rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “North Texas”

The County Fair, Part II

County fairs are so much fun, with all the vendors selling everything imaginable. The sideshows, the rides, (which I do not attempt) and , of course, the food, which I clearly DO attempt. There were concerts each night with several name stars performing. We were only there for Friday night, and the concert featured The Triumphs, a band from Rosenberg, Texas. They were an outstanding band and starred B.J. Thomas, with special guest, Roy Head. Roy is old school, very popular in the 60’s and 70’s. We were pleased to visit with him at the hotel where we both were staying, even meeting his wife. They also enjoyed holding one of the “Rancherette’s” little Silkie chickens. Later, we attended the show. Since we are of that generation, it was very entertaining for us. The “Rancherette” was fortunate to get a “selfie” with him.  It has been difficult to live with her ever since.

jennie-and-roy-head

While the entire fair is exciting, I think the main focus is on the kids, the youth who participate and show their animals. These young people work very hard to care for these animals and reap the rewards for such endeavors. If you have never been to a county fair, you can only imagine how many sheep, goats, cattle, pigs, ducks, geese and chickens these kids have entered in competition for various awards, scholarships and sportsmanship trophies. They receive  medals, belt buckles, plaques and other prizes. They experience the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, yet they hold their heads high and show good sportsmanship to each other. Time and again I watched these youngsters compete with their animals. The judges for these premier competitions are extremely helpful to the young people. They explain different aspects of their particular animals and always in a helpful manner with words of encouragement for each one. I am in awe of the maturity of these youngsters. I think the country is in good hands when these young people reach adulthood. I also want to commend all the adult volunteers who help make this a great time for these kids. And hats off to the Fayette County Fair officials, great job.

The segment that inspired me the most and gave me particular pleasure occurred when a very young girl entered the show ring leading her heifer as her grandfather walked beside her. It was a very moving picture. I spoke to her grandfather after they finished and he told me that “they like to start them young”. A lack of wisdom on my part, I did not get their names.
grandaughter-and-grandfather-2

For me, however, this was the sparking event of the fair. That is, except for the awards the “Rancherette” received for her birds. She did well, but then she was not up against the youth either.

Our part of the show ended and you know what that meant, a four hour drive back home in North Texas with harassing among chickens. It has to stop. If I could have just send these birds home via FEDEX or UPS, then I would have had a quiet ride home.Should have stopped at Walmart and bought a pair of ear plugs. because you know the birds in the back discussed all the way home, cackling, squawking, and crowing about how some birds won a ribbon and some did not.

Just take a look at the gloating after we arrived back home. This may be the Silkie that Roy Head was holding at the hotel. Regardless, she definitely has a big head, flippant little chicken!

just-a-strutin-2

Check out the county fair where you live, you will certainly enjoy it.                                               Have a great day.

