Brady’s Blog

here we go again..

lately it seems like someone in the family is always sick or hurt..

if it’s not a lego in a nose or a cracked head, it’s wasp stings or sunburn..

always something..

this time it was mrs. cracker herself on the breakdown trailer..

all started about 10 days ago..

she’d had a mongo earache for a few days - swimmer’s ear progressing into widespread infection, swelling, etc..

there was some fear of mastoiditis but we dodged that..

she had been to the dr. who gave her some drops which did no good..

then she went to the E.R., then to a clinic, and back to the E.R. as the symptoms became more alarming (swelling, pain, hearing loss) and the week turned into the weekend..

if you ever get a little cocky and start feeling like you have control over your own life and can pretty much get what you want when you please from whomever, just stroll on down to your local emergency room and sign up for some treatment..

good times..

i’m sure it’ll be a pretty sweet bill, too..

of course, it’s really pretty cheap if you just tell yourself you’re paying by the hour..

we got to spend a full five hours enjoying our stay - free tv, free ice..

and plenty of “at least i don’t have what that person has” people around to make you feel better..

i’m pretty sure mrs. cracker missed it, but the highlight of my time at the E.R. came courtesy of one of our fellow patients..

i don’t know what he was in for but i did here him say he was out of work..

that translates into “whatever is ailing me, i pretty much have to go to the E.R. where they can’t refuse treatment and i don’t have to ever actually pay for it..”

anyway, i happened to look up just as this guy took a big dip of skoal and tucked in into his bottom front lip..

that’s always a pretty nasty thing to witness, and if mrs. cracker had seen it, she might well have had an upset stomach to go with her earache..

but that wasn’t the good part..

the good part was when they called his name about 20 minutes later and he had to get up and go see the doc..

instead of just spitting the skoal into the trash or something, he swiped it out of his lip and back into the can to save it for later..

just a lovely thing to behold..

waste not want not i guess..

mrs. cracker is fine, by the way..

her hearing is restored and the pain is pretty much gone..

she is once again able to hear exactly what she wants to hear and nothing else..

well i didn’t really get a very long run in this morning..

as it turns out, the whole wild boar thing was not just idle chatter..

as a result, my usual 4 or 5 mile run was reduced to about 140 yards..

that’s 70 yards down the driveway to where a pig snorted really loudly in the woods not too far from me, and then 70 yards straight back to the building on a dead sprint..

i had no idea i had a terrible fear of pigs.. but i do..

we counted 18 total when they came out in the open a little..

not all of them were big, but there were at least a couple of them that i would not have wanted coming at me in the dark..

we’re going to go out again tomorrow morning and see if we can get some pictures of them..

sitting here now after 12 hours of construction work in the texas heat, i’m kind of glad i didn’t get a longer run in..

i should mention we have had one emergency room visit so far on this mission trip..

you’re thinking:

nail gun?

fall from roof?

encounter with a saw?

wrong..

wrestling..

we had one split his head open on the corner of a bed during a late night wrestling match last night..

so that was fun..

could have been worse..

could have been a wild boar attack..

we’re in texas with the “ute group” this weekend..

word to the wise.. it’s kinda hot in texas this time of year..

we’re just outside of lindale, tx..

down here building a cabin for ywam..

so far everyone is safe and hydrated - hopefully we’ll still be that way at this time tomorrow..

tomorrow is saturday which is a run day for me..

so at 5:30 tomorrow morning i’ll be running down a dark, unfamiliar, country road in a part of texas where the wild boar population is supposedly substantial and a little too familiar with humans.. i’m seriously considering running with a knife..

or maybe a pair of scissors.. that’s supposed to be a good idea i think..

right now the youth group is having some good bonding time..

two or three of them are trying to teach the others how to play texas hold ‘em..

you’ve seen those bracelets that say “WWJD”..

stands for “what would jesus do?”..

i think i’ll get some bracelets made for our new poker tournament/youth group kids..

“HMWJB”

yes..

that’s “how much would jesus bet?”

yesterday, i mentioned the rent house in hollister..

it was a good house..

it was pretty big and had a ceiling fan - we really liked that..

we just about froze a couple of times when i forgot to have the propane tank filled..

we didn’t have kids then so it would have just been us two that died.. no big deal..

and i punched a hole in the wall in anger after dropping our hamburgers coming in from the grill..

but other than that, we have pretty good memories of the place.. it was a pretty good house..

well..

there was country..

that’s what he called himself..

country was a guy who lived in a little one room building out behind our house..

i have no idea what his real name was..

he somehow knew the lady who owned the place and she decided to rent it out to him - i don’t remember if we had a say in the matter but i’m guessing we didn’t..

country turned out to be a complete and utter weirdo, of course..

i have no doubt he named himself country - i don’t think anyone else would have ever honored him with a nickname..

i think he was harmless enough though mrs. cracker often worried for our dog.. especially after the story below took place..

