Cars

Day #16 of 31 Days of Storytelling

No, we are not talking about the movie Cars.

Just for real cars.

"Legit" my daughter would say.

She says that too much and not always in the right context.

I drive a Ford Freestyle. It is not the van but a "crossover" vehicle that they no longer make.

I grew up driving Fords.

My grandfather worked in a Ford factory for over 20 years and we got a discount.

This is the steering part that my grandfather made for Ford.
They gave it to him for retirement. It is heavy!

I made it a candle holder. I truly adore it.

But we have had a lot of problems with this Ford.

I will get to that in a minute.

I was in the big vehicle of a friend's a few weeks ago when she just drove over a grassy median in the parking lot of a restaurant. 

The car was so big she didn't see it.

I did.

So did our girlfriend in her car behind us.

She gave us a thumbs up

Still laughing!

out her window to ensure we knew just how much she saw of the Monster Truck Show.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration.

When my girlfriend dropped me off in the parking lot where my car was,

(Joann's, of course), 

I realized I had 10 minutes to make a 15 minute drive to pick my daughter up from school.

Yikes!

In my panic, I decided to see how many parking lots were connected along the very busy street, thus saving time.

I was surprised how many parking lots led to other parking lots allowing me a faster, no-pesky-traffic-lights-or-speed-limits drive.

I was giddy with the thrill of somehow "beating" the system and going too fast when my parking lots ended at a gas station. 

I had to enter a "legit" road again.

I thought the gas station parking lot I was exiting was the proper exit.

It wasn't. 

It had a narrow exit and the rest was curbed.

I figured that out in the long moment in the 

air when time seemed to stand still.

It was a Duke Boys moment.

But instead of a Bo or Luke Duke "Yee-haw!" when I hit the road,

I said, "Doh!" like Homer Simpson.

And slammed my knee against the bottom of the dashboard.

(I didn't realize the knee thing until I saw the ugly bruise in the shower the next morning. 

I actually thought to myself:  What did I do? Then it all came back to me.)

I prayed that no part of the car was still on the road when I looked in the rear view mirror.

It wasn't.

Or leaking fluid.

It wasn't.

I was just a few minutes late picking up my daughter.

I considered it a victory that I was still in a vehicle that was like, "legit", running.

I know, I am bugging myself, I will stop.

I told my husband there was a story with the car and asked if he wanted to hear it.

He didn't.

So I didn't tell him.

We helped with a Harvest Fest at church on Saturday.

While we were setting up, Monte asked me what was hanging off the underneath of my car.

Oopie!

I don't know.

It's running fine.

It's no big deal.

It may or may not have anything to do 
with my Duke Boys moment…

So Monte grabbed a hunk of wood from the unlit bonfire 

I just have to pause here

for effect

and started whacking the hangy-down thing with the hunk of wood.

The hangy-down thing would have none of it 

and didn't budge.

No one asked why Monte was beating the car with a stick.

On the way home from the Harvest Fest the wrench light came on in the car.

We both looked at each other in blame.

With good reason.

We found out this morning that the car needs a new million dollar transmission.

And it isn't that old.

But I don't consider a car old until it has over 100,000 miles on it.

This only has 68,000 and it is only 6 or 7 years old.

Practically brand new.

But not by "trade-in" standards.

So Monte weighed the trade-in value versus the price tag to fix the car and said,

"No thank you."

I didn't even know that was an option.

So the rest of the day has been back and forth on what kind of car I want 

(shrug) 

and how much we should pay for it.

(I shop at Dollar Tree)

The good news?

They fixed the hangy-down thing.

Just Another Saturday at the Vet

Day #15 of 31 Days of Storytelling

My husband took our dog, Nigel, for his regular visit to the vet on Saturday.

Our vet is also where we board our dog when we go on vacation.

So Nigel gets pretty nervous when we walk into that place.

He is either going to get a shot.

Or get left.

Nigel has gotten to be quite a handful on these visits, so I am glad Monte offered to take him.

Monte said he was trembling so bad that other people waiting pitied him.