Advertisements

THE COUNTY FAIR, Part I

Many of my readers know that I have experienced some heath issues these past few months. Thankfully, I can say that I am recovering nicely and beginning to hold my own, partly, thanks to steroids and definitely thanks to God. So, in a manner of speaking I was able to take a side trip this past Labor Day weekend from our North Texas home to La Grange, Texas. The “Rancherette” was showing her prized Silkie and Cochin bantams at the Fayette County, Texas Fair. La Grange is a great little town. This was our second trip to La Grange and we thoroughly enjoyed it.
So we began our trip with a pickup load of chickens. Let me assure you, they ride in their custom made chicken containers in the back seat of the cab. The seats fold up, thus creating room for these spoiled fowl. They have the air conditioner vents spaced in such a fashion, that each bird practically has their own personal vent. Wonder how all this fits? Well, the ice chest with all the drinks and snacks for humans, along with the expensive luggage, rides in the bed of the truck. Obviously, if one needs a drink or any other personal item, I pull over and climb in the pickup bed to obtain such creature comforts. One can probably identify with the priority.
The trip was fun, if you can understand chicken language. Because space is limited, some birds must share their crates with each other. The hens are cackling, causing one to think eggs are being laid. Wrong, they are communicating with each other, discussing the pros and cons of traveling to a chicken show, like which chicken is going to win and squabbling and arguing with each other. I’m thinking that we were not 10 miles down the road before they began asking, “Are we there yet?” Sometimes, they quarrel and fight and then blame the other for starting it. “You started it”, did not, did too”. When this happens they must disciplined. The “Rancherette” is in charge of discipline. I suggested she use the code words, CHICKEN NUGGETS!, however, she disagreed. If you have children, you will understand the personalities of fowl.
When the “Rancherette” scolds them, most of the time it doesn’t work. When it seems to make a difference, they cease cackling and begin pecking on the bottom of their crates. You may think they are only pecking, however; they actually are speaking in Morse code. It is a trick to confuse us humans, thinking, of course, we do not understand. They do not know I was in the military and can understand every utterance. Then, if that is not enough, the roosters get in on the act with their crowing. The “Rancherette” encourages it even farther by pitting Cowboy, the bantam Cochin against Zorba, the Silkie, in dueling squawks. First Zorba crows, then the “Rancherette” says, “your turn, Cowboy”. And back and forth, they crow. Meanwhile, the hens are still engaged with their Morse code. Reminds me of the movies where the incarcerated rattle their tin cups against the bars and pass notes from one cell to another. The “Rancherette’s” chickens are very smart, but they do not possess the skills to write notes. Therefore, they use codes so the correctional officers will not understand.

And one other thing, the next trip I am going to record some chicken songs on a CD for these birds to listen while we travel. Songs like, “Ain’t Nobody Here but us Chickens, or Ray Steven and the Hen House 5’s version of “In the Mood”.  If you wish to hear their favorite ditty, click on  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PENJxl-THS8. The chickens just love this version.

The last thing I need in the back seat of my truck is a flock of chickens dancing to the tune of the “Chicken Dance”, so that one will not be included. And to think, this is only the first leg, we must still travel back home with these bickering little birds.

Have a great day and Stay tuned for Part II

The Day of the Storm

This winter of 2015/2016 has been one for the record books. I do not believe I have ever experienced the ups and downs, twists and turns and such variable temperatures as the season has brought us so far this year. I believe that you, the reader, no matter where you live, may have gone through much of the same.

I felt a little poem coming on to support my assumption. This week, in Texas, and especially North Texas where I live, has been very wet and stormy, with high winds, tornadoes and flash flooding. Thus far, it has been as described.                                         My poem illustrates only one day. I simply called it,

The Day of the Storm

The morning breaks silently
with a formidable mist in the air.
Still, the forthcoming day
will bring unenviable clamor.
lightning will flaunt the heavens
Thunder will roar across the sky.

As the morning comes to a close
the orderliness of routine
will inconveniently cease to exist.
marauding winds will subdue the calm.
Unforgiving and intolerant
The rage in the air will angrily erupt.

Midday illustrates fearfulness
Yet it is serene calmness that
Placates a few, alarms several,
Even concerns many, for
the disarray will have its day
And the rains will stalk the stillness.

The night will bring more turmoil
Darkness and storms convey fear
Anxiety will increasingly intensify
As the hours, dwindle away
We search for reassurance
That will put our minds at ease.

and the annual seasonal events
will share the tranquility with
the turbulence and the tension.
Yet the serenity of composure
Will abide in the comfort of
knowing Who is in control.

Pete Robertson
March 2016

The Hat

In Bible study last Sunday morning the subject of wearing hats in church was put out there for comments. Is it or is it not in the Bible? That certainly put a “Bee in someone’s bonnet”, I’m pretty sure I do not want a Bee in my bonnet. But, then, I’m not about to wear a bonnet either. My grandmother wore a bonnet. Maybe if I did wear a bonnet I might not have to make a regularly scheduled trip to the dermatologist.

I do have a western straw hat that I wear when I am in my “Rancherwriterpoet” disguise. One can only wear a straw hat in the summer. It bears a resemblance to the rule that says you are not to suppose to wear white after Labor Day. I don’t think that is in the Bible. If someone says it is, then, they are “Talking through their hat”. And if someone finds it, I will consider “eating my hat”.

