A lover's vow I give to thee!
A lover's trust that thou might see
My love is thine! And thine alone!
I love thee and I love thy bone!
I love thy sloppy slobbery kiss!
I love it that thou dost so miss
Me when I am gone and come to greet
The owner that gives thee a juicy treat!
I love thy big fat thumping tail
I even love thy hound-dawg wail!
I love thy flopping ears with ticks
And the way you fetch those big ole sticks.
I love thee, dawg, for thou art true!
Of all my loves, I love most YOU!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Grass is Greener On the Other Side of the Road...
So pardon me if I deviate from my agenda of enlightening you on the life of a campground attendant...my attention span is....oh look!!! A butterfly! Anyway, I can write about whatever it was...what? The Grass is Greener? OH! I remember that old saying...
Yes...let's have a little fun with that... found one my manuscripts (stuck to the fence).
Paris Hilton: Ooooo! It is? Well take my little dog over there to use it then!
Bill Clinton: I only inhaled once. So it really doesn't matter.
OBama: That's right! So get your gr-ass over here to my side of the fence!
McCain: You are deceived. It is not green. Let's all be real Americans and mow it down.
Bush: Ain't no grass in Texas. But I know where there are some damned fine tumbleweeds. (and a few oil wells)
Brittany Spears: I am really not even interested in that anymore.
Brad Pitt: That is exactly what we have been saying. So don't adopt locally.
Sheriff: Fire up the helicopter, boys, and let's go!
Willie Nelson: Grass? Where?
Cow poking his head through barbed wire: Yup.
Yes...let's have a little fun with that... found one my manuscripts (stuck to the fence).
Paris Hilton: Ooooo! It is? Well take my little dog over there to use it then!
Bill Clinton: I only inhaled once. So it really doesn't matter.
OBama: That's right! So get your gr-ass over here to my side of the fence!
McCain: You are deceived. It is not green. Let's all be real Americans and mow it down.
Bush: Ain't no grass in Texas. But I know where there are some damned fine tumbleweeds. (and a few oil wells)
Brittany Spears: I am really not even interested in that anymore.
Brad Pitt: That is exactly what we have been saying. So don't adopt locally.
Sheriff: Fire up the helicopter, boys, and let's go!
Willie Nelson: Grass? Where?
Cow poking his head through barbed wire: Yup.
So...You Think You Want to be a Campground Attendant...Part I
Never fails. All summer long we get probing comments/questions and sidelong envious glances from folks who have idealized our jobs and think they want it. About this time of the year they even get downright pushy, breathing over our shoulder like rabid vultures waiting for the season to end and wondering if we "will be back next year".
Since we are too old to sweat, know we do a good job at what we do, and we were't looking for this job when God saw to it we had it in the first place ...we manage to smile without grinding our teeth. Besides, the fact is...we used to do the same thing!
The truth is...running a campground is NOT like "getting to camp six months" out of the year. If you are outside you are on duty. Period. Regardless of what the sign says on the gatehouse. That is why we have had exactly one campfire in the last five months. The truth is, if you are INSIDE you are also on duty. No matter what time it is. Pick a time in the wee hours: 2:00 AM, 3:00 AM, 4:00 AM...I don't care what time you choose...because whatever it is, someone has come banging on our camper door and usually for something inconsequential.
I don't mean to discourage those who think our job is the "next thing to heaven". Clearly there are benefits. And we DO work with and for some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to work with. The majority of the regular campers have become almost like family. In fact most people who stay at this campground are family oriented/fishermen and really are not a great deal of trouble. But there are a few thunks to think too:
a) Do you mind sitting outside your camper on your off hours and being interrupted at least once every five minutes? Can you still be courteous, professional and smile?
b) Do you mind being awakened at any hour of the night or morning by someone who has either not read the hours on the gatehouse or does not care? Can you smile even though your sleep apnea machine is tangled around your ankles?
c) Can you live with your spouse in a camper or motorhome for six months without being indicted for murder in the first degree?
