Buffy the Fire Ant Slayer
Buffy the Fire Ant Slayer
I am not so pompous that I would call myself “Jack of All Trades, Master of None,” but I do know a few good things about a few good things. And now add one more: Fire Ant Slayer.
I was cleaning up my back yard and spotted a wayward piece of sheet metal lying on the ground that had been previously left on a single-axle car dolly I sold to a friend last week. Granted, I usually flip large objects over before lifting or moving them in the yard, as I have had my share of running from Black Widow spiders and various kinds of snakes (except Rattlers – they usually smell like a goat, I was taught as a young southern hunter in dark woods, Alabama – HIIEE-YAH!- take that)!
But today, I suppose I wanted to live on the wild side - the bumpy, blistered, red-rising, insect-bite-my-ass side – because I just haven’t had a good ol’ BUG BITE since I was, I don’t know, twelve or thirteen?
Before I knew what the heck I was doing, the wayward piece of sheet metal was in the air above my head, on its way to the high side of my deck, and- WHAT THA- I felt little specks of something falling all over me. Ever had that burst of raw panic that engulfs you when you realize that the most idiotic choice you could muster has landed you right slap dab in the middle of a hoard of insects or monstrous enemies of some sort? I dropped the wayward piece of sheet metal somewhere in the yard and took off running for my back door, flailing my arms around and chanting “Oh God, help me!” over and over. I was wearing a light colored t-shirt before the fire ants fell from the sheet metal to my my head upper torso, and after, the t-shirt was blackened with many biting ants!
I happened to make it inside before coming out of my clothes. The scene was probably comical, looking like Ace Ventura when he thought he had bats in his hair – of course, I did have tiny monsters in my hair. After jumping in the shower and looking myself over in the mirror about twenty times, the war was on!
I dug fire ant killer and every insecticide and garden bug killer, even flying bug/wasp spray from the garage and manned myself with a high-powered sprayer hose, a cigarette lighter, and a gallon or so of gasoline and approached the anthills in my back yard. Neighbors have now dubbed me “Buffy the Fire Ant Slayer,” and with good reason. Not a hill was left standing. Most of my grass is burnt away, too.
I have learned a great lesson from this, however. One is that those anthills can be very deep in the ground and it may not be a good idea to load them with gas and set them ablaze. The other lesson? Praying “Oh God, help me,” while running and flailing your arms can do great good: I only ended up with five bites from the little devils :)
Shoplifting an Estate Sale
Shoplifting an Estate Sale
This past weekend I helped a good friend put on an estate sale because her elderly father is moving into an assisted living apartment. We priced, hung, displayed, organized, inventoried, boxed, bagged, and separated so many things that meant so much to her and her family. Once Saturday morning arrived, we opened her father’s house to the public.
Signs had been posted, classified ads in the local paper had been placed two weeks prior, and it seemed all roads led to Rome as the community descended on the “Mother of an Estate Sale,” as we had so named it. But something was bugging me. Something had been overlooked.
As the entourage filled the house and began to pilfer the items my friend’s father allowed us to sell for him, that overlooked thing that had been bugging me came clear and I turned to whisper to my friend, “We are going to be robbed blind, Girl!” She winced and scanned our immediate area to make sure no one heard my comment, then returned my obviously ridiculous statement with, “Jeanne! These people won’t steal from us! Goodness sake, we live in the Bible Belt!”
I told her these dear people will leave their Bibles at home and hide her stuff under their belts! And I set out to prove it to her as well as to satiate that bugging thing deep in my belly.
There are a few things I will never be completely free of since I am a *REFORMED* felon, but “Class A” felon, nonetheless: one is that I do not trust another living soul outside my husband and daughters. The second is that I love video surveillance, but no longer use it to have a jump on the cops approaching my home. The third is that I do not trust another living soul, well, you get the idea.