Someone suggested that we should “Put on our thinking cap”. I haven’t had a thinking cap since the first grade and even then it was a pointed hat. I confess, I did not wear that “cap” voluntarily. The teachers of my day had a way of “wearing many hats”. I’m certain that that aspect has not changed. In some situations, the hat they wore brought fear. In my case, the most feared teacher was “Coach Knight” and his Board of Education.

Here in Texas, you will see two types of hats. The Baseball cap ( or any number of what is called “gimmee” caps) and the cowboy hat. The baseball cap does not really make you a baseball player nor does it metamorphose you into a cowboy. You need a horse for that. There are places where you can wear the head coverings and places where you cannot. For example, you can wear a Texas Ranger’s (the ball team not the law enforcement) cap to the ballpark, but if you go inside the restaurant, you must take it off. You can roll it up and put it in your back pocket. You can wear your John Deere cap to the John Deere dealer, but if you go inside the show room, you must take it off. If you step inside an elevator, you do not necessarily have to remove your hat, except if a lady is present, then of course you must remove it. A gentlemen never keeps his hat on in the presence of a lady.

Now for you ladies, you can wear your hat anywhere you want. Even into church, well, unless it is a baseball cap. They are considered unisex caps and have the same rules as the men. You can remove it and place it in your purse. Men have the same option of placing their cap in their man bag.

The other type of head covering here in Texas is the cowboy hat. Over the years, the cowboy hat has played a major part of the everyday lifestyle of both the female and the male. In the early days, the good guys wore white hats and the bad guys wore black hats. See my profile pic. Unless you are a country music star, in which case you can wear whatever you want.

Well, that brings us back to the subject at hand, wearing hats in church. Of course, you can’t wear your hat in church. If, as a child, I ever failed to remove my cap in church, well, I cannot explain the consequences in this family style writing. I can say without hesitancy, that it was much easier to remove the cap than having to stand while I ate my Sunday fried chicken, if I was lucky enough to get a piece of chicken. I did some research, thanks to a Biblical scholar in our midst. He suggested I read First Corinthians 11:1-15. I did and it makes perfectly good sense to me.

Cowboy hats should be removed in places of worship, courtrooms and generally in private homes, unless everyone else is wearing one and then it is ok to go along with the crowd Also, if you are in a restaurant that serves anything not coated in BBQ sauce, it might be best to lose the hat. Cowboy hats for ladies fall in the category as “unisex” hats and you must use the hat rack just as the men do.

The etiquette for wearing hats has changed over the years. Hats are worn less now, but at the turn of the 20th century, all adults wore hats whenever they left the house. Ladies also wore stylish hats in public, reserving the bonnets for daily wear around the house, but always with their heads covered. Gentlemen tipped their hats to ladies and removed them upon entering a building. Sadly, those days have passed us by. What we encounter today are the wearing of caps on heads in such a way one cannot tell if they are coming or going. I think maybe their heads are like owls, they swivel.

I think the lesson I learned today is the removal of men’s hats in church is a sign of honor to God. I ‘m not “Keeping this under my hat”. You can “Hang your hat on that”.I certainly hope this clears up the confusion about the wearing of hats in church.

It‘s best I tip my hat to all
It seems the thing to do
A sign of my respect
To those within my view.

Pete Robertson
© 2016

The Bookstore Romance

Today, the “Rancher” and the “Rancherette” celebrate their sixth wedding anniversary. At my age, it is important to celebrate any day, but especially the day when two people became one. An encounter in a Barnes and Noble bookstore and a Starbucks coffee with a double shot of espresso evolved into a romance. They fell in love, thus rewarding themselves with vows of devotion to each other. The “Rancher” wrote the story the day following this occurrence and named it “The Bookstore Romance.” It is a romance story never before published. Based on a true story and told from the perspective of the clerk who shall remain anonymous, it is rather lengthy. I apologize for that. However, I do not apologize for the romance.

