Splash... Goooooaaaaallll!

Note: Please don't forget about my Reader's Poll up there in the upper right corner of this web page. For more information about the poll, the 'why' of it, so to speak, please read  my post explaining the whole thing by clicking  HERE.  

...and on with the blog!

You've all been to kids' soccer games, right? And if not, you've seen them on television or in the movies. They've become such a staple of all our lives here in America that we even have the phrase 'soccer mom'. So we all know what a children's soccer game looks like: happy,smiling kids, all of them athletically inclined (with the possible exception of one heavy kid, who always plays goalie, right?) running about on an emerald-green, sun-drenched field, while excited parents, other family members and friends all either line the fields or fill the stands, cheering happily, applauding excitedly, everyone involved just having the time of their lives.

Right?

That's in TV and movies. Today was Handsome's first game of the new season, his first time out with his new team, and my first time meeting his new coaches. I got him ready, in the car and on the way by 1:30 this afternoon -- the game was scheduled to start at 2:15.

Unfortunately, God is on the team's mailing list, so he knew the game was scheduled for 2:15.  That's why he scheduled the rain to start at 1:45.

Ha! That Celestial Practical Joker! He cracks me up every time! I was just slapping my thigh and wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes when the game began as scheduled. Or was that rainwater in my eyes? it was so hard to tell...

 

So there we were. Cold, wet kids, some of them athletically inclined (the kids playing goal were just as athletically inclined as anyone else out there - they just looked a little chubby since they were all layered up with extra sweatshirts and jackets trying to keep warm out there) slogging about on a rain-slick, just-plain-drenched field, while umbrella'd parents and rain-coated family members and friends all lined the field, cheering somewhat listlessly, applauding to keep their hands warm, everyone involved constantly checking their watches and wondering when they were going to call this thing off.

This was not a time that Life was imitating Art. Art had apparently taken the weekend off, and Life was throwing a tantrum about it, and it was taking us along for the ride.

Terrific.

On the plus side, Handsome had a great game, scoring two if his team's five goals (yes, they won) and making some serious defensive plays as well. He was soaked the whole time, and his wet shoelaces would not stay tied. He might have had an even better game if he hadn't spent nearly one-third of his time in the game crouching down to retie his shoes! I think I'll tie his shoes with some really tight knots and then hose him down with cold water right before next week's game, see if I can get a streak going.

Of course... I'm not going to tell him about the hose idea.  Do me a favor, would you? Keep it under your hat...

Talk to you later!

With a Stick

Last week it was 80 degrees and sunny here in Massachusetts. Too hot for me personally, but out on my route I had everybody and their brother meeting me at the door to take in the mail. They all had the same thing to say:

“Wow, must be great to have your job today!.”

No, wait, some of them had this to say:

“Oh, I wish I had your job!”

Or this one:

“Must be terrific to work outside!”

Then there’s the ever-popular “Warm enough for you?” Yeah…that one’s a pip.

I even had one gentleman, he’s probably a terrific guy, who let loose with a “Can’t beat your job with a stick!”

Well, that was last week. When it was 80 degrees and sunny.

Yesterday was only in the high 30’s, maybe 40 degrees. That, of course, was before you factored in the wind, which was gusting up to almost 40 mph. That kind of a gust, as anyone who works outside during a New England winter can tell you, gives you a wind chill factor of “Holy @#$%-ing $#!%!!”

Now what I want to know is, where were all my fair-weather friends yesterday? I didn’t see hide nor hair of any of them, and believe you me, I was looking!

I especially didn’t see that gentleman who’s probably a terrific guy hiding behind the blinds in his living room as I rang his bell repeatedly while screaming “With a stick, huh pal? I got your stick right here! Right here!”

I left before the police arrived.

Barely.

I think I may try medication.

That’s what the voices are telling me to do, anyway. Well, some of them. It’s a bit of a debate.

Talk to you later!

Accu-WHAT?

The last thing I do every morning before I leave for work is to check the weather. I work outside, and I’m a little temperature sensitive, so it’s become kind of a habit. A sensible one. It’s been pretty warm of later, so I’ve already made the springtime shift to shorts for work. It’s easier to control my overheating issue if I err on the side of caution; I can always put on long pants later if I’m that cold.

So, according to this morning’s AccuWeather Forecast the town I work in was supposed to be mostly sunny today, with a high of 44-46 degrees. Not shorts weather for everyone, but I do tend to overheat, and if you’re exerting yourself in the sunshine, especially while wearing a sweatshirt, you can generate plenty of heat. I decided to stick with the shorts.

Well, I set up my route and got it out there on the road. The sky was gray and overcast, but I had faith that the ‘mostly sunny’ was just around the corner. Every once in a while I would run into a customer. They would usually look down at my bare legs and ask “What, you think it’s Summer?”

I had a few answers I ran through while I gave them all big smiles, like “This’ll break,” and “Spring has sprung,” and “I’m just optimistic!” The longer the day wore on, though, the less optimistic I felt.

The morning passed. No sun.

I had lunch. No sun.

The afternoon wore on. Nope, no sun.

Eventually I had just four streets left on my route, just about an hour’s work. Well, I thought, I hope the sunny part comes soon, ‘cuz I’m running out of day here!

That’s when it started to rain.

I had more thoughts then, but I can’t reproduce them here, as my Nana occasionally reads my blog.

Hi Nana!

So I finished my route in a drizzle, optimism a thing of the past, waiting for the downpour to strike. It didn’t, but I discovered a new mathematical formula today. It goes like this:

44 degrees + cold drizzle + shorts - sunshine = “those ain’t kneecaps, they’re goosebumps”

Yeah... those ain't kneecaps, and my nipples were so hard all day I ruined the front of a brand new shirt!

'Cuz that's how I roll!

Talk to you later!

