Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

Friday, February 1, 2008

The Apple Never Falls Far from the Tree


Thanks to an early dismissal and parents' picnic lunch with the kids of Christ the King, Alison and I got to play hooky this afternoon. I asked Ali if she wanted to go shopping or go to Blockbuster or do something fun, but she wanted to just come home. She's been desperate to buy the Littlest Pet Shop's Biggest Littlest Pet Shop, but we've told her that she'll have to use her own money for the $38.99 item.

Ali doesn't have an allowance yet, so she's been trying to talk us into odd jobs around the house. Coming home from school, I had a feeling she had a pitch for me, and she didn't disappoint.

"Hey, Mom, got any jobs for me?" she asked.

I told her I'd pay her $5 if she helped me with the laundry and cleaned up the family room. She thought that would be ok, but first, she thought she'd watch some television. One episode turned into three, which was fine with me because I was working in my office while she watched TV. After an hour, though, I asked her about that job and we set about doing the laundry. She helped me sort and load the washer and even fold and put away the load I'd forgotten about from last weekend that was still hanging out in the dryer.

While she allowed that the family room looked just fine to her, she picked up her stuffed animals and watched closely as I showed her how the vacuum worked. She started sweeping as I tried to make some sense of Jeff's desk. His work area takes up at least a quarter of the family room and his filing system is rivaled only by that of Bob Johnson and those people who live in houses with small paths between towers of old National Geographic magazines. I found a receipt from 2006 among his piles and piles of paper...

I look up from organizing Jeff's stacks, and hear her muttering, "This is lame. This is so lame. Have I earned my $5 yet? Man, this is so booooooorrrrrrrinnnng."

"That's why we call it work, honey," I chirped.

After a while, still knee deep in ancient paper, I asked her to go to the laundry room and put the clean clothes in the dryer. After a few minutes, I went in to check on her to find her method was to climb INTO the washer and toss the clothes into the dryer next door.

This is funny for many reasons, chief among them the fact that when I was just old enough to walk, I found my way into my mother's laundry room and climbed up to investigate the noise that big white thing was making. I don't remember this, but based on the family legend, I tipped myself into the working washer.

I think it was a wringer-washer. It must have been because all the washers I know about won't work unless the lid is closed -- right? Anyway, my mother walked into the laundry room to find my little blue body bobbing around in a circle along with my sibling's dirty underwear. I'm not sure how I didn't expire -- good luck and probably she was so scared she pushed the water right out of me when she dragged me out. It was only the first of many near-deaths by water. The others were at the hands of my ever-loving siblings, but those are stories for another day...

Anyway, after working on the laundry, Ali got out the Swiffer and dusted the whole house -- an extra chore not negotiated in our earlier agreement. She proposed that I add a dollar to her fee. Jeff will be unhappy that I didn't haggle a bit, but I thought she deserved it. She's now got $22 toward her big purchase.

And of course she's now resting from her day on the job-- in front of the television, messing up the family room and clutching her six dollars.

I'm going to have to get back to work soon, but was nudged into updating the blog by my good friend Jackie Meyers-Thompson. Jackie grew up in Chicago. She's heard of small towns and country life, but hasn't actually spent much time in either. She's never seen meat outside of a grocery story and has never really believed any of my stories about home. She may be the biggest fan the TeamReed blog has.

My dad would have loved her. He would also have loved to laugh at her. At a recent visit to her in-laws in Appalachia, she was told setting on a tour of the place that everyone on the mountain was kin. When she she met the first relative, she brought out her very best manners, stuck out her hand said, "Hello! I'm Jackie. You must be Ken!"

BillyRayBob was confused, as was Jackie. Jackie's husband just closed his eyes and shook his head. My dad would have laughed even harder than I did when Jackie recounted her story.

Anyway, I'm back to work now. Playing hooky is fun!

Monday, January 21, 2008

Oh you disbelievers!


For those of you who don't believe that real people actually consume varmints of the woods, or more pointedly, that I ever did, I give you this photographic proof. It was taken when I was about 4-years-old, I think. It was during squirrel season, of course, and we were showing off the bounty of the hunt. I'm the one closest to my Dad and apparently most proud of my catch. (The kids didn't go hunting; we just showed off the catch before they became dinner.) I'm not sure how old my brothers were before they got to go with the big boys, but from the look on Donnie's face, I'm guessing this either wasn't his year, or he'd been left behind on this particular hunt. While I've renounced squirrel, plenty of folks back home still enjoy the delicacy -- among others. I should organize a trip for all my city friends...