The Valentine Back-rub

Posted on February 13, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Many people ask me, “Can romance still blossom when you’ve been married a long time, like 50 years?” I say absolutely, but then again, I’m still on my honeymoon at only 30 years in. The story is told of a couple who had hit a dry spell in their long marriage. The wife had implored her husband for a romantic dinner out, a moonlight walk hand-in-hand, anything. Yet he seemed more interested in his power tool collection or sports channels than he was his wife.

One night which coincidentally occurred on Valentines Day, he crawled in bed with her. It was then that he began to do something very out of the ordinary. While she acted like she was lightly sleeping, he began to touch her like he hadn’t in years. “Maybe the romance in their marriage wasn’t totally dead,” she thought. He began to lightly massage her arms, then her side, past her thighs to her legs the massage left her tingling. Even after ten minutes of this, she sensed a greater urgency in his touch. About to tell him his hands felt lovely upon her limbs, he promptly stopped and turned over. Perplexed by the sudden turn of events, she said in a sultry voice, “Why did you stop, that was marvelous?” To which he replied, “I found the remote!”

My advice this Valentine’s Day, offer your sweety a little extra attention. And for goodness sake, take the battery out of the remote. Because if you don’t, the bigger concern will not be changing a channel, it will be changing your sleeping arrangements, ie. the couch.

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Reward Me, I’m Honest

Posted on February 11, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

Why is it that you and I are the only ones left in the world who understand what the word honest means? I seethe with anger when I see politicians blatantly standing before their constituents and lie. It’s when they tout that a new piece of legislation will be the best thing since sliced bread; I know better. The Congressional Budget Office came out with a statistic this week that said the new healthcare law will eliminate over two and half million jobs in the next decade. Remarkably the next day, a politician came out and said that this was good news. He said less work will allow for individuals to relax and to slow down. He even added that families may even have more time for home cooked meals because they won’t be as rushed to buy fast food with the less work hours. I’m not an economist but don’t you need an income (job) to buy food? Will the word “unemployed” worker be replaced with “relaxed” worker? Take it from someone whose been unemployed several times, two things occur; you worry a lot and ramen noodles becomes a frequent meal of choice. How long will it be before we see political commentary from Star Trek’s Spock saying, “these politicians are highly illogical?”

A note to my congressman and senator, no one begrudges a plan. However I wish you’d think it through before you announce and enact it. Remember the famous quote by a majority leader who said, “We have to pass the bill to know what’s in it?” Anybody ever buy a used car before reading the fine print? Then you deserve the two toned rambler that sounds like a sewing machine when you exceed speeds of 50 miles per hour.

Some years ago a young boy lived in the wilds of Appalachia. Due to the scarcity of city amenities, his family had to use an outhouse. The young boy despised and hated the outhouse for many reasons. It was hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and the smell was never pleasant. To minimize the odors to the house, the outhouse was placed a distance away near a creek. Feeling agitated with the family’s bathroom situation, he decided he would push it into the water. Not thinking about what they’d use once it was gone, and seeing no family members present to witness the act, he pushed with all his strength and toppled into the swollen spring creek and watched the current carry it away.

Later that night at the dinner table his dad told him that he and the boy needed to make a trip to the woodshed. The boy knew what this meant, punishment. Trying to calm his nerves and rapidly beating heart, he asked his father why? To which his dad replied, “Because someone pushed the outhouse into the creek and I think that someone is you. It was, wasn’t it?”

The boy thinking fast said, “yes it was.” Then for good measure recalling a story from history his father had told him added, “Remember when George Washington’s father asked him if he had chopped down the cherry tree? His father said, “Yes I do.” To which the son exclaimed, “He didn’t get into trouble because he told his father the truth.”

“That is correct,” the dad replied, “but there is one major difference between your story and George Washington’s.” “The son replied, “and what would that be?” “George Washington’s father was not in the cherry tree when he cut it down.”

Like the father in the story, I get the same feeling that I’ve been pushed down the river by someone who also doesn’t have a plan? Considering the rancor coming from Washington lately, I believe the vehicle (legislation) they’ve used to float us down the river is just as undesirable as the one in the story, and I think it may be for the same reason!

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I Scared a State Trooper

Posted on February 6, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

This is a story that will be included in my future book.

In 2003 I was a sort of proud owner of a 1974 International School bus. The white painted bus had been converted into a 37 foot RV. Though the outside looked like I should be selling snow cones to migrant workers, the interior was quite nice. It had a nice log cabin theme running throughout.

I had purchased expensive wallpaper that looked like logs. The windows were trimmed in wood frame and I had running lights with bear and moose accents throughout. Converted gas lanterns over the kitchen sink added to the old cabin charm.

The RV sported a full size shower, toilet, two closets, two bunk beds, and a full kitchen and living room. It even boasted a mobile satellite system so we could catch up on all the sporting events.

It was May and I had meetings to attend in central Tennessee. Since the meetings lasted two full weeks, I decided it would be better to have my own RV rather than share bathroom facilities with tons of other attendees from a dormitory.

My teenage son Chris and I embarked on an odyssey that to this day has bonded us for life. For a trip that would normally take five and a half hours, it turned into a 13-hour nightmare.