Slip Sliding Away

Yesterday and last night we (around these parts, that is) had a little storm. I was snowing, raining, hailing, just every old thing. In New England, lots of times storms cause a low-level panic (See Tornadoes vs. Nor'easters for more on that), and apparently the Post Office is not immune. We had what is called a Safety Talk yesterday morning, where Management tells us things like 'Ice is slippery!' and 'Falling down stairs hurts!'.

You know. Highfalutin' intelligence of a safety-oriented nature. And stuff.

So yesterday we got the word:

"Use your own discretion. If there's too much snow, and the truck might get stuck, bring the mail back. We can always send it out the next day. If conditions look too icy, on a sidewalk, walkway to a house, and especially stairs, don't even go up there. Don't take the chance of getting hurt. We'd rather have the mail be delayed than have you guys get hurt."

Warms your heart, doesn't it? I know it warmed mine. As a matter-of-fact, it more than warmed it, it was actually hot! Burning! crap, my heart is burning! What the hell did they... oh, wait a minute! Breakfast burrito. My bad. Let me get some Tums. Be right back...

...Okay! Whew! That's better. Okay, where was I? What? Oh, right, right, the 'Safety Talk' about not getting hurt on the ice.

Well, I went in this morning, and as I turned up the driveway to go to the employee lot (which, coincidentally, holds all the mail trucks for the office as well) I saw the custodial staff for the office out in front of the building wielding shovels and sand buckets, making sure the paths to the front door ware clear. The stairs had been handled in quite the professional manner, shoveled, scraped, and from the looks of it blow-dried.

Terrific! I thought. They have a handle on the whole ice and snow thing! My workplace, working hard to keep me safe and whole!





Then I got to the back of the building, where the employees park. It hadn't been handled quite as well as the front of the building.



 Here's a picture of all of us going from our cars to the building to clock in:












And here we are , heading out to check our vehicles after getting on the clock -->

<-- Here are three of my co-workers going out a couple of hours later to load their mail into their trucks.

These are two more of my co-workers. I can't explain what the hell they're doing. I think I left right before someone-->
 called the police









So. As far as I can tell, the whole 'use your own discretion, we don't want you to get hurt' thing only applies while I'm out and about in town. Right there in my own office, though, cracked skulls seem to be encouraged!


Talk to you later!

Breaking News

SEVERE WEATHER ALERT (Yes, this is the actual weather advisory for my area today)

...WIND ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 8 PM EST THIS EVENING...

* LOCATIONS...NORTHEASTERN CONNECTICUT...CENTRAL AND EASTERN

MASSACHUSETTS INCLUDING NORTHERN PORTIONS OF THE SOUTHEASTERN

COASTAL PLAIN...AND NORTHERN AND CENTRAL RHODE ISLAND.

* HAZARDS...STRONG AND GUSTY WINDS.

* WINDS...WEST 15 TO 25 MPH WITH GUSTS UP TO 50 MPH.

* TIMING...WEST WINDS WILL BE STRONGEST DURING THE AFTERNOON

HOURS TODAY. WINDS WILL DIMINISH GRADUALLY INTO THE EVENING

HOURS.

* IMPACTS...STRONG AND GUSTY WINDS WILL EASILY BLOW ABOUT

LIGHTER ITEMS SUCH AS TRASH CANS. THESE STRONG WINDS CAN ALSO

KNOCK DOWN SMALL TREE LIMBS AND BRANCHES. WINDS THIS STRONG

CAN ALSO MAKE DRIVING DIFFICULT...ESPECIALLY FOR HIGH PROFILE

VEHICLES. USE EXTRA CAUTION.

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS...

A WIND ADVISORY IS ISSUED WHEN SUSTAINED WINDS ARE FORECAST TO BE

31 TO 39 MPH OR GUSTS WILL RANGE BETWEEN 46 AND 57 MPH. WINDS

THIS STRONG ARE CAPABLE OF DOWNING SMALL TREE LIMBS AND

BRANCHES...POSSIBLY CAUSING ISOLATED POWER OUTAGES. DRIVING CAN

ALSO BE DIFFICULT...ESPECIALLY FOR HIGH PROFILE VEHICLES.


...Transmission Begins...

Studio Announcer: "And now, we here at Action Central News bring you on the scene coverage from our part-time reporter in the field, Rob Dumbasapost. Rob? Can you hear me alright from where I sit, here in this wonderfully heated and perfectly comfortable studio? Can you tell us what's going on out there?"

Rob: "Yeah, I can hear you fine, you son of a... I mean, yes, I hear you. I'm just hoping you can hear me above the howl of the wind out here! As you can see, I'm leaning into the wind at quite an extreme angle and it's holding me upright quite easily, that's how strong the wind is! Looks like Marcel Marceau wasted all that schooling and practice, all he had to do was come out into a New England gale, John!"

Studio Announcer: "Yes, I see. Well, can you tell us anything else about the weather, Rob? Something interesting, perhaps?"

Rob: "Interesting? I'll give you interesting, you snooty... I mean, uh, well, if you look behind me here, you can see the tops of the trees really whiping down toward the ground in the force of the winds... Whoa! Did you see that? That one there was just uprooted! Did we get that on camera? (the camera view nods up and down) Yes? Excellent!"


Studio Announcer: "Yeah... that's great, Rob. Now I know you're just a part-time reporter, and you've really only been trained as a letter-carrier, but do you think you could find something interesting for the people at home to see?"


Rob: "Sure, I've got something interesting for you! Why don't you meet me down in the parkin-"


Studio Announcer: "Uh, Rob, is that someone there behind you? Could you do an interview?"


Rob: "Yes! Yes it is! Ladies and gentlemen, we have here a man out here, braving the elements and the power  of the wind to... to... Well, sir, why don't you tell us what brought you out in this terrific wind this afternoon?"


