Thursday, October 29, 2009

Sometimes The Music Makes Me Cry. (A Video)

So our band Keota was playing a gig last Saturday evening and we whipped out a couple of new songs. Just before this video started I tried to explain to the crowd that "sometimes WE are just a half a bubble off with our songwriting" and the rest of the band, in unison... declared that it was "I" who was not quite right.

I take a little pride in that.

I was out in the shop one day working and had the stupid Petticoat Junction song stuck in my head. How, you might ask does this happen. Gamma Rays and laser beams. I'm subjected to 'em all the time and this is what happens. Anyway one thing led to another and I started winging in some other television shows from that era and then sprung it on the band at a practice one evening.

Their reaction? If I remember correctly they sat and stared at me. :-)

But... it (the tune) kinda grows on you a bit I think. The few that have heard it either sit with a silly smile on their faces, or are laughing hysterically the whole time. That's a good thing.

So we whipped this sucker out the other evening, and it came out... uh... kinda loose and sloppy. The first time I watched this video, folks I sat and laughed til I cried. Hoo Boy!

Here it is in the raw, blogging world. "Tuesday Nite TV". Thank you, thank you very much.

Forgive me Jed Clampett.

(here's the URL if the embedding doesn't make it here on Blogger... )

Going to Nashville with the band for a few days, have a great weekend everyone!!


Sunday, October 25, 2009

Dream Analysis Part 2!!!

Okay so it started with this post and then... the analysis started with THIS post. Today, I'm gonna drop my glasses down on the end of my nose, touch a pen to my lips, put on my "and how do you feel about that" face and finish with the rest of y'all.

Here we go!


Oh My Goddess wrote wittily...

"I had this dream that someone would use the word cowgina in a post which also referenced Amish Graffiti.

Coincidence? I think not."

Firstly, I wonder about the honesty of actually having a dream such as this, but that's okay because it further allows me to put a little more perspective on the thing. Goddess, your desire to follow the veterinary field is rooted deeply in your heart. The need to help the Amish people with animal husbandry is something you should absolutely follow! Please quit the self denial! There is a huge shortage of female, large animal vets, enroll in veterinary school today!

And yes, you are a very sexual person.

Cowguy, LMNOP, MSG


Candy from Candy's Daily Dandy spelled out her dream for me...

"I used to dream all the time that my front teeth were falling out. I would shove them back up into my gums, but they kept falling back out.
It would cause me much stress and anguish."

Dear Candy, this may be a little hard for you to grasp, and possibly a little disturbing for you. Move back home to Arkansas. I think you know this in your heart of hearts. End the stress. End the anguish. Just go back home. Your cousins are all waiting for you hon. Don't bother taking your toothbrush. Okay? *pats you on the back*

You know this already, but... you are a very sexual person.



My little blogging friend Susan quipped this horror filled dream on Sawdust and Cowpies...

"Two nights ago I had a dream that the mayor was on my street corner giving his re-election speech.

No one came to watch him so I felt sorry for him and sat on the curb and clapped. All alone. He ignored me and kept reading from his ripped loose leaf paper speech.

My brother works on his campaign. Probably not a good sign??"

Sweet sweet Susan, this dream isn't as deeply rooted as one might first think. You need to see the M.D., That burning sensation... I really hate to say this out in the open like this, but... Well... you need to quit hanging quite so closely with the mayor. It's possible that... I'm so sorry... it might be the clap. Take 2 aspirins and call me in the morning.

Needless to say, you are a very sexual person.

Cowguy, BYOB, 123


Cora from Love Letters By Cora sent this bit of dream humor...

"Okay, I kid you not, I had a dream where I was on the Titanic. It was sinking (duh) and people were running and screaming and fighting over the life jackets. I wasn't sure which way to run but knew I needed to get moving and fast. I turned around and found myself face to face with Rowan Atkinson. Then Rowan grabbed me, stuck his face between my boobs and motorboated me. When he was done he turned around and ran off into the crowd and I woke up thinking WHAT THE HELL?!

I look forward to your analysis, Dr Cowgina!