I jumped in my Jeep and flew to my house to gather the essentials for creating a back-room security den that would have made Wal-Mart security heads give a Tim Allen, “Oh-oh-oh!” About an hour later I had two monitors and a converted 13” black and white television showing me the most hidden parts of my friends’ home. Not more than fifteen minutes into the “patrol,” a middle-aged female entered a back bathroom and quickly stuffed two antique candle holders into her baggy purse. I had my daughter locate and bring my friend to the “security room.”
She was livid. She asked me if I had relapsed! She actually wondered if I were high! I answered, “Just watch, Kim! Just watch!” A few moments later, same middle aged female, same bathroom, and this time she was struggling to hide a small McCoy flower pot anywhere she could. Kim gasped and screamed, “Stop her, Jeanne!”
I was having a ball up until that point. I had forgotten security detail may include confrontation and I suck at confrontations. I detest a confrontation. But I mustered all the “Do the Right Thing” stuff I had in me and went to confront the lady.
She was heading to the little desk we had set up as a pay counter, of sorts, and I saw my chance. I duck-dodged-scampered to the chair beside the desk that Kim’s seven-year old Gracie occupied and scooped her into my lap as I took a seat and the Bible Belt Shoplifter approached. Fortunately, Gracie believes my crazy antics to be genuine fun and did not object. As the lady paid for a pair of Etienne Aigner boots that Kim’s late mother had worn maybe twice, I reached for a bag and declared, “I appreciate you saving us the trouble of bagging the other items, but I really need to see the price tag on them as my memory doesn’t serve me well in remembering the total – we sure priced a lot of things yesterday!”
I paused and waited, my finger motionless a few inches above the calculator keys. She was noticeably flustered, and to my complete delight over not having to endure a confrontation, the lady removed the two candle holders and a tiny McCoy flower pot from her oversized purse. I believe she mentioned something about being accustomed to carrying a shopping bag and had just plain forgotten about the items, but I was wallowing in a bit of “I was right, I was right, neener-neener-neener,” and cannot recall her exact words.
The rest of the weekend, Kim manned the security monitors and me and Gracie collected the dough. Yeah, a few things made me think about this past weekend. I cannot believe someone would steal from a precious, elderly man who allowed his eldest daughter to put a price tag on his memories because it made her happy to “do her part” in his transition from independence to assisted living. But I knew it would happen. Looking back, I wish I had been wrong. I still would have sang the little jingle to Gracie, though slightly different: “I was wrong, I was wrong, neener-neener-neener.”
There's Always Time to Smile
There's Always Time to Smile
So I'm perusing the new file downloads on my Metacafe program (www.metacafe.com), wincing every now and then at a photo or video that I know must have hurt the subject like hell, and I run across these photos that are absolutely hilarious!
If I could just find the folks in the motel room bed dive photo, I would tell them what an uproariously happy time they probably give to their friends and family :)
And isn't that just about the most incredible thing someone can do for another? To give a smile and laughter - genuine ones, now, not over corny stuff - is probably one of the greatest abilities the Lord blessed mankind with. You agree?
Smile today . . . there's enough time to Rant tomorrow :) Make someone else smile also! My best to you and yours :)
Humor Was a Gift He Freely Gave Us
Humor Was a Gift He Freely Gave Us
March 1 of this year, my brother-in-law was killed in a car wreck. He was thrown from the vehicle and died moments later. It was a trajedy that could have been prevented had he worn his safety belt.
Jeffrey Lynn Carreker was a man who loved to make others laugh. A few weeks ago, my husband and I were talking about his true-to-life, almost sarcastic wit that always kept us in stitches.
The Vehicle Safety ads found on this page, though a bit "over the top" for some, are definitely the type humor he appreciated, and to be able to further the cause of motorist safety on our roads and highways is another good thing that I know makes him smile.
In your honor, Jeff, we continue the journey for you. We miss you so much more than we ever knew we would.
Until we reach for each other's arms again, here's to your unwavering spirit of joy.
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