After filling all our recycling bins and trash cans, the garage was empty enough to move Ev's stuff from storage ($116 per month) into the garage. That was just too much fun, along with a trip to the library to donate old magazines [they loved 'em] and two trips to Alpha Thrift to rid ourselves with some over-sized and unneeded bits-o-tid. Everything fits reasonably well, except his mattress and box spring. That's all that's left in the storage locker, for now.
So, somehow I thought that I would get to the resurrection of the Vette, since I spent about three hours last weekend changing the battery, but not yet. I am beat. Maybe manana.
While we were working in the garage, Max was tethered out front so he could see us and protect us from the neighbors! He liked that. I had to take him for a walk around the block before he would settle down. The truth that I spelled out yesterday is definitely true. When it is time to eat, Max has to make room first!!! He is a small dog with a big heart!
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The Washington Post recently had a contest wherein participants were asked to tell the younger generation how much harder they had it "in the old days.
" Winners, runners-up, and honorable mentions are listed below.
Second Runner-Up:
In my day, we couldn't afford shoes, so we went barefoot.
In winter, we had to wrap our feet with barbed wire for traction.
First Runner-Up:
In my day, we didn't have MTV or in-line skates, or any of that stuff. No, it was 45s and regular old metal-wheeled roller skates, and the 45s always skipped, so to get them to play right you'd weigh the needle down with something like quarters, which we never had because our allowances were way too small, so we'd
use our skate keys instead and end up forgetting they were taped to the record player arm so that we couldn't adjust our skates, which didn't really matter because those crummy metal wheels would kill you if you hit a pebble anyway, and in those days roads had real pebbles on them, not like today.
And the winner:
In my day, we didn't have rocks.
We had to go down to the creek and wash our clothes by beating them with our heads.
Honorable Mentions:
In my day, we didn't have fancy health-food restaurants. Every day we ate lots of easily recognizable animal parts, along with potatoes.
In my day, we didn't have hand-held calculators. We had to do addition on our fingers. To subtract, we had to have some fingers amputated.
In my day, we didn't get that disembodied, slightly ticked-off voice saying 'Doors closing.' We got on the train, the doors closed, and if your hand was sticking out, it scraped along the tunnel all the way to the next station and it was a bloody stump at the end. But the base fare was only a dollar.
In my day, we didn't have water. We had to smash together our own hydrogen and oxygen atoms.
Kids today think the world revolves around them. In my day, the sun revolved around the world, and the world was perched on the back of a giant tortoise.
Back in my day, '60 Minutes' wasn't just a bunch of gray-haired, liberal 80-year-old guys. It was a bunch of gray-haired, liberal 60-year-old guys. .
In my day, we didn't have virtual reality. If a one-eyed razorback barbarian warrior was chasing you with an ax, you just had to hope you could outrun him.
Back in my day, they hadn't invented electricity. We had to watch television by candlelight.
In my day, we didn't have Strom Thurmond. Oh, wait. Yes we did
NEW DOG BREEDS!
Collie + Lhasa Apso Collapso, a dog that folds up for easy transport
Spitz + Chow Chow
Spitz-Chow, a dog that throws up a lot
Pointer + Setter
Poinsetter, a traditional Christmas pet
Great Pyrenees + Dachshund
Pyradachs, a puzzling breed
Pekingnese + Lhasa Apso
Peekasso, an abstract dog
Irish Water Spaniel + English Springer Spaniel
Irish Springer, a dog fresh and clean as a whistle
Labrador Retriever + Curly Coated Retriever
Lab Coat Retriever, the choice of research scientists
Newfoundland + Basset Hound
Newfound Asset Hound, a dog for financial advisors
Terrier + Bulldog
Terribull, a dog that makes awful mistakes
Bloodhound + Labrador
Blabador, a dog that barks incessantly
Malamute + Pointer
Moot Point, owned by.... oh, well, it doesn't matter anyway
Deerhound + Terrier
Derriere, a dog that's true to the end
Bull Terrier + ShihTzu
Oh, never mind....
Once there was a British admiral who always wore a red coat when they were in a battle. One day one of his men asked why he always put on the red coat when they were in battle. The admiral replied, "That's so if I am wounded then neither the enemy or my crew will realize I've been hurt". And using this principle, to this day, French officers have always worn brown pants!
Even if you aren't a skier, you'll be able to appreciate the
humor of the slopes as written in this account by a New Orleans
paper.
A friend just got back from a holiday ski trip to Utah with the
kind of story that warms the cockles of anybody's heart.
Conditions were perfect, 12 below, no feeling in the toes, basic
numbness all over, the "tell me when we're having fun" kind of
day. One of the women in the group complained to her husband that
she was in dire need of a restroom.
He told her not to worry, that he was sure there was relief
waiting at the top of the lift in the form of a powder room for
female skiers in distress.
He was wrong, of course, and the pain did not go away. If you've
ever had nature hit its panic button in you, then you know that a
temperature of 12 below zero doesn't help matters.
So, with time running out, the woman weighed her options. Her
husband, picking up on the intensity of her pain, suggested that
since she was wearing an all white ski outfit, she should go off
in the woods. No one would even notice, he assured her. The white
would provide more than adequate camouflage.
So she headed for the tree line, began disrobing and proceeded to
do her thing. If you've ever parked on the side of a slope, then
you know there is a right way and a wrong way to set your skis so
you don't move.
Yup, you got it. She had them positioned the wrong way. Steep
slopes are not forgiving, even during embarrassing moments.
Without warning, the woman found herself skiing backward, out of
control, racing through the trees, somehow missing all of them
and onto another slope.
Her derriere and her reverse side were still bare, her pants
down around her knees, and she was picking up speed all the
while. She continued on backwards, totally out of control,
creating an unusual vista for the other skiers. The woman skied,
if you define that verb loosely, back under the lift, and finally
collided violently with a pylon.
The bad news was that she broke her arm and was unable to pull
up her ski pants.
At long last her husband arrived, putting an end to her nudie
show, then went to the base of the mountain and summoned the ski
patrol, who transported her to a hospital.
In the emergency room she was regrouping when a man with an
obviously broken leg was put in the bed next to hers.
"So how'd you break your leg?" she asked, making small talk.
"It was the damnedest thing you ever saw," he said, "I was riding
up this ski lift, and suddenly I couldn't believe my eyes. There
was this crazy woman skiing backward out of control down the
mountain with her bare bottom hanging out of her clothes and her
pants down around her knees. I leaned over to get a better look,
and I guess I didn't realize how far I'd moved. I fell out of the
lift. So, how'd you break your arm?"
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