Old Man: "I just came out here to tell you about a guy I saw a little while ago. He was out here in the wind too, but he wasn't like us guys. This guy was a real dumbass."


Rob: "I beg your pardon?"


Old Man "A dumbass. This guy was out here in all this wind, see, and he was holding a bunch of paper on his arm. You know, magazines and big envelopes and stuff, and he had 'em all stacked up on his arm! In this wind! And it wasn't like he could hold 'em with that hand or anything, 'cuz he had a big stack of other paper in that hand too! Letters, and stuff like that, and the wind was whipping it all around, you know, trying to snatch it away from him, and he was all fighting with everything, trying not to drop anything, and I have to say that he looked like a real dumbass!"


Rob: "Okay, I think we're done here-"


Studio Announcer: "Rob? Could you ask him just who he was describing to you? That description just sounded really familiar."


Rob: "Seriously? ...Fine. Fine.  Sir? Can you tell me who you are going to such lengths to describe?"


Old Man: "Why, my mailman, of course!"


Rob: "Um, sir? You know that I'm only a part-time reporter, right? And that in my 'day job' I'm a mailman, sir?"


Old Man: "Sure, I know that."


Rob:  "And, in fact, I'm, uh, I'm your mailman, sir?"


Old Man: "Yup."


Rob: "So what you're saying is... I mean... well, basically, you're standing there and, uh, calling me-"


Old Man: "A dumbass. Yup."


Rob: "Well, I guess that's back to you, John.  ...John? Hello? Uh, I'm turning it back over to you at the station, John. ...(tapping microphone) Is thing thing on?"


Studio Announcer: "I don't think so, Rob."


Rob: "What?"


Studio Announcer: "I'm not taking the show back to the station. This is just too good to miss. Please, go on with the interview."


Rob: "What?"


Old Man: "You dumbass."


Rob: "Okay, that's it! (looking past the camera at the cameraman, making a slashing motion across his throat with one hand) Cut it! Cut the damn feed! (lunging toward the camera) Cut it I said!"


Old Man: "Dumbass!"


(The camera view tips sideways, bounces, and the feed becomes nothing but static and white noise)


...Transmission Ends... We now return you to the Questions Series already in progress...


Talk to you later!

Yes. I Have Pants.

It's December 16^th. 

9 days 'til Christmas. 

I work outside all day, every day …

...and I'm still wearing shorts.

I'm not even uncomfortable most of the time. I have my shorts, and I have my hooded sweatshirt, and I'm good.

People keep asking me if we have a bet in the Post Office, trying to see which letter carrier in my town can last the longest without putting on long pants. But it's nothing like that. There is no bet, and I personally don't care who wears shorts longer into the winter. 

I'm just still not sweating. That means I can overheat very easily, so I'm looking to manipulate my clothes to help me thermoregulate, and it's much easier to just take down my hood, or even shuck my sweatshirt altogether, than to try to change my pants out here on the road. (If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, please click this link to go to my blog post titled "No Sweat, No Problem...Not Really!" It will explain everything.)

There are still days out here, like today for example, where it is warm enough (50 degrees today!) that I have to take down my hood because I'm starting to overheat. People don't understand that as long as I'm moving, as long as I'm generating internal heat, I'm fine out here!

Until, of course, the sun goes down. It gets a little hard on my shirts when the sun goes down. I keep having to buy new ones. 

You see, when the sun goes down, the temperature drops quite rapidly. Once that happens, and a brisk evening wind whips across my bare legs, my nipples go hard enough to cut glass.

They keep poking holes in my shirts.

I hate it when that happens.

Talk to you later!

Booo! ...Huzzah?

This afternoon I was on my way to pick up Handsome at school, as I do every school-day I have off.
I was also running late. As I do every school-day I have off.

I'm fairly certain I won't even die on time.

So there I was, tearing through town, driving, as I like to call it, 'like I was born in Massachusetts'. In other words, as if driving like a complete and total %^$#@ is in my blood.

Which it is.

I came out of my neighborhood and saw a traffic jam right there at the lights.
Booo!

I zipped across three lanes of traffic and took a left. I suspect my left-hand wheels were touching the ground the whole time, but I can't be sure.
Huzzah!

I whipped down that street and came out to a T-junction. I needed to go left, but the traffic building up in that lane was already blocking me in.
Booo!

Someone stopped a little early, giving me the opportunity to turn right, then left, cutting behind the last guy in the traffic line and take up the lane next to him. That worked out because I wanted to take a right.
Huzzah!

As I barreled along, using side streets to get around back-ups and blockages, aware that I might be a minute late, it started raining. Hard enough that I didn't want Handsome to have to be standing around in it while he waited for stupid old me!
Booo!

I slowed down as I entered the school zone, turned the corner to the parking lot behind Handsome's school just as the clock hit 2:30. The kids were exiting the building and I was right there to keep Handsome from getting too wet from the driving rain.
Huzzah! Hip-hip-huzzah!

As I pulled up, Handsome came scuffing across the grass. He was kicking the wet grass with his soaked sneakers, and his jacket, rather than being on, was tied to his backpack by one sleeve and dragging on the ground behind him as he seemed to do everything in his power to get as wet as possible.




Son of a %$#@! Why do I bother!?

Talk to you later!

Mrs. Manners

So I delivered a section of someone else's route today. It rained, in case you were unaware of it, one Hell of a lot in Massachusetts this morning. Something like 5 inches of rain fell in about in about 2 hours. The mail on the big trucks was delayed due to washed out roads and flooding, and some of our people couldn't make it in to work this morning, so pretty much everyone that showed up was helping out. I took a section on my friend J.D.'s route.