The Bookstore Romance

I spend much of my day helping people find a particular book. As I am in the business of service to people, I find myself observing them and their actions. Let me explain. I am a student at the local university working as a clerk in a large bookstore chain. English is my major so working in a bookstore is a plus for me. I prefer to call myself a librarian, but in reality, I am a clerk. I really enjoy my work for it is intellectually stimulating. Honestly, I do know more about books than many librarians do. But I also know quite a bit about people. Read my thoughts about two individuals I met today.

The older gentleman was deep in thought as he searched through the World Atlases and the many maps we have in stock in the World section. He had previously asked me to direct him to the map section. Since we do not have a separate section for maps, I escorted him to the Atlases.

I noticed that he looked up each time somebody walked through the door. It was as if he were waiting for someone. I became busy with other customers and forgot about him.

A Few minutes later, my co-worker said to me, “Melody, Watch that old man.” “What do you mean?” I asked, He replied, “Just watch.”  The old man would look at the clock on the wall, then the door and back to his reading. He did this several times.

Then, a very attractive woman walked through the door. She stopped at the desk and asked my co-worker where she might find the latest novel by Nicholas Sparks. He directed her down the middle aisle to the Romance section on the right. This happened to be on the opposite side of the aisle from the World section where the old man was reading from a map book of the Gulf waters.

When he saw the woman, his eyes covertly glanced at her. He quickly returned to the page he was reading. I could see what my co-worker had meant. This may become interesting.

The old man kept looking from the corner of his eye at the woman, but not really wanting to make eye contact with her. I could tell she fascinated him. She certainly looked charming and smart, smart as in smart looking. This seemed to go on for a period of time. My co-worker and I busied ourselves with our job, but kept watching as best we could.

Now, we saw that the scenario was becoming more curious. The very alluring woman was casting glances of her own toward the older gentleman. Her glances, too, were discreet. But it was obvious, that something was going on.

The gentleman with the multi-toned grey and white hair was carefully taking in all her shapely figure and curves, leaving out not one detail. I know this because I have seen how most men look at women. Being female myself it isn’t hard to understand how a man looks at a woman he admires. He was definitely admiring the beauty of this woman. She had a presence about her that signaled just the right vibes. I’m not sure they would call it vibes; maybe chemistry would be a better word.  I believe he picked up on that rather quickly.

And she was not much different. Her quick looks at him became obvious to us. You could see her eyes giving him the once-over. She was watching his every motion, noting every detail about him; his hair, slightly rumpled, clean-shaven except for a small mustache. It was also turning that same multi-toned grey and white. She was taking in every aspect of the distinguished looking man. He was not necessarily the best-looking man I’ve seen, but she certainly had her eyes on him. Even the starched creases in his trousers caught her eye. His boots, western in style, although old, were sharply polished. But still, her eyes avoided his.  Have you ever watched someone trying to avoid eye contact? It is rather humorous, for the more you try the more it becomes obvious. They were not very adapt at avoiding avoiding eye contact.

Now I cannot tell you what she may have been thinking, I can only observe what I saw. I imagined that she imagined herself running her fingers through his hair. This was better than any movie. This was clearly poetry in motion. Finally, he made a move.

He walked over to her and spoke. She replied in agreement. Almost like teenagers. I can attest to that, not being far removed from teenage years. I am glad we did not have any customers waiting to check out. We would be missing this bookstore romance right before our eyes.

Very quietly, I maneuvered myself into listening range of their voices to eavesdrop. When he spoke, her eyes met his. I could see her green eyes sparkling. He looked old enough to be my grandfather and she perhaps my mother but I was hooked. And this old guy had been smitten. He began stumbling with speech and stuttering a bit. Feeling guilty for encroaching on this moment in their lives, I started to walk away.

I heard him say, “I don’t think I need this ‘map book’”. I wasn’t sure just exactly what that meant, but she laughed aloud. She said, “Let’s go find a jigsaw puzzle”. They headed for the mall entrance, she holding the rose with one hand and his hand with the other.

I am now left wondering, are they entering a fantasy world? If it is, it is their fantasy, and fantasies are real to those who dream. It surely seemed very real to me. I hope it works out for them.  I hope my dreams will happen something like that, too, a budding bookstore romance.