d) Can you live without a single day off in six months? If you manage to slip off for a day or so, can you be ready to return at the drop of a hat if your spouse (who is left running it) gets sick or the campground gets suddenly busy? And forget weekend slipping off at all. Ain't gonna happen. Also isn't allowed.
e) Are you prepared to miss family birthdays, reunions, funerals, weddings, etc.? The campground must go on...and this is what you signed up for. Family just has to deal with it. And you do too.
f) Are you prepared to work fourteen hour days through the holidays and busy season? (That is "on the clock" hours...it may actually be more like sixteen to eighteen).
g) Are you prepared to plan your dental procedures and medical complications around the number of campers expected in during a particular time of the week...and probably attend to your own surgery or root canal without your spouse there to hold your hand?
h) You do realize you are paid the same regardless of the hours worked that week, regardless of the extra things that occurred, regardless of the number of times you had to attend to someone/thing on your "off hours", regardless? You do realize you are given no medical benefits, sick leave, personal leave and are responsible for paying your taxes and social security on your own?
i) You DO understand you are working SEVEN days a week for SIX MONTHS and there is no one to "fill in", don't you? That's right. We have not had a day off since April. Or a night.
Ok, if you read all this and you think you can still smile and be professional through it all...and it is possible. Hubby and I do. If you read all this and think that, then you MIGHT be material for a job like this... But hang on. I have some fun to share with you.
The writer in me couldn't resist. And as we have had this adventure, I had to document... :) Check back tomorrow!
Since we are too old to sweat, know we do a good job at what we do, and we were't looking for this job when God saw to it we had it in the first place ...we manage to smile without grinding our teeth. Besides, the fact is...we used to do the same thing!
The truth is...running a campground is NOT like "getting to camp six months" out of the year. If you are outside you are on duty. Period. Regardless of what the sign says on the gatehouse. That is why we have had exactly one campfire in the last five months. The truth is, if you are INSIDE you are also on duty. No matter what time it is. Pick a time in the wee hours: 2:00 AM, 3:00 AM, 4:00 AM...I don't care what time you choose...because whatever it is, someone has come banging on our camper door and usually for something inconsequential.
I don't mean to discourage those who think our job is the "next thing to heaven". Clearly there are benefits. And we DO work with and for some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to work with. The majority of the regular campers have become almost like family. In fact most people who stay at this campground are family oriented/fishermen and really are not a great deal of trouble. But there are a few thunks to think too:
a) Do you mind sitting outside your camper on your off hours and being interrupted at least once every five minutes? Can you still be courteous, professional and smile?
b) Do you mind being awakened at any hour of the night or morning by someone who has either not read the hours on the gatehouse or does not care? Can you smile even though your sleep apnea machine is tangled around your ankles?
c) Can you live with your spouse in a camper or motorhome for six months without being indicted for murder in the first degree?
d) Can you live without a single day off in six months? If you manage to slip off for a day or so, can you be ready to return at the drop of a hat if your spouse (who is left running it) gets sick or the campground gets suddenly busy? And forget weekend slipping off at all. Ain't gonna happen. Also isn't allowed.
e) Are you prepared to miss family birthdays, reunions, funerals, weddings, etc.? The campground must go on...and this is what you signed up for. Family just has to deal with it. And you do too.
f) Are you prepared to work fourteen hour days through the holidays and busy season? (That is "on the clock" hours...it may actually be more like sixteen to eighteen).
g) Are you prepared to plan your dental procedures and medical complications around the number of campers expected in during a particular time of the week...and probably attend to your own surgery or root canal without your spouse there to hold your hand?
h) You do realize you are paid the same regardless of the hours worked that week, regardless of the extra things that occurred, regardless of the number of times you had to attend to someone/thing on your "off hours", regardless? You do realize you are given no medical benefits, sick leave, personal leave and are responsible for paying your taxes and social security on your own?
i) You DO understand you are working SEVEN days a week for SIX MONTHS and there is no one to "fill in", don't you? That's right. We have not had a day off since April. Or a night.