It was raining on and off all day, so nothing out there was dry. Nothing. So I was pretty much standing in a puddle when I was on the narrow back porch attached to an apartment building, puzzling out the names on the boxes and figuring out who was where. I was still standing in that puddle when the door to my left opened and a woman came out.

Big bleach blonde hair. Makeup applied with something like a trowel, but there was the possibility that what was on her face actually was Spackle. Definitely older than me but dressed like a High-Schooler, she stepped through the door in knee-high rubber boots, a short skirt with spandex pants under it (a look I will never understand) and a short, useless little rain jacket. As the door closed behind her she took one last long drag on her cigarette, one massively mascaraed eye squinting shut as some last squibs of smoke wreathed her face. She gave it a Danny Zuko flick, sending it flying out into the yard. It was a move well worthy of the movie “Grease”, and I have to admit I had chills. They were multiplying, but it didn't have the same feel as the song.

The aging Pink Lady wannabe looked at me, since I was blocking her path along the narrow porch, and I, being a gentleman, stepped back and motioned her through. Without hesitation, or even acknowledging my manners, she started forward. Three things happened in rapid succession.

First, my backside came in contact with the wet wrought iron railing behind me, the ice-cold water there instantly soaking through my summer weight shorts and giving me a double-cheek-chill, causing me to gasp and almost start forward.

Almost simultaneously, Greased Lightning's rubber-shod foot landed squarely in the puddle I had just backed out of, splashing the aforementioned icy water up my legs to the thighs. This caused my gasp to deepen, becoming the kind of inhale your doctor is always asking for when they pick up the stethoscope (also ice cold, but that's another story): a good, deep breath.

Right on the heels of all this, just as my inhale was starting in earnest, Splashy the Fashion Don't said “Thanks,” in a rough, rumbling smoker's voice, expelling that long last drag directly into my face. Honestly, except for the fact that she never actually made contact with me it was like CPR in Hell.

The used smoke slammed into my lungs like a sledgehammer on fire, causing me to choke and cough as I bounced my wet and freezing tail off the railing, stumbling and almost falling in the puddle I was already wearing. By the time I had gotten my diaphragm under control and the coughing was down to a minimum, I looked in the direction she had gone, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“You're welcome,” I croaked, in the voice of a junior high kid who just tried his first cigarette and has been reduced to being happy he didn't throw up in front of the cool kids.

What a woman!

Talk to you later!

Happy Birthday Handsome! We Give You... Irene!

I'll try to make this quick, in case the power goes out again. I stayed at Handsome's house last night so I could get it ready for the hurricane. I woke up and watched the second half of "Batman" (The original, with Michael Keaton as Batman. He's good, but there's no keeping Jack Nicholson from stealing the show as the Joker) and started getting the garage ready. I took a break and went to play a game with Handsome, who just got three new games for the Wii for his birthday. I came downstairs to finish the garage while Wife went to the store, and that's when the power went out.
Damn.
I was kind of counting on the power lasting for longer than that; the storm didn't seem to really have gotten going. Although I did watch a tree go down across the street from me. No property damage other than the tree, so it was pretty cool. Anyway, Handsome was counting on the power lasting as well. When his Wii went dead on him I could hear him wailing all the way down in the garage!
We told him that it might be a while before the power came back on, and one way to make the time fly by would be to help his mother and me in the basement!
No dice.
"No thanks. It's my birthday."
He was so casual about not helping us, he rounded it out by rolling away on his scooter. 'No thanks,' roooollllllll ...
We moved on to getting the basement ready for water. You see, the house is set into a hill, and what happens when we get too much rain or snow-melt is water comes in through the back wall of the basement and then follows the paths that 60 years of feet have worn into the concrete floor. It comes through the back room into the family room, then takes a left and flows through the laundry/mechanical room and into the garage, and from there down the slope of the driveway to the street. It's like a little river all our own, and I've been tempted to throw a line in there once or twice during past floods.
Can't do any worse than the last two times I went for stripers.
So all we really have to do is get the stuff up off the floor and let it go. We were in the process of that when we had a visit from a little practical joker I've mentioned before. I like to call him God.
We were in the basement moving stuff, and we could hear the wheels of Handsome's scooter rolling back and forth across the kitchen. I'll admit, I was getting a little steamed that he wasn't helping, but I was trying not to yell at him about it; it is his birthday after all. Suddenly, the power came on. Lights, televisions, etc. From upstairs we heard a "Yay! Now I can play my game!" Footsteps pounded across the kitchen and into Handsome'd bedroom, and seconds later we heard the start-up melody of his Wii come blasting from his television.
The lights went out.
"Awww! Dangit!"
There were slow, angry footsteps back across the kitchen to where the scooter, I just knew, lay forgotten on the floor.
The lights came on.
"Yay!"
Footsteps pounded.
The lights went out.
"Dangit!"
The lights flickered on and off. They came on again for about 3 seconds; long enough for Handsome to take a cautious breath. They went out again before he could 'yay'. Then they flickered again.
I just had to laugh. All I could picture was God, white robed, white bearded, blazing with a blinding light, and laughing like Pete Puma. One Hand on a huge Celestial Light Switch, flipping It up to watch Handsome run, and then down again to watch him stomp.
"Look! Lookit him scoot! Wait, Peter, Gabriel, watch this, you gotta see this! Ready... and.... off! Ha! Lookit him stomp! Wait, wait I'll get him again. Got him! Honest to Me, I slay Myself! Next time help your dad, Kiddo! Watch his face when I flicker it like this... oohoooo, I love this kid!"

So, thank you God. Thank you for giving my son a 9th birthday I'll never forget!

Talk to you later!

(if the power holds out, that it...)

Just A Little Rainy Day Advice

To whom it may concern:
If you are anxiously waiting for the arrival of the mail (some might say with bated breath), please, take note of the weather.
If you attempt to look out the window of your lovely, climate controlled, completely weather-proof dwelling, and the world outside appears to be quite wavery and indistinct, there are three things it could be.