Then in walks an elderly couple 

with a 45-pound cat.

Don't rush it.

Let it sink in.
45 pounds!

Monte said it looked more like a cat bean bag.

Because when he sat, he more or less (but mainly MORE) sat IN himself.

There was room.

Monte is allergic to cats.

Deathly allergic.

But he couldn't stop watching this circus-type freak show.

He actually felt sorry for the cat.

What in all the world do you feed a cat to make it THAT FAT?!

Whoppers? 

While Monte was enthralled with all this, a couple of guys with an ENORMOUS dog walks out of the examining room to pay for their visit.

The dog, Monte thought, was some sort of large Boxer in a bad mood.

One of his owners was going on and on

in a very expressive way 

(oh, WHY couldn't I have been there)

about the recent photo shoot he had put the dog through

dressing him up 

in various costumes and wigs.

He went into great detail about each photo shoot.

Monte did not.

The dog seemed to scream, "Help me!" to Monte.

With his eyes.

And Monte really wanted to help.

But Nigel,

all 13 pounds of him,

was trembling so much 

it took all of Monte's strength to keep him from fleeing

THE FREAK SHOW

that was just another Saturday at the vet.

Concert

Day #14 of 31 Days of Storytelling

Last Friday night we went to the 

(long awaited by our 13-year-old) 

Scotty McCreery concert.

Remember him from winning American Idol a few seasons ago?

Except it wasn't the Scotty McCreery concert.

It was the Brad Paisley concert.

FYI, he is married to Kimberly Williams from Father of the Bride.

I am no subscriber to People magazine, but I happen to know this bit of celebrity trivia.

Back to the concert…

Scotty was the opening act to the opening act.

He played for 25 minutes.

He sounded REALLY good.

McDaniel loved every minute of it.

She could've gone home then and been truly happy.

The Band Perry was the true opening act.

The lead singer's voice was rough for the first few songs then she BELTED out "Fat Bottom Girls" by Queen.

Awesome.

We have seen Brad Paisley before and he just doesn't disappoint.

But it was loud for this old bird. When we saw him before, it was an outdoor venue.

This was inside and it was LOUD.

And not just because of the speakers.

The big guy behind us

(Monte's age, I swear) 

screamed 

"I LOVE YOU BRAD PAISLEY!" 

and "THIS IS AWESOME!" 

and "I AM SO GLAD I AM HERE!" 

and "HALLELUJAH!"

72 times.

At first we tried to be polite and hide our snickers.

But after 15 or 16 screams, we flat out turned around and laughed out loud.

Then I wanted him to shut up.

But you had to admire his enthusiasm.

When is the last time you felt inspired to scream, "THIS IS AWESOME!"

or "HALLELUJAH!"?

I have a favorite home decor shop that I love to go into.

It is the kind of place I would open if I ever did such a thing as open a home decor shop.

 I could almost see myself screaming,

"I AM SO GLAD I AM HERE!" 

when I am in there.

Almost.

The concert got long.

I got sleepy.

There wasn't ice cream.

Or a snow cone

Or coffee

to keep me awake.

We left during the first encore.

I felt old.

This morning at church they showed a short video promoting the Samaritan's Purse ministry.

 It is where you donate a shoe box full of goodies for a child in poverty-stricken areas all over the world.

They are Christmas presents. 

For many, the first presents they have ever received.

Each box is prayed over.

In each box the gospel is presented.

Scotty McCreery appeared in the video helping to pack the boxes in his home state of North Carolina and then we saw him distributing the boxes to the children in Dominican Republic--

in person.

Anyone that knew McDaniel well, 

turned their gaze on her when he hit the screen.

Scotty said something amazing,

"It is cool to think that maybe somebody will be with me in heaven as a result of one of the boxes I help pack."

"HALLELUJAH!"

A Dog and A Pig…?

Day #13 of 31 Days of Storytelling

I will explain the title.

But just not yet.

Haven't you figured out by now that I never do?

We have had Nigel, our Schnoodle,  for 5 years.

