuff and today, I am trying to find one 3/8-16 x 3.5” bolt as I hold my breath while rummaging through one rancid cottage cheese container after another.
I met a man sitting on a sidewalk bench in Lynden the other day. He had a heavy Chicago Bears sweatshirt on, and it was obvious to me that he wasn’t a local.
I had a nudge from my inner self to say “hi”. He was a nice guy, but it was hard for me to understand the inner city slang he was using. Basically, I understood that he was in the county visiting a brother who had moved out from Chicago. The brother was encouraging him to move out before he got shot in the streets.
Iris and Lincoln Stodge live at 1835 Fernhook Lane, a very long drive through fields of corn which ends at the base of the Whatcom Timber Reserve. Iris and Lincoln are fourth and fifth graders.
Cheryl and I have visited four of the Hawaiian islands: Oahu, Kauai, The Big Island, and Maui.
I would rate them as #1 Kauai, #2 The Big Island, #3 Maui, and #4 Oahu. This is based on things that interest me.
What does it take to turn a dream into reality?
First, you must believe in yourself and, with a little luck, have others believe in you too.
To tell you the truth, it wasn’t until my late 20s that I learned the word hierarchy and the medical term pes cavus weren’t the same thing. I should never trust the images in my mind.
“Good evening, sir. My name is Officer Luke. My partner, Officer Lease, is in the next room talking with your wife.”
“Talking about what?”
“The hospital,” Officer Luke continued, “is required to call us when they suspect domestic violence.”
“What are you brooding about today?”
I am standing in the kitchen staring out the back window at the lawn. Cheryl has snuck up behind me with a steaming cup of coffee.
“I want five months, just five months. Is that too much to ask?” I grumbled. “I mean, it’s October 14th. I should have mowed the lawn for the last time but look at it. It’s still growing! It’s got to be that flippin’ El Niño.”
“Are you wishing for cold and rain?” she asked.
“No, but I am wishing for less work and I’m on a time schedule. You see, I know that in late March or April the spring grass is going to start madly growing and that will begin my seven months of yardwork, so the sooner it stops growing now, the more time off I’ll have until it starts growing again. I also told Chris at the mower shop that I would bring the mower in as soon as I stopped mowing so he could winterize it, but each week I look at the lawn and it needs a mowing again.”
“Yes, but look at the hanging baskets. They still have blooms on them. Don’t they look pretty?”
“It’s mid-October! We don’t need hanging baskets. We need frost on the pumpkins. We need birds in the feeders. We need squirrels skittering around the porch eating from the plate of corn I set out for them. And another thing – look at the leaves on the birch tree. They are still hanging there.”
“They are so pretty. Don’t you love their golden color?”
“It’s all about mother nature’s delay of game. You see, once a year I clean out the gutters. I can’t clean them out until the leaves have fallen off the trees. What would be the point? I could clean them out today and next week we will get a strong south wind which will blow the leaves off the trees and fill the gutters back up again. I’m only doing it once. I’ve got half a mind to go out there and slap the trunk of the tree with a stick to shake those darn leaves off.”
“I can see someone with half a mind doing that, dear. Think of the positive attributes of a mild fall – we don’t have to run the furnace yet. You know how you always go into a coma when you see the heating bill each month. When El Nino really gets started, it’s the same thing each year – you stand here in the kitchen staring out the window at the rain or the snow and you are in a fowl mood because it is cold and wet outside, and you wish the weather would just warm up again.”
“Four seasons. That’s all I ask. Four on time seasons. I’m on a schedule.”
“Well since you have nothing to do but to stare out the window, why don’t you help me to move some furniture?”
“You know if I had time, I would definitely do that dear. I think the first thing on my agenda today is to go out into the front yard and beat that birch tree with a stick.”
“My creatively impatient husband. I’ll make you some cocoa.”
Faith Family Life Getting Older Growing Up Misadventures Music Patriotism Pets or Pests? Serving Others Snips Tributes
It was 5:45 on a Friday night as we smoked up the North State Street hill in our 1953 Buick. My best friend, Chuck, and I were sitting in the back seat. Mom was driving. We were on our way to the Bellingham Armory for the annual Alderwood Elementary School skate night.
“Grandpa, do you believe in fairies?”
My granddaughter, Kate, was sitting next to me on the couch. We had just finished watching the movie, Fairy Tale, a True Story.
“Well, ah, do I believe in fairies? Let’s see.”
I’ve used bicycles for a great many things. I used one for delivering newspapers. I used one to test my theory of flight. I currently ride an e-bike eleven miles each way to the gym. There are also a few things that I haven’t used the bicycle for . . . because blasted Cheryl put her foot down.
The truck and utility trailer were swung into position at the dump. I could see behind me in my rear-view side mirrors, the environmental block barrier, and the open-top garbage shipping containers. The attendant was pointing at a space between two other pickups.