1. You are having some sort of acid flashback. The odds of this happening to you are for you to decide. I have no idea what kind of life you've lived, I'm not here to judge, to each his/her own.
   
2. You have forgotten to put on your glasses. Again, whether you have done this or not is for you alone to decide. Do you even wear glasses? Maybe you would be able to remember things like that if you hadn't done so much acid...
   
3. It's raining out. 

There, that's it, that third one there. That's what I'm here to talk about. If you think it may be raining there are things you can do to find out. Verification, as it were. You can check the weather in the newspaper, on the news or weather channel, or you can check it online. You can listen for the drumming sound of rain in the roof or even on the very window you are trying to see through. Last but not least, if you are feeling really daring, you can open the door and step outside. If you come back inside in need of a towel, it's raining.

This may seem like a bit of an oversimplification to some of you, but trust me folks, there are some people out there in need of this information.

Now, is it raining a little, or a lot?

To help you with the difference between "little" and "lot", I refer you to Sesame Street, episodes 24 and 37. I don't think I could do a better job of explaining it than Big Bird, Grover, Bert and Ernie, and that Grouch fellow. Experts one and all!

If you are having difficulty seeing out your window, then I'll go out on a limb here and say it's raining a lot. If it's really raining, there are certain terms and phrases that people use. 'Raining cats and dogs' is an oldie but goodie, though it does conjure up some seriously disturbing images. My grandfather would say it was 'raining like the dickens', although I have no idea what a 'dickens' is, or what it has to do with meteorology. I would be most likely to steal a phrase from my own father and say it was 'raining like a bastard', though again, I have no real idea what someone's legitimacy has to do with the weather. I just like the sound of that one.

Now, once you determine that it is indeed 'raining like a bastard', you may continue to keep an eye out for the mailman. Remember the mailman? At the start of all this was the premise that someone was waiting anxiously for the mail? Remember?

When the mailman comes along, take a good look at him. Or her. Even if you have to open the door to do it. Why not, you're going to open the door to snatch the mail from their hand anyway, right? So look at them. Are they soaked to the skin? Do they have a downtrodden, exhausted look on their face? No spring in their step? Is their hat all shapeless and pulled to the side a bit because the brim has absorbed so much water? Can you hear their shoes squish with water every time they take a step?

Yes?

Okay, then my advice to you is not to take the mail from their hand, shake it a little, and say "Aw, it's a little wet," in a disappointed voice. And whatever you do, do not ask "isn't there any way you could get this to me dry?" If you do either one of these things (and if you have done them you know who you are) then what you probably got for a response was a blank stare lasting anywhere from 2-10 seconds before your carrier turned and walked away without answering.

Now, I'm advising you not to do these things because, when this situation arises, that 2-10 second stare is when we are deciding whether to kill you or not. The longer the stare the more we are weighing whether or not prison would be worth it.

Think about it.

Talk to you later!

Just Another Rainy Day

I was in my room at my parent's house today, and Handsome had stayed over for a visit. We were the only ones in the house at the time, and we were looking for stuff to do since it was raining all day. Going fishing was out. Playing soccer was out. I even called the local roller rink, but they are closed on Sundays during the summer. It actually says right in their website "If it's raining call us! We are usually open 12:30pm - 3pm".


I called. It's bull-byproduct.


So I was in my room wondering what to do with the boy, when he called up the stairs.
"Dad! Can I have a towel?"
Now, I know this boy, and I know he's hard pressed not to make a mess no matter where he is. You can track him through the house by following the fingerprints on the walls. You can tell he's home because whatever he came in the house with, be it a library book, a wet jacket, or if he has nothing else to drop, his shoes, will be found in the middle of whatever room where it will be in someone's way the most. This is the boy who once took a shower, was dressed but still wet from the shower, went to meet me in my car as we were on the way out somewhere, was out of my sight for maybe 8-10 seconds, and when I got to the car he was inside it and covered in mud.
Covered in mud.
When I asked him what the heck happened, how did he get that way, he looked down at himself in surprise.
Surprise.
I'll say that one again, just because I was there and I still don't believe it.
He looked down at himself in surprise, and told me he had no idea what happened.


I'm sorry... I need a moment here... this still freaks me out... I'm baffled... hang on ... 


Okay, I'm back. So, with all this and more in mind, when my son asks me for a towel I'm wondering what the hell happened that is just too big for the paper towels he has down there. Spilled milk that looks more like a violent murder scene, with it splashed on the walls and ceiling, a rookie police officer running away to throw up so he doesn't contaminate the scene? Some sort of foodstuffs pulling a Mount St. Helens and covering the whole first floor of the house in a cloud of nasty particles? Even a spontaneous indoor rain of the afore-mentioned bull-byproduct, falling with even less explanation that a rain of frogs, covering the floor with an inch or more of bovine feces?
My heart in my throat, I called back. "What do you need it for?"
He strolled into the room, looking just as he had all morning, no telltale stains or splashes on his clothes. He walked up to me, arms outstretched, asking for a hug.
Thinking he was buttering me up for whatever horror he had to tell me about, I hugged him.
He was soaked. Right though to the skin. I pulled him away from me and looked him over.
"How did you get so wet?"
"I went outside," he said matter-of-factly. 
"To do what?"
"I went out to play in the stream."
My eyebrows shot up. 
"What stream? There's no stream..."
He brought me over to the window looking out to the street in front of the house and pointed.
"That stream."
The gutter. It was raining so hard the gutter was flooded, and a small river of water was flowing past the front of the house, pushing with it all sorts of street trash. Wrappers, dirt and sand, yard waste, any fluids that cars had dropped in the street lately, all sorts of stuff. That was what he had played in. That was what he was covered in. 
That was what he had just wiped all over me with that hug.
I sighed and handed him a towel.
"Stay off the furniture until you dry off. Unless of course, you want to take a shower, change clothes?"
"Nope. I'm good."
He went back downstairs and I returned to my search for something to occupy us.