We got him when our youngest, Ellie, was in kindergarten.

I knew that if we waited another year when she was gone all day in the 1st grade, I would've tasted the sweetness of freedom and NEVER agreed to get SOMETHING else that needed caring for.

So we got him while I still had a kid home half days.

My husband didn't want me to get lonely during those l-o-n-g 3 hours of freedom.

He's considerate like that.

So we got Nigel when he weighed only 4 pounds.

He was (and still is) precious.

Nigel turning 5 on his birthday in August.
That is his new blue toy, Bo-Bo.

Look at the way he is giving Ellie a hug.
He is such a lover.

Smiling.

Not smiling.

Our vet had to remind us when we first got him to put him down so he could walk around every now and then.

We carried him everywhere!

(Still do.)

The other night during dinner, Ellie dropped on us that she wants a pig for Christmas.

This isn't the first time she's mentioned it but we didn't take her seriously before.

She meant it this time.

She explained that "someone" (don't believe it) she knows has a teacup pig and they are tiny and cute and NO TROUBLE.

Oh, My. Goodness.

How could we have a teacup pig and
NOT get it red boots?

So, to Monte's chagrin, we allowed ourselves to IMAGINE life with a teacup pig.

It would wear a tutu. Duh…!

Its little hooves would make an adorable click, click click on our hardwood floors.

It would be named Ignacious but called Iggy. So we could call it Iggy the Piggy.

Tell me that's not adorable!

We were already in love with Iggy.

She would sleep with us.

Nigel would love her and be such a protective big brother.

Monte would have no problem walking Iggy down the street wearing a tutu.

Right?

Monte sprinkled a little reality on our pig dreams and told us to research it.

I did a little looksee on the Google to verify Ellie's story of NO TROUBLE teacup pigs.

Big. 

Fat. 

Lie.

These teacup or pixie pigs as they are sometimes called, are extremely intelligent.

(as is our Nigel, sweet thing sleeping on the chair right now needing NOTHING from me, bless him!)

These mini pigs are so smart they can open lower cabinets in search of food.

What?!

I need to see that (in this "someone's" house, not mine).

They also can't regulate their body temperature so you need to keep them covered in blankets. They also walk around dragging their favorite blankie around with them.

Sounds like a toddler.

They get attached to a certain show on television or song on the radio and if you turn it off, they become despondent until you turn it back on.

Long pause. 

Did you just hear my eyebrows raise?

Sounds like a teenager.

(She said with a shudder.)

They are not like dogs who become trained to "go" outside. They "go" in boxes or on paper. But they are so small that if you put the said box or paper too far from them they 

can't. 

physically. 

make it. 

to. 

the. 

paper. 

They just give up and go on your floor. 

Or rug. 

Or kitchen cabinet since they are in there anyway scavenging for food.

Sounds WAY too much like a cat.

Monte is deathly allergic to cats.

I just hate them.

If the pigs haven't been conditioned enough by the breeders, they will scream like a baby every time you pick them up.

And they can't eat anything salty.

And you have to introduce them slowly to your existing pets.

Nigel is only 13 pounds, but judging on the way he chases

rabbits 

and squirrels 

and birds 

and chipmunks 

and the mailman

around the yard, 

this little piggy would be screaming

wee, 

wee, 

wee 

all the way home.

Home meaning not here.

From End Table to Bedside Table

Day #12 of 31 Days of Storytelling

A year ago my girlfriend gave me this fantastic end table

(thanks, Beth!) 

that had been given to her by her husband's grandmother.

I knew RIGHT AWAY what I wanted to do with it.

But I let it sit in my garage for almost a year before I did anything with it.

I could give you many excuses why.

Like, I needed my dad's help and he lives 4 hours away.

Like, It was starting to get cold and spray paint doesn't like cold weather.

Like, I just showered and I don't want to get dirty.

But I won't.

Let's just say, I didn't get to it until later.

Nigel posing with the table.

When Beth gave it to me it was a low end table height with short legs.

Sorry. I didn't take pictures of it in its original form. Think 1970s.