Sometimes even someone as knowledged in dream research as I, Dr. Cowgina, hits a little bump in the road in being able to analyze a dream properly. Never the less, I'll try my hand at this.

You seem to be a very motorboatable little vixen. (forgive me Scope, just professional observations here.) You're easily entertained by rubber facing antics, such as Mr. Atkinson is so famous for, and as such, the motorboating that he could deliver would possibly be the most vigorous motorboating that a girl could hope to be performed up on her. The Titanic reference in your dream is merely the desire for him to sink his face... uh... right in there.

As everyone knows, you are a very sexual person.

Cowguy, DWF, DWI, DOD


Beth from Must Stamp Alot narrates her dream...

"My husband keeps having this recurring nightmare about working in an ammo reloading facility and getting his finger caught in a reloader machine.

Then there's this one when he was feeding hay to some old guys cows and the net wrap wrapped up in the drive shaft of the truck and caught on fire. I dont know the whole story though...every time he thinks about he gets traumatized!


Beth, that is no dream that needs interpretation. Those are merely things that happened in real life, and will possibly haunt him for the rest of his life. Make sure and tell Phil that I still laugh about them.

You are a very sexual person according to the stories around town.



My long time friend Vicky at LA Quilter relays to me this little tidbit of information about her dreams...

"The only dreams I can remember are the ones I wake up in a cold sweat because someone is chasing me. I'm trying to scream but nothing is coming out. Haven't had one of those in four years. Hmmmm....

Oh, I had one forever about a tornado coming. Guess my life isn't exciting enough."

Vicky, sweet Vicky. I hope this isn't too improper to relay in public, but the analysis of this dream is quite simple. If you hear, in the near future, someone yell "TITTY TWISTER!!!!".... Run. Run for your life, don't bother screaming cause as you know it ain't gonna help. Just run like the wind blows.

You are a very sexual person ma'am.

Cowguy, OBGYN, FBI


My good friend Jerry, who doesn't have a blog, but should have, tells me this...

"I dreamed that I was in my garden and the gate was open and some weird guy came in and started eating my corn, but he just took a bite and then ripped off another ear. I remember the beans were growing so fast I couldn't keep up with picking them but I wanted to break this weird guy's neck. The garden was blue. All blue. Oh, and Anne was yelling something but she was standing on top of the house. That's all I remember. I hope I didn't break Anne's neck in my sleep!!"

Jerry... my friend. All that acid back in the 60's? Yeah........ Groovy.

Seriously, I loved this dream/flashback. Anne on the roof (with her purse I'm sure) was my favorite part.

As the whole woodworking community knows, you are a very sexual person.



Cynthia from Cynthia: World-Renowned Author told me this...

"I'm driving through an outdoor flea market in an old, vintage, Ford pick-up. My ex-husband (MUCH handsomer than the real version---maybe even with hair on his head---minus the comb-over) gets in and wants to drive...."

Cynthia, sport... It's time to trade in the old Ford truck, possibly for a new sportier version... LIKE THAT ASS YOUR EX HUSBAND DID WHEN HE STARTED HANGING OUT WITH CHEAP WHORES!!! BTW I saw your ex on I feel your pain.

Though your ex didn't realize it, you're a very sexual person.



That girl ~E at *E* Deconstructed penned this onto my blog...

"I'm going to a Seahawks game with a buddy of mine, but before I go I want to take a shower first. The shower stall is like one in a gym but with no doors and no I shower but constantly freaking out that someone is gonna walk in and spot me. Finally I finish, and walk out of the shower and all of a sudden I'm a guest at the Oprah show. I'm a figure skater and she has the set all fixed up for me...complete with mini ice rink right in the middle of all the audience members and a crapton of fake fall leaves spread out all over. And I'm throwing a tantrum (at OPRAH) because I can't skate with all these leaves around. I storm out of her building and run smack into a crazy environmentalist lady in front of a huge decrepit, run down house. And she is complaining to me how Oprah should have used real leaves from the ground and not fake ones. Because the fake ones will clog the environment."