What, did you think there was going to be some big, funny blow-up for the finish? Naw. I was slightly disgusted, but he did go back out in the rain, so he did effectively rinse off. Besides, it kind of made me smile.


Hell. I used to be a boy.


Talk to you later!

Who Was That Boy?

Last night Handsome had a pick-up soccer game to go to, so I took him to the right park when I got out of work. It was looking like it might rain a bit, but it had looked like that off and on all day and we hadn't gotten anything worse than a 5 minute sprinkle out of it. The kids were all running about and the parents were all looking at the sky. Most of them seemed prepared for rain, having brought umbrellas, but though the sky was gray it remained dry.
The coach showed up.
Just as he was starting to organize the kids and get a game started, the rain started as well. It was just a gentle sprinkle, and it wasn't slowing the kids down any, so the parents all put up their umbrellas and waited. They started talking to each other in hopeful tones about it passing, or stopping soon; as if by convincing each other that the rain would stop they could actually make it so.
Nope.
It began to rain for real. The coach decided to put the game on hold for 15 minutes to see if it would clear up a bit, and everyone headed out to the parking lot to sit in their cars and wait it out. Everyone but Handsome. He had his soccer ball, and he was outside, and he said a little rain wasn't going to stop him.
"I like the rain! This is fun! Can we practice head-balls?"
This from a kid that we have to fight with to get him in the shower. Who sometimes is so lazy that when he can't find the remote for the television he just watches what is on rather than taking the two steps required to change the channel manually. (He has been stuck on the QVC channel before, and now he can give me the pitch, practically verbatim, for: The Buxton Organizer, Mighty Putty, Wonder Hanger, Oxy-Clean, the Awesome Auger, the Quick Chop, and a host of other things you can find in the 'as seen on TV' section of your local store.)
We practiced our head-balls and throw-ins in the rain while the other people (the sane people, if you will) waited in their cars and watched the sky for signs that it was letting up.
Instead, it rained harder.
And harder.
"Don't you want to get in out of the rain?"
"No, Dad. Can we just stay out here a while?"
Who was this kid? The ball couldn't roll far, it kept getting stuck in puddles, but he didn't want to stop.
Other parents were calling it quits and driving their kids out of there, but he didn't want to stop.
The coach drove up and said he was calling it and going home.
"Maybe we'll have better luck next week," he said with a wave as he drove off. Handsome walked up, holding the ball and soaked to the skin.
"Who was that?"
"That," I answered, "was the coach. I think it's time we went in and got dry, Handsome."
"Do we have to?"
"Yup."
He sighed and got in the jeep. I paused for long enough to take off my soaked shirt, then I got in as well. Even with the shirt off I still soaked my seat. Handsome was sluicing water off his head and face with his hands, and smiled as he pointed out the puddles he was making in my car, thrilled to be so wet.
I pointed a finger at him.
"Remember; when we get home you go right in the shower."
His face fell.
"Aww.... do I have to, Dad?"
"There you are! Where have you been?"
He looked at me quizzically, still wiping at his face.
"I was wondering where you were," I explained. "I was just playing soccer with this other kid, he looked a lot like you, but he was way active, and he didn't seem to mind being wet at all!"
He made a face at me. "Ha-ha. Funny, Dad."
"That's okay, Handsome," I said, reaching out to ruffle his hair and accidentally spraying water on the inside of the windshield. "That kid was wearing me out. I'm glad to have you back!"


Talk to you later!

Hot, Hot, Hot!

I'm sitting in the library right now, on my lunch. It's just after 5pm, (yes, I take lunch way late) and the heat of the day has passed. The little weather doohickey I have in the sidebar, however,  says it's still 94 degrees out.
94 degrees. And that's on the way down. Luckily, my anhidrosis seems to be almost gone. I'm kind of counting on it coming back, but for now I'm sweating enough to survive this heat, and it happened just in time!

So, for all those people who wondered today, and all those people who actually asked:

Yes! It's hot enough for me!

Yes! It looks like summer's here!

No! It is not a great day to be a mailman, you jackass! You broke a sweat during our 20 second conversation before you bailed for the comfort of your air-conditioning! Think about it!

No, the mail trucks you see do not have air-conditioning, unless it's the van that my bosses drive around in to make sure we are all okay and still working.

And as a special little side note, to the woman who met me at the door to get the mail wearing a winter coat and a big smile who complained that her house was "just so cold",  ... that's a good way to wind up on a milk carton, lady! They don't call it "going postal" for nothing! Think about it!

Okay, I have to go finish my lunch. I'd take a nap, but I just don't have the energy.

Talk to you later! (And winter coat lady? I have my eye on you!)

And The Tale Gets Taller...