Happy Anniversary to my wonderful “Rancherette”

 

 

 

 

I’m Not Complaining, However…

I approach this posting with delicate sensitivity. It includes what some might believe to be private information. I could be embarrassed by this. You could be embarrassed by this. It is possible it may even be censored. Even in the United States.

Then there are those who might say this is TMI. However, it is a story is that IMT (I must tell).

First, let me say upfront, the “Rancherette” is an excellent housekeeper. And, as such, she always keeps a variety of cleaning agents around our home. She does such an outstanding job In spite of the “Rancher’s” habits because she is always up-to-snuff with the latest cleaning equipment and supplies.  The vacuum cleaner is a top line machine. There are mechanized mops and dust rags and  even a especially designed gadget for cleaning ceiling fans.The “Swiffer WetJet” contraption certainly is an excellent device for hardwood and ceramic tile floors. That same company also makes a dusting tool with top quality materials. And, I dare not forget the polishing resources. Then, there is the famous “scrubbing bubbles”, my favorite. I can only imagine what these little fellows could do if they really put their mind to it.

However, I do have one complaint about an item in the “Rancherette’s” repertoire.

Allow me to explain. I do not know of a single person who does not have a phobia about something. The very definition of phobia in the Greek language means fear. Consequently, everyone I know has a fear of something. In one of my earlier postings, “Pogonotomy-A Male Rite of Passage”, I spoke about the fear of beards. If you do not believe you have a fear of anything, then take a stroll through Google for an indexed list of phobias. You are sure to find one that fits your situation.

So, this is where it could get embarrassing.  In the closet in my bathroom is a plethora of the aforementioned cleaning supplies. While the “bathroom toilet bowl cleaner” is certainly one of the cleaning tools, it is not in the closet.  It is placed strategically (by someone who shall remain nameless) beside the toilet bowl. Accessibility, I suppose. It is there in plain sight. I think it should be in the closet. It stands all alone within my view. I swear I believe it watches me. There are times when one desires a bit of privacy. This is one of those times. Now you must be thinking I am a nut case. What could possibly be so weird about a bottle of “bathroom toilet bowl cleaner?”

Here is my problem. That bottle of “bathroom toilet bowl cleaner?” Well, it greatly resembles a gnome in my opinion.

Toilet Bowl Cleaner   Gardern Gnome

I do not like gnomes. I do not like gnomes that watch me. I do not like the everyday garden gnomes that people place in their gardens. I do not like gnomes that hide in dark places waiting to scare the bejabbers out of me. I guess you could say it was the little gnome that could. I do not like gnomes that ‘travel’ from place to place. It is only a matter of time before they team up to slaughter humankind. I have Gnomophobia.

I believe the only cure for this phobia is to put that ugly gnome-a-cleaner in its place.

05-gnome4

 

Hope you have a gnome-free day.

Fashionable

Yesterday, the “Rancherette” and the “Rancherwriterpoet” went to get their monthly hairdo. The 2nd Tuesday of every month we make this trip. She goes to the hair stylist, while I go to the barber. Please understand, the same person who does the actual work on each of us is one and the same. Angie has been cutting my hair for over five years and the “Rancherette’s” for much longer.

While the “Rancherette” gets her hair fixed, mine only gets cut. It is a scheduled part of our routine. Since I get mine cut first, we go in separate vehicles, because I do not want to wait for two hours when she sits in the chair. They have no TV in the waiting room and even if they did, it would probably be tuned to the “View” or WE network or, even worse, Oprah. Not that I have anything against Oprah, but I would rather watch ESPN and you know I am not about to change any channels in a beauty shop. But, like I said they do not have a TV.

The only magazines on the table are those that are more directed towards the female gender. I think they share magazines with my doctor. People Magazine, Cosmopolitan, Vogue, you know the type.  I do not know why they can’t ever have a Sports Illustrated, or NFL magazine even a Super Hero comic book would be nice. But then again, all the hair stylists/barbers in this establishment are female. Most of their customers are female. I do not have a problem with that.

