This morning, Sue and I took our cameras downtown to take pictures. While we were walking, we talked about vocabulary words and how we ought to pick a new word or 2 every day and use it as often as we can that day. Yeah, like that will last longer than 30 minutes. In fact, Sue has already forgotten all about it. The word for today is ‘salubrious’… as in, “My! What a salubrious array of prescription drugs you have in the medicine cabinet, Mom”. Or, how about this: “Pork rinds are unsalubrious.”
Sue’s birthday is at the end of October. I asked her if she would like to go to Olive Garden for her birthday. She said, “Can we go today?” I meant a month and a half from now, but what the heck? I was hungry for a salubrious lunch. So we went and it was good. The waitress was kind of chirpy and too friendly, though. “Are WE ready to order yet?”
“Yes, WE are. Are you going to eat with us”? I just thought it. I didn’t say it. I’m not mean.
The point of my post today was to talk about what item is most useful to me. At this point, during lunch, I hadn’t decided what that is yet. At that moment, it would have been my fork. Earlier, when we were walking, it would have been my shoes. We talked about Gone With the Wind which was on TCM last night and we watched it. That was probably my 6th or 7th time to see it. Sue hasn’t seen it that many times, so I felt the need to point things out to her before they happened so she could be watching for them.
“The little girl is going to fall off her horse and die in this scene, so be ready for that.”
“Scarlet is going to shoot that guy in the face, then tell Melanie to take off her nightgown.”
“Any second now, a bunch of guys are going to attack Scarlet when she rides over the bridge.”
Sue said Gone With the Wind is to cinema what The Beatles are to music. Then our salad and bread sticks came. We stopped talking and started shoveling. And I thought some more. What is the most useful item I own? Vacuum cleaner is pretty useful. Washing machine is pretty useful. Lawnmower, dishes, chairs, pants…I can’t choose!
We got an air compressor last week. We had big plans for it, but we were afraid of it. We were supposed to let the motor run till the air pressure built up and the motor would shut off by itself, but it seemed like the pressure was getting awfully high and we would get scared and shut it off ourselves. Finally, we just let it run and the pressure built up and up and right when I had made peace with God and was ready to die, the motor shut itself off. Whew! I took back everything about being more tolerant, never cussing again and being less judgmental. I’ll save it for another time when I’m about to die. There’s no point in making peace with God if you’re already at peace with Him. You won’t have anything to do while you’re waiting to die. You’ll be bored.
I was going to remember my word, ‘salubrious’ by remembering that it begins like ‘salad’. But then, so does ‘salacious’ and do I really want to mistake one for the other? I wouldn’t want to ask the wrong person if they would like a salacious snack. It wouldn’t be useful and I’m trying to think of useful things.
There are too many useful things! I took off my glasses and went to splash some water on my face. Think! It’s hard to find my glasses when I’m not wearing them, so I just began to type some more. S0okdff ks;aduf aslkfh@ slasohyhg. Ahdofu & a;dhasljd. My spell check started to smell like kerosene and burning tires. I found my glasses and found my answer.
My glasses are the most useful thing I own!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Gone With the Air Compressor Wind - Sue
We are not experts on air compressors, okay? So when the pressure in the outake tank stayed at zero, Phyllis and I were stymied. The pressure in the holding tank kept going up. We only had seconds to act before the entire house and neighborhood exploded. Then The Thing shut off by itself.
All I wanted was a fighting chance in The War on Dirt. Lisle weighs just over a 100 pounds and 98 pounds of that is dander. When she shakes in the living room, every ten minutes or so, it snows, and three hours after washing all of the dust off of everything, we are again slogging through ash from Mt. St. Helens. Lisle's puppy video on youtube has 299,446 views. There are endless comments about how cute she is. No longer a puppy, she is still very cute, even with a head the size of a basketball. But when you can't find the couch under the mud, it's time for shock and awe.
We cracked open the manual and Phyllis read aloud while I wrung my hands. I've always had an aversion towards power tools. They're much too loud, and I make it a policy to stand clear of anything that can slice through solid oak like it's jello. This air compressor would gladly shred us like a meat grinder if it had a quarter of a chance. We had to go at it from a different angle... dissect its innards and reassemble, if only in our minds. We had to think like an air compressor.
When we first got her home, Phyllis started reading the manual while I turned her on and revved her up. The air compressor! I blew a few pounds of St. Bernard dander off of the blinds in the living room while Phyllis kept reading. Sometimes, I jump head first into a situation with a devil may care attitude. I threw caution to the wind that burst out of the nozzle, full steam ahead. A few minutes later, we smelled something burning. We shut her off.
We decided to put her away and think about that tomorrow. So that was last night, when I thought I would use her to blow out my computer. She's a pretty little unit, whore-house red, but pretty won't win The War on Dirt. Pretty won't even take a little hill.
So we tried her again and the intake tank filled up just fine. The needle kept rising to an alarming level. The holding tank stayed at zero, and no matter how many times I depressed the little handle, nothing happened. Then she shut off by herself. Phyllis brushed against what must have been an emergency release valve because POW! Air rushed out like puncturing a hot air balloon. If she had wings, she'd have flown to Dixie. The air compressor!
That was when Phyllis got out the manual again and a sense of impending doom spread over me. During the short time we had her, I had grown to love that gutsy little air compressor. Phyllis said not to worry, because she's had plenty of power tools and they are made to take a beating.
So, we put her away again to think about that tomorrow, and we watched Gone With the Wind.
All I wanted was a fighting chance in The War on Dirt. Lisle weighs just over a 100 pounds and 98 pounds of that is dander. When she shakes in the living room, every ten minutes or so, it snows, and three hours after washing all of the dust off of everything, we are again slogging through ash from Mt. St. Helens. Lisle's puppy video on youtube has 299,446 views. There are endless comments about how cute she is. No longer a puppy, she is still very cute, even with a head the size of a basketball. But when you can't find the couch under the mud, it's time for shock and awe.
We cracked open the manual and Phyllis read aloud while I wrung my hands. I've always had an aversion towards power tools. They're much too loud, and I make it a policy to stand clear of anything that can slice through solid oak like it's jello. This air compressor would gladly shred us like a meat grinder if it had a quarter of a chance. We had to go at it from a different angle... dissect its innards and reassemble, if only in our minds. We had to think like an air compressor.
When we first got her home, Phyllis started reading the manual while I turned her on and revved her up. The air compressor! I blew a few pounds of St. Bernard dander off of the blinds in the living room while Phyllis kept reading. Sometimes, I jump head first into a situation with a devil may care attitude. I threw caution to the wind that burst out of the nozzle, full steam ahead. A few minutes later, we smelled something burning. We shut her off.
We decided to put her away and think about that tomorrow. So that was last night, when I thought I would use her to blow out my computer. She's a pretty little unit, whore-house red, but pretty won't win The War on Dirt. Pretty won't even take a little hill.
So we tried her again and the intake tank filled up just fine. The needle kept rising to an alarming level. The holding tank stayed at zero, and no matter how many times I depressed the little handle, nothing happened. Then she shut off by herself. Phyllis brushed against what must have been an emergency release valve because POW! Air rushed out like puncturing a hot air balloon. If she had wings, she'd have flown to Dixie. The air compressor!
That was when Phyllis got out the manual again and a sense of impending doom spread over me. During the short time we had her, I had grown to love that gutsy little air compressor. Phyllis said not to worry, because she's had plenty of power tools and they are made to take a beating.
So, we put her away again to think about that tomorrow, and we watched Gone With the Wind.
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