We sure do have some powerful weather here in New England, and that's no lie. Today was the most humid day we've had in a while around these parts, and it tends to get real humid around here. When I went out to the parking lot this morning to load up my mail truck the air was so thick it took almost a full minute to pull in each breath. All the carriers were out there open-mouthed, gasping like goldfish. I watched as one of the clerks inside the building rolled up one of the bay doors on the loading dock and called out to one of the carriers that he had forgotten a package. Well, the fool clerk, being inside in the air-conditioned building, didn't know how thick the air was out in the parking lot, and he tried to toss that package out to the carrier. We all watched as the package sailed out of the processed air inside and into the humidity outside, and came to rest about eight feet off the ground sitting on a packed pile of that thick air.
Well, we weren't sure just how to get that package down, what with it sitting there on nothing but air, other than waiting for the weather to break. The clerk went into the building, though,  and came back to the loading dock with a long pole. He reached that pole out and pushed that package down like a man trying to sink a basketball in a pool. Eventually he managed to shove the package down into the carrier's waiting hands and, since the show was over, we all hit the road.
I was walking along, delivering my route, and I had to lean forward at a 45 degree angle just to make any headway through the atmosphere. I was struggling step after step, trying to breathe and wishing it would just rain and get it over with, when the sky opened up and water came dumping down.
It was raining hard. I mean hard. And raining hard around here may be a little different in this part of the country than it is wherever you're from. The water was falling so solidly that I heard a splash and when I looked to see what it was I found a bird that had just fallen out of the sky. It must not have been from around here, was probably just migrating through, and hadn't yet learned the knack of breathing where the rain wasn't. The poor thing had started to drown while flying through the air! Well, I got it under the shelter of someone's porch and held it up out of the knee deep river of runoff water while I gave it artificial respiration until it recovered.
By this time, some of my customers were coming out to get the mail from me in canoes and kayaks, and one old guy had a rowboat, and I gave the little bird to one him to take care of as I slogged on through the flood. I was making progress in my route slow but sure. Then, just as I was figuring that the rest of my day would be like this, the rain stopped. The clouds parted and the sun came out like God himself had flipped a light switch.
Well that sun came down so strong and hard the water from the rain runoff (which was waist deep by then) started to boil. Great clouds of steam rose up, and I took refuge on another handy porch in order to avoid cooking my legs, not to mention my 'unmentionables'.  It was while I was on that porch waiting for all that water to boil off that another customer came out to get her mail. She's an older lady who came here  from somewhere's else when she retired, and it's taking her a while to get used to our weather. She came out to get that mail from inside the house where she had been keeping dry. So dry, in fact, that that new and powerful sunlight set her shirt on fire in about a half a second. She started flailing her arms and hollerin' away, but I just hustled her inside and put her out with the vegetable sprayer in the kitchen sink.
Well, it alternated the pouring rain with the burning sun for the rest of the day and I managed to keep wet enough to avoid bursting into flames myself while I finished my route. When I got back to the Post Office, my boss wanted to know what had taken me so long. I told him it was the weather.
"Well," he says, "I was in a meeting all day in a room with no windows. What kind of weather did we have?"
"This is New England," I answered. "It almost goes without saying that you name it, we had it!"

*********************

Sorry. I read a book recently where one of the characters tells a lot of Tall Tales. It kind of stuck in my head.
Basically, when it wasn't pouring rain today it was hot as hell.

Talk to you later!

Meteorological Accountability?

It's raining.
It was supposed to rain, but not right off. It was supposed to be a little crappy in the morning (Okay, they were calling it overcast  rather than crappy, but it amounts to the same thing) and rain in the afternoon sometime. It wasn't supposed to rain first thing in the morning and keep on all day.
But it did.
If you look in the back of my jeep, you will see two hanging racks, one front one back, upon which rest 6 fishing rods. This is not unusual, as there are always fishing rods in the back of the jeep. There have been as many as 20 or so, but that was for a special trip. 6 is about usual for me, just in case the opportunity arises.
I like to fish.
If you look on the back of my jeep you will see a 14 foot, three-man canoe strapped down to the roof-rack. One strap front, one back, with an extra safety line in the rear just in case it decides to leave without me on a turn. Hasn't happened yet, and I've driven with the thing up there at speeds in excess of 75 mph, but just in case...  The canoe being up there is a little unusual.
It's the weekend, and Handsome is with me. Looking for something to do with him, I thought of fishing.
I know. A guy who drives around carrying 6 fishing rods, just in case, thought of fishing. Go figure.
So yesterday I checked the weather. Overcast in the morning followed by rain in the late afternoon/evening. Chance of rain 30%.
Huzzah!  I thought,  I can work with that!
So, while I was at the House that Once Was Mine, I grabbed the flotation vests. I grabbed the paddles. I grabbed the anchor. I took the EZ Transport cart that really needs one tire blown up again before I strap it to the canoe and try to pull it anywhere. Then I grabbed the 14 foot, 90 lb, 3 man canoe, wrestled it onto the jeep roof and strapped it down. I was like the Grinch stealing Christmas, grabbing all the boxes and bags; I was actually looking to grab the Roast Beast. Handsome's fishing rod is one of the 6, so I was totally good to go for a morning canoe trip. Just drive out to the river, slap the boat on the water, and bang, fishing time's a go!
Then this morning came.
I stood there in the kitchen with the container of pancake mix in hand (yes, the pancakes have been fine, I have never had a replay of the Breakfast Gone Horribly Wrong), looking out the window at the rain pounding on the underside of my canoe as it lay there strapped to my jeep roof. I was picturing the meteorologist who made the forecast that I read yesterday sitting in his own kitchen. Eating his own pancakes. Looking out his own window. Seeing his own rain. In my mind, he looked smug. In my mind, he was unapologetic. In my mind he gazed out the window and said "whoops" with a smile, as he picked up the syrup.
In my mind, I entered his kitchen. In my mind, when he looked surprised to see me, I told him not to worry one bit, that there was just a 30% chance that I was going to key his car in the afternoon or evening, and no chance that I had just done it as I walked by the car on the way to his door. I said not to worry, that there was no chance at all that I had slipped ipicac into his syrup, and just a 30% chance that I had slipped anything else in there. And then, in my mind, as he began to look panicked, grabbed his stomach and vomited explosively onto his own breakfast table, I smiled, and looked smug, and said "whoops!"