The problem I do have is that I always get the feeling the women are talking about me. They snicker and talk in low tones. They share pictures with each other on their “smart” phones and not with me. I have no idea what they are sharing. Not that I am curious or anything. Occasionally someone will laugh out loud. I smile as though I know what they are talking about, but …

I never see anyone pointing at me, but I notice that there are eyes sometimes looking in my direction. Talk about being paranoid.  Of course, I could always go to a “real” barbershop. But, then, I do like my haircuts. And you know us old folks, we don’t like change.

Well, this trip to the hair stylist/barber was a very interesting time. We are in the middle of spring break and the teenage grandson is spending time with the “Rancherette” (AKA, Memaw) and me. He knew in advance that we would be going for our monthly “do” so he would be going with us. Later, he would go shopping with his “Memaw” for school clothes.

I was to go first, as I always do, then she would follow with Kyle riding with her. Here is where things began to get interesting. He asked the “Rancherette” (AKA, Memaw) if he could get a ‘mullet’. Her reply?  Not in Memaw’s world. She said she was not going to be responsible for sending him home looking like that. She reminded him that his mother would likely not approve of that, either. So, the “Rancherette” (AKA Memaw), texts the Mom. Her reply?  “not no, but **** NO!” (You don’t know, it could mean heck.)  No, he cannot have a ‘mullet’! End of story”.  Not quite.

th

He asks, “Memaw, can I borrow your phone?” “What for?” “To call my mom.” “Why?” “To ask her if I can get a ‘mullet’.” The “Rancherette” (AKA Memaw) relents, being the kind and gracious Memaw any kid would be proud to have. He calls his Mom. When he hangs up, he says, “Mom said I could get a ‘mullet’.” Around here, we are accustomed to speaking the truth.

I mullet-cartoon-i8 asked the “Rancherette” if I could get a ‘mullet’. Her reply? Not no, but **** NO! (You don’t know, it could mean heck)

I am always interested in the hairdo the “Rancherette” gets, but me not so much.

A Chicken Wrangler’s Poem

 

I got an invitation to write this cowboy rhyme,
‘bout the Chicken Wranglers who ride from time to time.
So I sat down in my cowboy corner and in my cowboy chair
I searched my cowboy brain and wrote this cowboy prayer.

“Lord, bless the Chicken Wranglers, the ones who ride the range
And keep them little chickens safe, away from critters strange.”

I wrote this with my trusty cowboy pen.

A Chicken Wrangler’s Poem

The old chicken wrangler moseyed out her back door
She had chickens to tend to and that’s always a chore,
They scratch and peck and preen and dig holes in the dirt
As the cantankerous old “Roo” just sidesteps while he flirts.

The old chicken wrangler or sometimes, “Rancherette”
Comes to see this “Roo” as something of a threat,
So, she speaks very softly, but she carries a big stick
‘cause this ornery old rooster is often just too quick.

He’s just about one of the best of the breed
Worth every nickel she’d spent on his seed.
He has all the makings of championship stock
Old Cap’n Kanga “Roo” reigns over his flock.

But a wrangler can’t have just one stud in his herd
And this chicken wrangler? She needs a brand new bird.
So from her Silkie flock way up on the hill
Comes a nice Blue cockerel that gives her quite a thrill.

This brand new Silkie rooster comes with Silkie chicks
Bringing with his hatch a brand new bag of tricks.
While pullets scratch and peck and preen and dig ‘round in the dirt
“Big Blue” is just a crowing, still learning how to flirt.

So a Chicken Wrangler’s work is almost never done
and cleaning all that poop ain’t never been much fun
But wrangle on they will ‘cause it’s built inside their genes
and just like kids, they love ‘em, even when they’re teens.

                                                                                 Pete Robertson                                                                                                               March 2015

Evil Twins

I try my best to help the “Rancherette” with chores around our home. I believe it is the right thing to do. At my age, I don’t always get it right, but I still know how to do the right thing. So, I try.