Other than telling you that Oprah is Satan, I can't tell you much from what you've given me. I'll be needing pictures of you in the shower to further discern what this dream means. My email address is available from my profile. Okay? Okay.

You are an awesomely sexual person.

Cowguy, ѬѰӤ, ٕۓὧ,₱ᶲټ


Char, who loves my blog to smithereenies, as you all should... has a blog called CharsToday and tells me this bit of bizzarity...

"I am in a long building and am carrying a 'fickle finger of fate' award (you know, from Laugh In). I come inside the door and the space is so long its like looking into a tunnel and people are at the other end look as though they are miles away. I ask what I am supposed to do. They tell me to go to the other end and show them the award and they would know what to do. I do this and they opened fire with tommy guns and I grab my stomach and feel warm blood rising up and awake when it reaches the back of my throat, I wake up."

Although a bit complicated for me to put into laymans terms, this analysis is simple. You regret not being a Go-Go dancer. You should pursue that career now. If you need help choosing a performers name for your act, please contact me. Those services are available from me as well.

You are a very sexual person.

Cowguy, ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX


And finally Gwen at Everything I Like Causes Cancer, and being a late bloomer in posting dreams but definitely not a late bloomer according to the Jr. High Football squad, sneaks in this gem....

"I don't generally remember my dreams but the night after you analyzed your own dream, I had a dream about you. I'm serious. All I can remember was that I was visiting you and I was trying really hard not to be a prissy girl about dirt and bugs and farm stuff because I wanted you to like me.

I'm a very sexual person"

Gwen, you're a dirty girl. It's okay. Grasp the concept. Run with it. I like you.

As you already know, you're a very sexual person.

Cowguy, Fresh Out Of Degrees


Thanks everyone for playing along... what fun!


Thursday, October 22, 2009

Dream Analysis 101

Well... my last blog post I told you if you posted me your latest dream, I... Cowguy, with my cowgina prowness, would anal-yze your mindful meanderings in slumber land.

You overwhelmed me. I think I'll go at this in 2 hitches. Please bear in mind that my findings are not the "end all" of your dream interpretations. But I AM dang smart and I've got a BHD, STD and BBQ in this field so.... here we go!

MrsCravitz is up first with her dream posting...

"Anyway, the last dream I had that I remember, was, I was in the mountains, at this cabin place that was mine, but in real life I did not really live there. Some of my best friends were in the dream, and at the very end, I saw my mother, of whom has been gone for 9 years now. There is a lot more detail, but I won't bore you with the color of the trees, or house or flowers. Yes, I get very detailed in my dreams."

MrsCravitz, a common mistake by dream relayers to the dream analyzer is lack of detail. I need details details details in order to properly surmise what this dream of yours means in totality. With the sparse amount of information though, I can give you this. You have what us cowgina experts like to call the "Grizzly Adams" syndrome. You're fixated on cabins, mountains, most likely wild animals and stuff. Your friends there in your dream are representative of the many many MANY boyfriends you've had in your life that have broken your heart. If the dream had lasted another minute, no doubt Grizzly Adams would have appeared and shot them all. Your mom (God rest her soul) in your dream was just there to watch the carnage that never happened. You're a very sexual person.

Thank you.

My next dream analysis guest is Mo Mad Dog Stoneskin... his dream is as follows...

"I'm at MacDonald's with my mate Andy. We're being served and at the front of the queue to our left are two attractive blond girls, identical twins in fact.

As they pay I lean across and display my usual razor-sharp wit. 'You'd think they would offer a special deal for twins, a crazy 'two-for-one' deal wouldn't you?' I joked.

Behind us in the queue were three lads, identical triplets in fact. They caused quite a fuss, accused us of discriminating against those formed from a divided egg or whatever.

The rest of the dream was essentially Andy and I running away from the triplets."

Mo, dear Mo. The guilt you are carrying around from your 5 times a day visits to McDonalds are tearing you apart. It's true. Stop it right now! The clever repartee with the twins was nothing more than a replay of the real life, completely conscious act of sleeping with hookers. Not that that's wrong, but it's coming back to haunt you man. The triplets represent the children you have fathered but not owned up to. Yes... run man, run. Run for your life!!!