"What?"
"Huh?" I said.
Handsome had come into the kitchen, looking for breakfast, as I stood there gazing out the window, lost in thought.
"You said 'whoops'."
"I did?"
"Yeah. What's so funny?"
"Huh?"
"Upstairs you were sad 'cuz of the rain. Why are you smiling now?"
"Uh ... I just love you, Handsome. Pancakes?"
"Yeah, sure."
He was looking at me oddly, and I guess I don't blame him. I have a powerful imagination, and it helps me with my writing. He has a good one too, and I figure he was trying to imagine why I would be staring out at the rain, smiling and talking to myself. I don't know if it would have comforted him to have me explain it.
Could I explain it?

Whoops!

The canoe is still up there, and I'll see what the sky is doing tomorrow morning. In the meantime I'll just go to bed and dream of things unheard of. Like meteorological accountability.

Meteorological accountability? Wow, I really do have a hell of an imagination!

Talk to you later!

P.S. - I almost forgot! If you'd like to guide me toward writing something funny, then please take a poke at the poll in the upper right of your screen. I actually do have funny stories, and you can help me choose one to tell you!

ttyl!

Tornados vs. Nor'easters

Today I met a someone from my writing group face to face for the first time. My writing group is all online, and we have members in the group as far away as Spain and Australia. At least two of the members that I know of are in Colorado, and D- is one of them. I have written to her online before, and we have critiqued each-other's work before, but this was the first time we've had a chance to meet. She's a wonderful lady, with a great sense of humor, and her writing is really excellent.
The subject of yesterday's tornado warning came up, and she told one of her stories of being in the area where one touched down. She said that the weather goes a little crazy, with wind and rain and hail, all of which we had yesterday. She said that you can tell a tornado is coming when it gets suddenly and completely still, and the sky takes on a green tint. I said that was interesting, and a good thing to lear. I probably wouldn't have ever known that without her telling me, since we don't have tornadoes, as a regular thing, in Massachusetts.
"No," she said, "but you have nor'easters!"
"Yes," I replied, "but where you watch the sky to tell you if a tornado is coming, we watch the stores."
"The stores?"
"Yep. When all he milk and bread just up and disappears, a nor'easter's coming!"
D- laughed, but I wasn't kidding. For some reason, it seems, whenever the weather reports the possibility of a storm of any severity in Massachusetts, certain people seem hard-wired to go stock up on milk, bread, and other perishables.
I don't understand it.
I've lived in this State for 42 years, and I don't recall ever having the stores shut down for any serious length of time. We have had some humdinger storms, too. The blizzard of '78 comes to mind. Some of the storms we've had in recent years have been pretty bad. The canopy over the pumps at one of the gas stations near my house collapsed this past year due to the weight of the snow. That must have been something to see!
But through all this, I don't recall ever going without supplies for any serious amount of time. Not like the flood victims down south, or the hurricane victims in Florida... nothing like that.
But still, certain people hear the words 'nor'easter', or 'storm warning' coming from their television sets and they head right out to the stores like they're programmed. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of a kick-back network out there. When the stores have overstocked, or if sales are down that month, the store-owner calls his cousin, the t.v. meteorologist and says "Can you help me out? There'll be something in it for you..." Next thing you know, "winter storm warning" is coming from the lips of the man standing in the newsroom in front of the map of Massachusetts who, if you look closely, is pointing at Worcester and calling it Gloucester. There is a sudden run on milk and bread, and the store-owner smiles as he holds the door for all these people, suggesting they look at the display of snow shovels he has by the door.
I say, let'em buy up all the stuff in a panic. I'll wait and get some really fresh bread off the truck that'll be there in a day or two.
Another thing I've noticed about storms, especially winter storms, is that there are basically 3 types of drivers in the snow.

1. Those who are careful, but still know how to drive and keep the traffic moving. 
2. Those who seem to have something to prove, and drive even faster than they usually do. I tend to assume they are younger. Some of these geniuses have themselves SUVs, and they tend to forget that, though it does help you go and not get stuck, 4-wheel drive won't help you stop when all 4 wheels are on the same sheet of ice. I'm kind of counting on natural selection to weed these people out of the herd.
3. People who seem to have no idea how to drive in the snow, and move at a crawl no matter the conditions: fresh deep snow, fresh shallow snow, plowed snow, plowed sanded snow, and when the road is wet and the air is chilly. 

That third category can be kind of annoying, and I used to think that they were transplanted out-of-staters who just never learned to drive in the snow. Now I think differently. Now, I think their cars are actually going just as fast as they can at the moment, but they're weighed down by all the bread and milk they have stored in the trunk.
Weird people.

Talk to you later!

Hotdogs and Hailstones

No fishing today in Colorado, at least not for me. Today we went into Denver to Billy's Gourmet Hot Dogs, near Coors field. There was a coupon involved. A bus to a train, then walking for more than a dozen blocks. There was a weather warning for pm showers, but I had my rain jacket just in case. Good thing too, since just as we started walking it started to rain.
And rain.
My jacket, which is only water 'resistant' at this point, rather than water 'proof', was soaked through in the shoulders and upper back quite quickly. Upon my feet were sneakers, rather than boots, and they were soaked through pretty quickly as well. When we were about halfway there, the rain let up for a minute, then began again even harder. It was bouncing off my hood with quite a lot of noise, and since I neglected to put on a hat before we went, I could really feel the individual impacts on my head through the hood.
Hail. It was hailing out hard enough to hurt the skin.
Terrific.
It stopped hailing, but continued raining harder and softer in turns until we reached Billy's. Just as we walked in the door, the woman behind the counter was pointing to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall and saying "Wow! Will you look at that!"
So we did.
On the television the news was broadcasting a tornado warning for Denver and the surrounding areas. Right then. As we were walking for a dozen blocks.
12 blocks. Torrential rains. Stinging hail. A Tornado warning.
My first thought? This had better be one goddamn good hotdog!


The hotdog was okay.
But the sweet potato fries were fantastic!