Sometimes, I help with the dusting of furniture. Sometimes, I miss a spot. Sometimes, I help with the vacuuming. Sometimes, I miss a spot. Sometimes, I wash the dishes. Sometimes, I miss a spot. Sometimes, I make the bed; sometimes I miss a spot, uh corner. Every once in a blue moon, I will cook something, however, that is generally left to the best person for that chore. Did I mention the “Rancherette” is also a “Bakerette?” Which is very good, except for my waistline.

I realize that there are chores around the home that usually fall to one gender or the other. But, it does not have to be that way. For example, I usually tend to the yard work. However, the “Rancherette” did not get her name by sticking to housework, only. She draws plans for a chicken coop on a napkin, I build it; she paints it. That is what we call sharing. I consider it a privilege to help around the house.

However, there is one area I tend to stay clear. The Laundry! It so happens, in our little farm house, the laundry room is also in my bathroom. I see the laundry appliances every day, morning, noon and night. They are evil. They stare at me. I undress for my shower, they are watching. I shave, they are watching. I brush my teeth, they are watching. Anything else I do in my own bathroom, well, I’m telling you, they are up to no good. Consequently, I almost never do the laundry.

It seems, every time I do put something in the washing machine, it loses it. Not all of it, only part of it. That very nice pair of socks, the washing machine ate one, only one. What am I supposed to do with only one argyle sock? I can’t replace it; they only sold one pair at Walmart, and then discontinued that style. But that is another story.

That wicked machine will turn my tee shirts wrong side out, and then, since the “Rancherette” does the folding she has to take the time to turn them back the right way. I’m sorry about that, but it is that revolting machine. If she accidently folds the tee shirts that way, then I wind up putting them on wrong side out. How on earth does that machine do that?  I’m telling you that machine is up to no good. It even turned my “whitey-tighties into a pale pink. How stupid do you think that looks at the gym?

Occasionally, it will throw a temper tantrum. Have you ever seen a washing machine throw a temper tantrum? Well, it bounces up and down, crawls all over the place, rolls over and spits up bubbles on the floor. No, I’m not talking about a two year old. I am speaking about the horrible, obnoxious washing machine. It cannot control its bladder, either. Sometimes, it will have an “accident”. Wicked, I’m telling you.

It also has an evil twin brother (or sister, I’m not sure of the genders) Its name is “dryer”. Washer and Dryer, two peas in a pod, as they say down here in North Texas.

I once placed a nice beige sweater in the “dryer”, another fashionable piece of clothing I purchased at Walmart. The “dryer” ruined it. It shrank so badly, that even Luka, the rescue Italian Greyhound could not wear it.

I cannot even begin to tell you how wrinkled the “dryer” left my pants the last time I tried to use it. The creases in the folds were destroyed and the shirts lost all their buttons. Do you know what it is like to put on a shirt with no buttons? I can understand losing my marbles, but buttons? And you know the one sock that the “washer” did not eat? The “dryer” did. As it turns out, this was a blessing in disguise; I was able to purchase a complete new pair.

Since its evil twin washed the peppermint inside my pants, the “dryer”   went ahead and melted it to the fabric. Conspiracy for sure. Now I have a sticky spot in my pocket. I told you they were evil.

Machines like these are supposed to make your life a little more efficient and I suppose they do, to some extent, however, I am going to stick to my dusting, making the bed and washing dishes, even if I do miss a spot.

If I hear the “twins” calling my name, I’m running outside to mow the grass, or burn leaves or shovel snow, or build something. I think that may be the right thing to do. Thank you, “Rancherette” for your expertise and willingness to fight off those evil twins in my bathroom. They frighten me.

Catching up with Technology

Finally, the day arrived. The “Rancherette” and the “Rancherwriterpoet” both made an important trip to Dr. G., the dermatologist. There was much trepidation in the eyes of one of the participants. That participant shall remain nameless for fear of retribution if her name is revealed.

In researching for this article, I find that those who eventually will become more, shall we say advanced in age, usually are the ones who will make this journey to their own personal Doctor G., the dermatologist. That age falls somewhere between puberty and senility, and not to be confused with virility.