You are a very sexual person.

Thank you,

Next JenJen wrote...

"I dreamt that I was in a school building and there were shoes on the other side of the door but I couldn't figure out how to get in that room."

JenJen, be honest with yourself. You know what this dream means. I myself rode the short bus as a youngster. I know the pain that you feel from that experience as well. Not being able to figure out how to get your shoes on the other side of the door? You and I both know being the slow kid isn't always a circus. Don't we?

You are a very sexual person.

Thank you,

Staceyjwarner put her dream to paper, or to puter as the case may be here...

"I had a dream that me and this Clint Eastwood type character were sleeping outside near a river. He washed in the stream. It had the feel of a film from the 70's. I was cold so he gave me his t-shirt to wear. It smelled of him. It was old. This guy wasn't homeless. He chose to live this way by the stream fed by melting snow caps...I was in love with him but later in the dream he would push me emotionally away, although it was no longer me."

StaceyJ, you know as well as I that that is ME in your dream. STOP STALKING ME!!! I can't take the pressure anymore. I'm a married man. Yes I exude that cool Clint Eastwood persona, yes I smell of man, but you can't love me. Please, just stop before hearts are broken!!

You are a very sexual person.


Ahr8tch wrote...

"I had just moved into the area and there was a local issue vote.

When I tried to vote they told me I couldn't because they weren't sure which way I'd vote. They told the guy ahead of me in line he couldn't vote because they knew he'd vote against the issue.

I raised a little hell and they called the local cop.

Suddenly I realized that it was just a power grab by the local politicos.

I shot everybody but the guy in line ahead of me and went back to sleep."

Dear Ahr8tch, I have no clue wtf this dream means but... what an awesome ending!!! Freakin A!!

You are a very sexual person.

Thank you,

And finally for the last one of todays analysis' we've got Sass

Here's Sass' little dream...

"I dreamed that I was driving, and Barack Obama was in the passenger seat. My husband was in the back. Next thing I know, Obama slips his hand inside my bra.

My husband laughed, smiled, and THAT'S an elected official.

I then had a sit-down with michelle obama, who was white. And she told me it was okay, that he does it all the time.

Then I was given a secret entrance into the white house, where I just had to crawl over the blue filing cabinet, past the trash cans, and into the "big office."

Dear Sass.....

You are a very sexual person.

Thank you,

Stay tuned for the next post where I finish up this highly professional dream analysis! Thanks for the participation and letting me show off some of my little known skills in this field!


Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Let ME Analyze Your Dream

I don't dream much... or if I do, I don't remember 'em. I've always been kinda envious of my wife Sal's ability to wake up, tell me in detail (usually bizarre detail) her dream.

I woke up a couple of mornings ago in a panic. That little bit of confusion where you're trying to decipher if that was a dream or if that was real, and then the nice soft comfort when you realize it was just a dream. That's a pretty cool feeling in and of itself. Anyhow... in my dream I walked into my shop, which was all different and in a different location, actually at a place that I lived about 13 years ago, and my tools were all gone. Not only my tools, but EVERYTHING. Someone had stolen every last item in my shop except..... a white washer and dryer combo.

No I do not have a washer/dryer in my shop in real life. Only in my dreams (wistfully!)

Also there was a lot of Latino style graffiti spray painted on my walls. I dunno... if it were Amish graffiti, I'd kinda understand it, 'cause we're crawling with Amish folks 'round here. Latinos? We're a little short on 'em. There's Jose at the mexican restaurant in town, but Jose likes me and wouldn't graffiti up my walls. That's 'bout it.

As I lay in bed I tried to figure out what the meaning of this dream was, and finally was able to decipher it. The missing tools mean that I take what I have for granted and the washer dryer combo showing up just means that I need to clean my shop and quit taking things for granted (once again) and the graffiti means that I need to go see Jose and order the Pollo Bandido.