The old bus only had a two-barrel carburetor and as long as you were on a level ground, you could make fairly decent speeds. But hit an incline, it would bog down to a crawl. What exasperated the road trip (unknown to me at the time) was the carburetor was stuck open and was pouring more gas into the chamber than it could handle. This made the manifold turn red from the heat as the over abundance of fuel ignited. As the pressure in the engine increased, it would blow back oil that would seep out the gasket. When the oil hit the red hot manifold, the oil would catch fire. This prompted us to travel at speeds of 15-to-20 miles per hour for hours with frequent stops to minimize the recurring flames under the hood.

We were fortunate that on the first 12 hours of the drive (with flashers on), we passed not one police car. This was important as we would surely had had to exit the highway for driving so slow. As we were closing in on Bowling Green and merging onto the busiest freeway on our trip, we pulled along side the road to rest. We had to let the bus cool down. It was now 1 am and we had to get to our destination by 6 am. We were responsible for cooking all the meals at our meetings. When the bus was cold, it could run for 45 minutes at 50 miles per hour until it would overheat again. We hoped that this little window of opportunity would get us to the first exit (our exit) in Tennessee before it petered out.

As we approached the Tennessee state line we were losing power fast. The engine was again burning fire engine red and the loss of power had us crossing the state line doing only 35 miles per hour. As we approached the exit, we saw flashing lights behind us. A state trooper was pulling us over for no doubt driving below the minimum speed. Despite the fact that our exit was a mere 100 yards away, we pulled to the side of the road. Figuring this could take some time, we decided to let the engine cool by shutting off the ignition.

What I did not know as I shut off the engine, was a young twenty-something year old Trooper had made his way out of his cruiser and was now walking behind our bus.

I can only describe what happened next as the loudest booming howitzer west of Bagdad. The shock wave that whooshed through the exhaust pipe from the engine, sounded like a hydrogen bomb had detonated. Kaboooooooom rang the hillsides! In my rear view mirror, I saw the fastest running trooper in Tennessee history diving into his car, peeling rubber at least eight car lengths behind us, jumping out, crouching behind his door, screaming into his loudspeaker, “COME OUT OF THE VEHICLE NOW !!!!

As we exited the bus, my teenage son got a fit of laughing. I sternly told him to stop. The officer not amused and still crouching behind his car door yelled at us, “What (unmentionable words) is going on?”

It was then that I surmised we did look a bit suspicious driving a bus at the crack of dawn looking like our vehicle had been rejected by an Appalachian clan from the movie, Next of Kin.

I quickly answered him that we were headed to religious meetings. He quickly yelled back on his loudspeaker, “You are NOT going any further on THIS highway!” I told him that it was okay as the exit I pointed too was the one just ahead of us.

Angrily he yelled at us, “I’ll escort you off the highway now!” With lights flashing, he followed us the 100 yards as we exited. He then took an immediate left hand turn and quickly sped back to the state line rest area; No doubt to change his pants.

After all we’d been through, my son and I laughed our exhaustion away as we headed into town for our our dawn rendezvous with breakfast preparations.

It’s not often you get away with pranking a police officer though I hadn’t intended too do so. Reflecting on that episode, I’ve often asked myself, “What religious meetings, or religion did he think we belonged? My guess by the way my bus looked, probably snake handlers.

Our experience did prove one old adage true, “if you’re going to do it right, go out with a bang.” By the way, if you find a large hunk of twisted metal in a tree along Interstate 65, I’ve been looking for that muffler.

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I’m Confused, What’s Bad for Me?

Posted on February 3, 2014 by enthusiasmiscontagious

If you’ve ever been to Times Square in New York City you’ll see that one of the buildings along the street has a scrolling news sign. It seems I need one of these each week just to keep me updated on what I see in the media that’s bad for me.

Talk about conflicting signals, this week I learned that I don’t know whether potato chips are a guilty pleasure or a intestinal hand grenade. A recent report stated that when a potato is fried, it enhances a cancer causing agent 39-times Federal guidelines. I also learned that the lemon wedges we place in our tea are teeming with germicidal vermin.

Not to be outdone on the food front, consumer advocates said this past week that the present stock of children’s car seats now have to be redesigned because they don’t meet new safety standards. How did we live in the 60’s and 70’s? When I was a baby I had a car seat that had hooks that hung over the seat. God forbid if the car ever rolled. I used to sleep in the back window of the car though, can you imagine that now? That fact alone tells us how small cars have shrunk since then. I’d need a Winnebago to do that now.

I’m under the impression that the media has a department they don’t like to talk about. It’s the Scare Mongering Department. I envision editors and big wigs each week pouring over depressing flowcharts trying to decide what story they can print or talk about live on a news show that can sap the joy out of our lives for another week.

“Hey Fred, let’s do a story that shows more people die from bean sprouts than from yellow cake uranium.” “Great, and while we’re at it, let’s tell everyone that outhouse basements are cleaner than any grocery cart handle at the supermarket.” Perfect!

Where does it stop? I was watching a television commercial, the spokesperson said the product was a wonder drug for their ailment. The tag at the end of the commercial downright scared me worse than the ailment. That’s when you hear the announcer say faster than an auctioneer, “Side effects include; bloating, embolisms, body part leakage, twenty pound earlobes, hammer toe, flu like symptoms, and the plague.”

I think I’d rather suffer the ailment!

I wish Spring would hurry up and get here, I’d love to go outside and get away from all this bad news and just lay in the sun. Oops, bad idea, I may get skin cancer. On second thought if you need me, I’ll be in the tub soaking with my ear plugs in.

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