I’ve warned The Chairman of this site that a procrastinator backed into deadline corner is a dangerous person, indeed. There’s no telling what happens when, running out the time-tether, he slams off his feet.
When the only way out is through the keyboard, desperation and revenge combine into a catalyst—and the reaction generates tales out of school—about The Chairman. And I can do this fearlessly, because (a) I baby-sit, by myself, even, and (b) The Crazyweiler likes me. So, there. Hah!
I don’t fear The Crazyweiler, because I’m always on his good side, even though that quite often puts me at the wrong end. Whenever the two of us are in company, Crazy backs into me with the subtlety of a boxcar bumped down a 2% grade—to have his lower back scratched, forever. Maybe it’s not the wrong end, after all, because petting The Crazyweiler’s head puts a person the danger zone of slobber. My Lord, that dog could drown a small animal with one friendly lick. Turn your back, and Crazy runs to get in front of you again—most often bludgeoning his way between your legs—an experience not unlike being ridden out of town on a (wet) rail. Uncle Ralph, in Missouri, has a saddle that would fit Crazy, but his bridle, from a Civil War cavalry horse, might be too small.
As for The Chairman, she was a girl with early and high aspirations. At age 6, she wanted to be princess when she grew up. Later, she decided to settle for life in “a small but exclusive suburb of Cheyenne, Wyoming.” She missed Cheyenne by 916 miles but did wind up on a farm. In a Big Sky context, perhaps Wright County is a Cheyenne suburb.
Put to bed early for an infraction, she called as I walked out of the room, “Daddy, you’re a wart hog!” I stormed back to her bedside. As she tensed for the triggered scolding, I said, instead, “Wart Hog? Hey, that’s pretty good.” What fun! I managed to baffle The Chairman. Any day that could happen was a good one, even then.
The Chairman’s in-laws are long suffering. They’re no doubt the only people in Wright County who—last winter—wound up with an anatomically correct snowman in front of the house, shaped to show visitors he was glad to see them.
Ah, finally, words on the screen; the headache’s gone, and my blood vessels have receded into the skin.
What? I’m supposed to post daily?
Posted by Professor at August 4, 2003 09:06 PM