Now I'm no doctor, no degree in psychiatry, my education... oh Lord. BUT I have had my arm up a cow's vagina (cowgina) on numerous occasions, fetching out calves, so THAT should give me some credibility (although I don't know why. I really just wanted to weave the word "cowgina" into my blog post). Here's what I want you to do...

Your most recent dream you've had (not the dirty ones, unless it involves me), post it down in the comments. I'll pick a few and do my best to analyze 'em for you and kinda set your mind at ease as far as dreaming goes. Okay? Okay.

Dang, I'm kinda proud of that little Photochoppery montage!!


Thursday, October 15, 2009

My Dad Just Called. The Bub Is Burned Out.

I'm leaning on the cabinet in front of the coffee pot this morning and the phone rings. It's my Dad. As you regular readers remember my Dad is 82, sharp as a tack and I love screwing with him.

Dad... You awake?

Me... Yup. What's up?

Dad... I need you to come up here and put a new light bub in the bathroom for us.

Okay, now what everyone else on earth calls a "light bulb"... you'll find a good portion of Missouri Rednecks pronounce it "light bub". Missouri grammar lesson is over.

Me... What? (I'm preparing him by warming up to this just a bit)

Dad... I need you to put a new light bub in the bathroom for us. It burned out last night.

Me... Light bub?

Dad... Yes. In the bathroom.

Me... What?


Me... Bub in the bathroom?

Dad... Can you hear me at all?

Now I'm getting him all fired up 'cause his phone frustration level starts AND ends at about 2 on a scale of 1 to 10. He hates phones that don't work perfectly. His cell phone frustrates him like trying to jog in sweatpants 3 sizes to big... just running and fighting the crotch and not getting anywhere. Dad fights the phone.

Me... Yeah I think so. Your bathroom is something or another.

Dad... (dad holding the phone away from his face to tell my mother) I DON'T KNOW. (Mom saying something to dad) I AM TELLING HIM ABOUT THE BUB THAT'S BURNED OUT!!!

Dad... okay, so when are you coming up here?

Me... Do I need to bring wrenches?

Dad... What???

Me... For the bathroom.


Me... (laughing uncontrollably now) Yeah.. you need a new bub in the bathroom.

Dad... There really is something wrong with you. Good bye!

So, I'm gonna head up there and do.... well ... you know.


Monday, October 12, 2009

Craption It Monday

Just do this for me... make my life simple, happy, carefree and relatively odorless.

Thank you in advance for your lovely craption of this picture.

Here I doctored this one up for you as sort of a Thank You gift for your craptioning efforts. Please, please. Enjoy. Forward it on to your mother, she'll love it!


Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Thing I Found Shot Dead In My Yard.

We are rednecks. Lotsa stuff gets shot up around here, and dang it... we take pride in it. We're very rural (I can see my nearest neighbors house most of the time, but it's half a mile away)and we've got a large yard surrounded by empty fields on all 4 sides so if anyone takes a hankerin' to go shoot holes in something... it's a short trip to the range. :-) When our 24 year old son Jake is home there's even more shootin' taking place, with the help of several of his buddies a good bit of lead is flung around.

I've picked up some pretty odd things that were chosen targets, but none odder than this one. I don't know the story with this, I just found it. Dead. No amount of surgery will bring it back to life. Kablam! "Hello death!"

Now understand, we're not a sports oriented family. We don't watch 'em on tv. We don't attend them with 1000's of other people. We don't listen to 'em on the radio. We don't read about 'em in the paper. I found out that the baseball playoffs were happening right now because they were on in a friends house last night.

As far as I know, there has never been a football on the place... until now. And it's dead.

Did someone haul it outta their car by mistake, while here at our place... and the guys showing their displeasure, just shoot the living shit out of it? Perhaps someone traveling down the road in front of our place sailed it out of a window, teaching someone a lesson. Or maybe it was just sailing thru the air for miles and miles and miles and the boys shot it outta their airspace... just because.

I don't know. But it looks to have been a decent football at one point. Before being shot to death. And even though I have no interest in sports, I'm still touched a bit just by the visual carnage and I feel I have to name it.