Ok, if you read all this and you think you can still smile and be professional through it all...and it is possible. Hubby and I do. If you read all this and think that, then you MIGHT be material for a job like this... But hang on. I have some fun to share with you.
The writer in me couldn't resist. And as we have had this adventure, I had to document... :) Check back tomorrow!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Spousal Conversation: Midlife Changes
"Honey, we have to talk."
"For heaven's sake. Do we have to go into this again??"
"Why won't you listen to reason? We agreed on this when we got married!"
"And that was twenty years ago, and you haven't let up in the last ten! I changed my mind!"
"We aren't getting any younger."
"Look....I just can't go through all that again."
"I will get up at night."
"I am too old to cope with the stages."
"I will cope with the stages."
"Uh huh. And you won't cope with what starts to happen when it turns thirteen."
"At this rate, I won't live long enough to remember!"
"Honey, honestly...I can't do this."
"Then what if we just get a small one? Say...a dachshund?"
"For heaven's sake. Do we have to go into this again??"
"Why won't you listen to reason? We agreed on this when we got married!"
"And that was twenty years ago, and you haven't let up in the last ten! I changed my mind!"
"We aren't getting any younger."
"Look....I just can't go through all that again."
"I will get up at night."
"I am too old to cope with the stages."
"I will cope with the stages."
"Uh huh. And you won't cope with what starts to happen when it turns thirteen."
"At this rate, I won't live long enough to remember!"
"Honey, honestly...I can't do this."
"Then what if we just get a small one? Say...a dachshund?"
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
Because I could not stop for death,
He kindly stopped for me,
And knock-ed on my cottage door
To serve me poisoned tea.
"I know you're young," said this man Dread,
"Yet even youth take time to be dead.
I have never been a respector of youth!"
"And you," I answered, "Are most uncouth!
How dare you bring your rot to me?
You with your obituary?
For I am not finished, I am not done,
I will have my say, every single one.
And God is standing at my side,
Away on His Plan I intend to ride!
The story may yet come to an end,
But you will not an addendum rend.
For my story, there is a SEQUEL!
And you, Mr. Death, are not God's Equal!"
(Apologies Dear Emily, I love thee....but I like my version better!)
He kindly stopped for me,
And knock-ed on my cottage door
To serve me poisoned tea.
"I know you're young," said this man Dread,
"Yet even youth take time to be dead.
I have never been a respector of youth!"
"And you," I answered, "Are most uncouth!
How dare you bring your rot to me?
You with your obituary?
For I am not finished, I am not done,
I will have my say, every single one.
And God is standing at my side,
Away on His Plan I intend to ride!
The story may yet come to an end,
But you will not an addendum rend.
For my story, there is a SEQUEL!
And you, Mr. Death, are not God's Equal!"
(Apologies Dear Emily, I love thee....but I like my version better!)
Saturday, September 18, 2010
The Big C
The Big C
Came knocking at my door,
And it did not rap gently.
I saw it walking up the street
And I knew it was coming to my house,
But I pretended it was going to keep
Meandering and choose some other cottage
To disrupt.
I pretended because I did not have time for it,
Because I did not want pitying glances,
Because I did not want my loved ones to be upset
Over me and my visitor,
Because I did not want to die.
It came without meandering at all,
In a very straight determined line, with a
Very firm clipping step,
And it knocked at my door
With no gentleness and with
Incessant persistance.
I ignored it until the holiday
was over.
That was easy to do with all the laughter
In my house, with all the rustling
of brightly colored papers,
With all the scents of promising
dishes, and all the love
Lingering.
They left my house still laughing,
Clutching contents of pretty boxes,
and followed by all the warmth
Of love breezes still clinging.
They didn't even notice
My ugly visitor
Waiting on the porch.
I let them go.
I opened the door again.
I told Big C,
"You can't come in.
You aren't welcome here.
But I can see, you are going to stay a while.
So sit there on my porch,
While I go back inside
And figure out how much of me
I will let you take."
Came knocking at my door,
And it did not rap gently.
I saw it walking up the street
And I knew it was coming to my house,
But I pretended it was going to keep
Meandering and choose some other cottage
To disrupt.
I pretended because I did not have time for it,
Because I did not want pitying glances,
Because I did not want my loved ones to be upset
Over me and my visitor,
Because I did not want to die.
It came without meandering at all,
In a very straight determined line, with a
Very firm clipping step,
And it knocked at my door
With no gentleness and with
Incessant persistance.
I ignored it until the holiday
was over.
That was easy to do with all the laughter
In my house, with all the rustling
of brightly colored papers,
With all the scents of promising
dishes, and all the love
Lingering.
They left my house still laughing,
Clutching contents of pretty boxes,
and followed by all the warmth
Of love breezes still clinging.
They didn't even notice
My ugly visitor
Waiting on the porch.
I let them go.
I opened the door again.
I told Big C,
"You can't come in.
You aren't welcome here.
But I can see, you are going to stay a while.
So sit there on my porch,
While I go back inside
And figure out how much of me
I will let you take."
Friday, September 17, 2010
10 Things I Learned from My Kids
10. If you hear a puppy crying in the breezeway all night, and you don't own a puppy, you do now.
9. If the ceiling suddenly starts springing water, and plaster lands at your feet, your son has left the water running in the upstairs sink (again).
8. If you spot your son's teacher at the grocery and she looks at you blankly when you gush about the award she just gave him...he forged it.
7. If you call your own phone number only to get a recording of a youthful voice explaining that when his parents "get out" "from serving 8-10" he will have them return the call...count to 10010 before going home.
6. If your daughter swears up and down the kitty you finally allowed her to adopt from her little friend at school is a BOY kitten....check it out before the mother of the little friend you don't know drives off.
5. If you THOUGHT you were seeing things....there MIGHT be a mouse in the house...but there could not possibly be multiple WHITE mice.... you probably are not seeing things. Check with your eldest son. (Remember that community play he was in at Halloween? Remember what they used as props, caged of course? Well...after the play...they had to go somewhere....)
4. Never ever tell that same son to load the dishwasher without explaining the differences in detergents...not unless you want to wade through three feet of bubbles in your kitchen floor.
3. Remember that same son? Remember that weird sound you heard overhead? Yeah, he was riding his bicycle off the second story roof. His siblings will tell you about it in about ten years.
2. If your fifty foot pine tree is swaying in the wind...but there is no wind...check and see where four of your children are.
1. Do not lose your mind. Sons (and daughters) more often than not have a way of growing up, becoming (hopefully) responsible citizens, and apologizing for all the gray hairs they gave you (of course they are laughing as they do so!!! But this time, so are you!!!).
9. If the ceiling suddenly starts springing water, and plaster lands at your feet, your son has left the water running in the upstairs sink (again).
8. If you spot your son's teacher at the grocery and she looks at you blankly when you gush about the award she just gave him...he forged it.
7. If you call your own phone number only to get a recording of a youthful voice explaining that when his parents "get out" "from serving 8-10" he will have them return the call...count to 10010 before going home.
6. If your daughter swears up and down the kitty you finally allowed her to adopt from her little friend at school is a BOY kitten....check it out before the mother of the little friend you don't know drives off.
5. If you THOUGHT you were seeing things....there MIGHT be a mouse in the house...but there could not possibly be multiple WHITE mice.... you probably are not seeing things. Check with your eldest son. (Remember that community play he was in at Halloween? Remember what they used as props, caged of course? Well...after the play...they had to go somewhere....)
4. Never ever tell that same son to load the dishwasher without explaining the differences in detergents...not unless you want to wade through three feet of bubbles in your kitchen floor.
3. Remember that same son? Remember that weird sound you heard overhead? Yeah, he was riding his bicycle off the second story roof. His siblings will tell you about it in about ten years.
2. If your fifty foot pine tree is swaying in the wind...but there is no wind...check and see where four of your children are.
1. Do not lose your mind. Sons (and daughters) more often than not have a way of growing up, becoming (hopefully) responsible citizens, and apologizing for all the gray hairs they gave you (of course they are laughing as they do so!!! But this time, so are you!!!).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)