I had my dad make longer legs so it could become a bedside table.

This table is solid and HEAVY.

I knew I wanted the table to be red.

I bought Monte a red bedside table at a flea market a few years ago and I have been

just 

downright 

jealous of it.

Love all the storage space. Don't love how I didn't wipe all
the dust off before I took this picture.

I am an avid reader and needed a table with lots of storage for my books. This one has it.

Look at these beauties.

I decided to go the easy route and spray painted the whole thing with a primer first (since the legs were raw wood).

I chose a glossy red spray paint. (It took a few cans.)

And a hammered bronze for the handles.

I sprayed a protective coat just on the top (since I always bring a glass of water with me to bed.)

I LOVE it!

And I am NO LONGER jealous of Monte's bedside table.

Mine is bigger.

Fripp Island

Day #11 of 31 Days of Storytelling

With all this scary tree stump talk, it made me think of an incident we had on vacation this summer.

We go to Fripp Island, South Carolina.

Not every year, but most.

We've celebrated more of my daughter Ellie's birthdays there than at home.

It is just a special, laid back, I can relax there like NO WHERE ELSE kinda place.

We love it for so many reasons.

There's this.

And this. Isn't Spanish moss the most amazing mood setter?
I can't be in a hurry if there is Spanish moss around.

Deer are everywhere. Small deer. They say not to feed them.
But we do.

Alligators are everywhere too. They say not to feed them.
And we don't.
Monte tries to see how close he can get to one
each year. He and my dad have gotten REALLY close to
one golfing. But that's a whole other story…

I LOVE this picture.

Our favorite place to buy seafood. It was where the
shrimp boat scenes in Forrest Gump were filmed.

YUM!

We drive around the island in a golf cart.

We decided one evening while we were at Fripp to go find this area of trees where the egrets all hang out together.

We remembered seeing it a few years before and wondered if they still went to the spot.

They did!

This picture doesn't begin to capture the STORY of being there.

It was the edge of a golf course.

And there were SO MANY egrets.

It was completely silent except for their hooting type whistles to each other.

We found out later it is called "tooting".

(tee-hee)

Which explains the restaurant in Beaufort called the "Tooting Egret".

Dusk was coming on and we were the ONLY people there.

Watching

and listening

and looking at each other

and trying to take it all in 

because WE KNEW

how God-awesome special 

this moment was.

Like when Monte got up early to see the sunrise and while riding his bike to the ocean saw a momma deer nudge her baby deer right in the bottom to get out of the middle of the road so Monte could ride by.

SPECIAL!

The girls wanted to get closer and closer but I didn't want them to spoil this amazing view. 

So afraid that one loud noise 

would cause the egrets all to take flight 

and leave this place 

and us 

and our special moment.

So I made them tiptoe.

And be absolutely quiet.

Our girls trying to tip-toe.

Silently watching.

In the midst of our happy nature show, Monte asked us (quietly) if we felt like we were being watched.

Ok.

When someone asks you that, 

it is because they already KNOW that you indeed 

are being watched.

I looked around for some golfers or the greens maintenance crew.

Afraid we were in trouble.

(Remember? I am a rule follower, except for the feeding of the deer.)

Monte pointed 

straight 

up.

Vultures!!

Vultures in a dead tree!!

We didn't even realize we were standing underneath a dead tree. We were so focused on looking out at the egrets that we didn't look UP.

And there were VULTURES!

Watching us!!

With meanish, hungry eyes.

We screamed, of course. 

And ran back to the golf cart. 

Then back to the tree to look closer and take pictures. 

Then screamed again. 

And ran back to the golf cart and drove home.

(Poor Monte with all us girls.)

It was all so Snow White and the Seven Dwarves when the mean witch fell off the mountain and the vultures started circling in the air above her with their meanish hungry eyes. 

Am I right? 

And you KNEW they were going to eat her.

I think this is what our stump tree looks like in our front yard:

The Fripp Island vulture tree.

You know, I didn't even notice if the egrets all flew away when we screamed.