"Someone wins... someone loses"

I added this a couple of weeks ago, "your your intermittently rotated video of abundant wtf". Click on the 3 headed sheep chair on the right sidebar once in awhile. You can't get high class entertainment selections like this at the 7-11.


Monday, October 5, 2009

Guitars Cadillacs And Hillbilly Music

A couple of weekends ago we spent a nice looong weekend at Bloomfield, Iowa at a music festival up there. I believe up until this year it's always been called a "Bluegrass" festival and this year was just called Bloomfield Music Festival. Anyhow Sal I went up and camped out with few thousand other folks... I don't know how many for sure but they had 500 camping units (rv's, campers etc) registered, plus tents everywhere.

Our band Keota doesn't quite fit the Bluegrass groove, our style of music is... different. ;-) It falls into the genre of Americana music. We play a few traditional bluegrass tunes, but more Country, some classic rock songs and blues. At any rate, the old hardcore bluegrass folks sometimes can be a little snooty when you wheel out a tune that you ain't singing through your nose. We worry 'bout that for 'bout 15 seconds and then just play what we want and have a blast.

We sat up playing on Friday night until 2 am and called it quits at 3 am Sunday morning. Pretty much non stop music. We played with some very gifted musicians, had one little gal that stopped by our camp and wanted to sing for us... and she could totally wail. If you take off walking in any direction in the campgrounds at night you'll find musicians set up and playing. Other musicians wandering around with a guitar or a banjo or a fiddle in their hands looking for a new group to play with. It's truly magical. People that look like they couldn't play a lick just totally blow you away with their talents.

We played on the flatbed trailer stage (LOL) one evening and drew in a real nice crowd. We figured that the crowd would either sit there and wonder "what the hell is this?" or we'd keep 'em busy enough that they'd love us.

They loved us. :-)

Here's a bunch of pictures from the weekend. Musicians, old timers, young people, one grandma that Sally caught doing the Hula Hoop in the campground when she thought no one was watching and... Kevin and his rooster. Yes, there are characters everywhere at one of these things. lol

I got you a video at the very end of us doing Wagon Wheel. Martina didn't make it up there with us and we missed her on the harmonies, but we managed to have fun without her. :-) (XO Martina lol)

Our CD is available over to the right there on my sidebar. Order up if you haven't already. It's a doozy! We'll have you smiling, I promise!

This was our little hacienda... complete with a genuine oil painting procured at a yard sale by Mary Beth, while were there for $2. People stopping by kept looking at it but must have felt odd asking why we had a German Victorian oil painting of jealous lovers hanging under our awning. Seemed normal to us. We had LOTS of Christmas lights too! Looked great at night!

And finally the video. If the embedding doesn't work (as it does sometimes on blogger) just click the link here.


Friday, October 2, 2009


So this is how Monday went. I was sorta putting off actually writing this, sorta waiting for the next shoe to drop. It hasn't, and here goes.

I'd went up to the farm to do chores and thought I'd run a few tanks of gas through the chainsaw as long as I was up there, cut a little firewood you know. Now I'd just came from my folk's house (Mom is 77 Dad is 82) where they needed me to hook a phone up for 'em, so they knew I was in the woods.

I sawed down a pretty big red oak that I'd been eyeballing, bout a 30-32 inch diameter tree and started trimming it up to cut the firewood out. What I did'nt see was the 4" live hickory tree that the top had fell on, doubling it over into a "U" shape and throwing a few thousand pounds of torque on the largish limb I had just sank my chainsaw into.

With the pressure of the hickory on the limb, it pinched my chainsaw in the kerf I was cutting... and how. It was really big time hung. I can't remember the last time this happened. So anyhow, knowing my Dad was just languishing around the house when I'd left there I thought I'd just call him to bring me his chainsaw so I could cut mine outta the limb. I was only 'bout a mile and a half from their house.

Me... *phone ringing*

Mom... Hello

Me... Hey Mom is Dad there?

Mom... No, he's gone. What do you want?

Me... Nothing, never mind.

Mom... Are you hurt?? (I get this a lot)

Me... No, I'm fine. Bye Mom.