So off we went. We live in a rural area, so it is about an hour’s drive to his location. We usually make a day of it and visit the local shops and restaurants that are not available to us where we live.

Since the “Rancherette” has been having difficulty with her cell phone not charging properly, she decided to check in at the phone store. On a side note, remember when they were actually called mobile phones and rested in a bag and had a cord? For that matter, remember when there were no portable phones at all? And what ever happened to the “tele” part of the word? Television is now TV, telegraph is now IM, (I looked that up, Instant Messaging.) and telemarketer, well, that is still used, however at one time they were called aluminum salesmen. No offense to any retired aluminum salesmen. But you get my drift.

Anyway, as we entered the “phone” store, there were several sales associates standing at the door. Very courteously, they opened the doors for us. Our time was limited because of our appointment with Dr. G., the dermatologist, so when we entered I remarked to the “Rancherette”, choose a sales person who looks “geeky”.

“Why?” she asked.  “They will know much more about what you want” I replied. I mean no disrespect for “geeks” are very intelligent when it comes to electronics, computers and all that nerdy stuff.

A very nice young man, probably in his early twenties, very early twenties, volunteered to help us. The “Rancherette” immediately began her requests. She asked questions that I did not know and he gave answers that I did not know. It was very clear they were speaking in a language of which I was unfamiliar. I learned later it is called “geek” language.

At this point, let me inform you that I have an old “flip” TELEphone. It rings with an actual TELEphone ring. It does not have a QWERTY keyboard, in fact, no keyboard at all. I have a computer for that. I am not profoundly literate about that either. I learned to type on a Royall typewriter, before electricity. My flip TELEphone does not IM or TEXT or take pictures. I have a Kodak
camera for taking pictures. It does not play music. I have a transistor radio for that. It does not have the capability of playing videos. I finally broke down and bought a used VCR for that. That set me back 20 bucks. I understand there is now a device that plays something called DVD’s.  I’ll discuss those inventions at a later date.

The “Rancherette” and the “Geek”, (sounds like a movie or country music song) must have hit it off. I remember she called him a geek and he took it as a compliment.

Once she made her choice, he whipped out his trusty tablet, (I do not mean the Big Chief tablets I used when I was much younger)

Big Chief

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and begun touching symbols and icons and lo and behold, her TELEphone information was staring us in the face on his tablet. After much discussion, they made the deal, and he began moving her data from her old TELEphone to her new TELEphone. Most people use only the …phone portion of the word. AND he saved her three bucks in the process. I knew this kid was good. I liked him.

So, I have a new respect for “geeks’. They have such knowledge. For example, they can form a series of binary digits on a physical storage medium in order to manipulate the data in any central processing unit even though the executable programs are stored in separate location, especially in the clouds.                                         And I have no idea what I just said.

We finally left the store to make our way to Dr. G’s office, but stopped for lunch at a local “Cajun” restaurant. Delightful and spicy, just what we needed. The “Rancherette” was so excited about her new TELEphone, she was beside herself. Could not put it down. One would have thought she had just got a new Barbie doll for Christmas. I was never that excited on Christmas morning.

After arriving at  Dr. G’s office, and being seated in his special recliner, the participant who previously was distressed had an epiphany.  Dr. G. informed that person that there was absolutely nothing to worry about, for whatever was concerning that person, was of a benign nature. It is related to heredity and basically comes from the aging process. You know, somewhere between puberty and senility, not to be confused with virility.

Phone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All in all, it was a good day. It also helps if one gets a new …phone.

Post Navigation

Fun E Farm

One Family's Adventures in the Search for Sustainability

Shootin' the Breeze

and random targets

Morning Story and Dilbert

Inspiring, Encouraging, Healthy / Why waste the best stories of the World, pour a cup of your favorite beverage and let your worries drift away…

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dodinsky

In The Garden Of Thoughts

Carlson Property Tax

A straight-forward blog about property taxes in North Texas, Dallas Ft. Worth and Surrounding Counties

Chris Martin Writes

Sowing seeds for the Kingdom

chester maynes

Poetry and Poems

The WordPress.com Blog

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

%d bloggers like this: