Blast from the Past

Hello, F.O.T.E.'s,
For some reason, this time of year always makes me reminisce. There's nothing exciting going on here right now, so I thought I'd do a "best of" post for you. Some new folks have probably never heard the following story...

"Thursday, October 14, 2004

G.O.M. and The Nice Tan Van
There once was a Nice Tan Van. It belonged to a Nice Family with four Lovely Children, who would never have spilled soda or water or juice in the floor and certainly never have drawn a picture of a little girl on the back of the seat in front of them. The Lovely Children never complained about sitting in the very back and they definitely would never argue with the others while riding in the Nice Tan Van. The four children were dearly, dearly loved. One day, the Nice Tan Van caught a bug. It coughed and sputtered, but never quit running, such a loyal van it was. The Nice Family took the van to a mechanic. Several days later, the mechanic called the Daddy to pick up the van. When Daddy drove the van, it still coughed and sputtered. Mommy made a mad face. This had happened many times. Daddy tried to take the Nice Van to another mechanic, but the mechanic never showed up at his garage. What happened to that nice mechanic? Finally, Daddy asked a Friendly Man at work to recommend a mechanic. The Friendly Man told Daddy where to take the Nice Van, but he told Daddy that the mechanic didn't have a phone. He also told Daddy that the mechanic only worked Monday through Wednesday. And only between the hours of 6:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. Daddy tried and tried to take the Nice Van to the mechanic, but he kept missing him. Each time Daddy would drive to the garage, the man wasn't there. Finally, Daddy went to the garage and the mechanic was there. Daddy noticed that the garage was very, very clean--no oil stains anywhere. He also noticed that there were no other automobiles at the garage. (Mommy had noticed before then that the garage was in a rather deserted, dark, rough-looking part of town, but Mommy didn't say anything--she didn't want to be negative.) When Daddy went into the Very Tidy Garage, he found a very old mechanic. The mechanic seemed annoyed that Daddy had brought him a van to look at. Daddy noticed that the Grumpy Old Mechanic had very clean fingernails. Daddy felt a bit nervous. G.O.M. told Daddy that he went home at 3:30 each day. He told Daddy that he'd have the nice tan van ready at 3:00. When Daddy said, "Goodbye!" the G.O.M. just said, "Hmph." Daddy said the mechanic didn't seem very happy. When Daddy returned to the garage that afternoon, the G.O.M. told him that the nice tan van wasn't ready. He told Daddy to come back the next day. So, the next day, at 3:25 p.m., Daddy went back to the Very Tidy Garage. The G.O.M. was not there!! The doors were locked, and the Nice Tan Van was locked behind a chainlink, barbed wire fence. Daddy made a mad face. The next day, Daddy went back to the Very Tidy Garage. The G.O.M. was there. Daddy paid him for fixing the Nice Tan Van and told him, "Goodbye!" The Grumpy Old Mechanic just said, "Hmph." Daddy took the Nice Tan Van back to Mommy and when she drove it, she smiled. The Nice Tan Van no longer coughed or sputtered! Hurray! It was fixed. Mommy and Daddy decided that they would use the Grumpy Old Mechanic again. The Moral of the Story: In the Land of Poor Service, the Grumpy Old Mechanic is King.
Posted by Mama Lamba at 10/14/2004 04:49:00 PM"



Y'all keep your wool dry,
The Ewe

Happy Fall, Y'all!

Hello, F.O.T.E.'s!
I'm out of hibernation now, so I'm enjoying the outdoors again. (deep inhale)
I've seen several doctors, and no one can seem to figure out my thyroid issues that make me overheat so easily. That makes summers pretty miserable for me. But, anyway, we made it through another one. :-)
My little one just got up, so I need to go, but before I do I want to share the following (well- known) poem with you.


"When the Frost is on the Punkin"


WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here
—Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...
I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me—
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

---James Whitcomb Riley (1853–1916)

Gotta run,
Y'all keep your wool dry,
The Ewe