Mom... Well what do you want? (mostly this is just because she wants to have a conversation)

Me... I've got my saw stuck and if Dad was there I was gonna see if he'd run his saw over here.

Mom... What do you mean it's stuck? How do you get a saw stuck?

Me... never mind mom.

Mom... I can bring you the saw. (Now Mom has quit driving, and for good reason. She falls quite and bit and when she's not falling she's refusing to use her cane because it makes her "look old". The rest of the time she just stands and teeters, almost ready to fall.)

Me... yeah Mom. Get the saw, gas it up for me. Get it warmed up if you would, then just run it over here.

Mom... *giggling* Smart ass.

Mom... Your Dad has his cell phone with him for a change. Call him. He's probably just outside or something.

Me... *phone ringing*

Dad... Hello?

Me... Hey Dad, where are you?

Dad... I'm way down here by your house. I saw smoke and wanted to see where the fire was. Big big fire on the conservation property.

Me... *sigh* Okay, well enjoy the fire.

Dad... What do you want? Are you hurt? (again I get this)

Me... No, my saw is stuck, I thought if you were close by you could bring me your saw.

Dad... (this is like asking a 10 year old boy to borrow his pocketknife. He is thrilled that I want to use his chainsaw) I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!!! (and he hangs up on me just like * that.)

About 30 minutes later (I coulda went and got his saw 10 times by now... myself)Dad shows up in his truck, in the woods, with his chainsaw. His saw is 3 years old but has never been used. He got a notion he needed a new chainsaw, went and got one, and then it was too hard for him to pull the rope... so there it is.

Me... Does it have gas in it?

Dad... Yeah, it's full. It's been in there for 3 years, *my eyes get big* but I put that stuff in there that Paul Harvey says keeps your gas fresh.

Me... Dad, did you know Paul Harvey is dead?

Dad... Yes Jace. I know Paul Harvey is dead.

And I start yanking on the rope... and yanking and yanking and yanking. FINALLY it starts but will only run at half throttle. I shut off and take the gas cap off.

Dad... It still smells okay (the gas) doesn't it?

Me... It smells like varnish Dad. Paul Harvey has let you down.

Dad... I don't think it's the gas Jace, I think the carb needs adjusted.

Me... Dad... it's the damned gas. It's rotten. Trust me. *as I pour it out on the ground.

Dad... I can't believe you just wasted that gas.

Me... *just staring at my Dad*

I fill the saw up with my gas, start it up and in about 1 minute it's running like it should. I start cutting away some limbs, mostly scared to death that I'm gonna cut the wrong thing and get my arm or leg busted or my punkin smashed with a spring loaded limb. I'm going back and forth from one side of the humongous tree to the other, cutting a little each time.

At this point Dad has retrieved his 5 gallon bucket from the back of his truck and perched himself on his throne and is watching me. I can see his lips moving and him pointing and motioning, giving me advice... but I'm just going about my business. Finally he starts waving his arms like he's signaling a plane to land on the deck of an aircraft carrier... and I shut the saw off.

Dad... You're gonna have to cut a block out to get your saw out Jace.

Me... Can you even see what I've got going on?

Dad... Well your saw is pinched...

I pull back a limb that I've already cut off, exposing the doubled over Hickory tree.

Dad... Shitfire Jace!!!! That's dangerous. You better be careful in.... (and I restarted the saw)

Finally I got my saw out without killing myself or busting arms and stuff. I took Dad's saw back to Dad's truck.

Dad... Boy I'm sure glad you got my saw running. I guess that Paul Harvey stuff ain't as good as he says it is.

Me... "said" it is...

Dad... Huh?

Me... Said. He's dead.

Dad... That's what I hear.

Dad picks up his throne, tosses it in the back of his truck and gets in.

Dad... Well, you need anything else?

Me... Nope. That's bout it.

So, what started out to be a simple little thing, turned all inside out. I spent most of the afternoon doing something that I was gonna just spend a couple of hours at, and then go home.

That's usually the way it goes for me though. lol

Oh, OH and I've got poison ivy all over both arms. Completely. It's making me insane(r). It just adds to the memory.