he worked at this little really good little mexican restaurant in downtown branson that i’m pretty sure is now buried somewhere under this..

mrs. cracker and the girls from her office went in there for lunch quite often..

one day the girls under tipped him or stiffed him completely.. i don’t remember which..

not a big surprise since he was one of the worst waiters of all time..

that evening, while i was waiting tables at my own place of employment, country decided to take up the matter with mrs. cracker..

not the worst idea ever, but not a great one..

she answered the door and he proceeded to angrily discuss the matter of that day’s lunch tip..

she shooed him away and called me..

the restaurant where i worked wasn’t far from our house so i think i came straight home but i may have waited until after my shift..

it wasn’t as bad as the air show incident, but we had a rather frank and one sided conversation wherein i put forth my plan of action regarding his safety and well being should he ever again decide to confront my wife outside of my presence..

he was very apologetic and i don’t think we ever had much trouble out of him after that..

man..

i sure miss that pepper belly’s place..

i am starving..

we were living in a rent house in hollister, mo (right next to branson)..

we started looking around thinking we might try to buy an older home that needed some work and fix it up..

mrs. cracker somehow heard about this house that was being foreclosed on - small ranch style.. decent neighborhood.. in need of some repair..

we soon found out the only “repair” that would make much sense in this case would have to be performed by a bulldozer or a match..

i’ll try to describe our tour of this lovely home using just enough detail to convey the experience without making you puke like mrs. cracker did..

i think we went in through the front door - no need for a realtor lock on this one - and the smell was like a living, breathing animal coming at us - not waiting around to be discovered but charging us like a king gorilla establishing his territory..

we soon found what i wish i could tell you was the main source of the odor..

it was a package of some kind of meat, rotten and bloated in the plastic, sitting in the sink - as though someone had found the task of putting some hamburgers together so daunting that he or she had decided to just move out instead, leaving the meat there to spoil to a black, rancid mess..

there was trash everywhere - not just small stuff like papers, books, toys, etc - but larger things too..

stuff that really could only be described as debris - a broken, upside down piano, tons of bicycle parts, mattresses, old, broken furniture, tons of unrecognizable junk..

just junk..

everywhere..

holes in the floor, holes in the walls, holes in the ceiling..

and yet, i remember thinking “ya know, it would take a month to throw everything away but there’s really nothing wrong here that can’t be righted”..

i said as much to mrs. cracker..

being what my father would call a “pioneer woman”, she agreed..

and then..

we found the real source of the stench..

the bathroom..

or what was left of it..

what was left of it was essentially a big pile of used toilet paper..

the toilet was still there but hard to recognize..

most toilets aren’t brown.. i guess that would be considered a rather inappropriate color for a toilet..

inside the toilet where there should be a nice bowl full of clear water, there was a nice big clump of what looked like (and i guess technically was) brown paper mache..

carbon dating would probably have proven this pile of used paper to be the oldest - logic would dictate that the inhabitants filled the toilet up before they started discarding into the bath tub..

that’s right, the bath tub..

no big deal.. not like they were using it for baths..

the tub was about a third full with potty mache, in a nice big bell curve shaped mound going up to the water spout on the end nearest the toilet..

it took mrs. cracker a couple of minutes to realize exactly what she was seeing (and smelling)..

but once it hit her, it only took her about 15 seconds to run out and dump her lunch on the front lawn..

i thought maybe that was her way of saying “i really want to live here”..

turns out that was her way of saying “did i just see a giant pile of people poo in there?”

we decided to pass on the place..

oh dear, dear lady..

how can i explain this to you..

if your name is spelled tijuana, it’s not pronounced “twana”..

it’s tijuana..

and yes, there is a town in mexico by that name..

and yes dear, you are named after that town..

and no dear, there are not a lot of happy reasons to be named after that town..

and all the mispronunciation in the world can’t change that one simple truth..

haven’t you ever seen joe dirt?

like most organizations, ours has had some jim-dandy sales people from time to time..

we’ve had the young guy in a suit worth more than his next 20 commission checks..

we’ve had the older, hipster dufus in hawaiin shirt and sandals..

we’ve had a couple of slicksters - the “hey there!! how you doin?!!” finger snap and point at you type..

it seems like the big guys are the real troublesome ones..

they’re the ones who tend to give away the store or really mess stuff up and make more work for everyone..

we were talking about one of these guys today..

a guy named nathan..

great big guy - 6.3 or so.. heavy..

man.. what a jerk..

nathan was the kind of guy who would lie just to lie - often about things that really didn’t matter in the first place..

whatever course the conversation might take, nathan would find a way to be the chart topper in every instance..

if you talked about baseball, he used to be the best baseball player ever..

if you talked about the stock market, he had made the most money the fastest..

if you talked about a movie, he knew the director..

most people let this kind of stuff go, of course..

it doesn’t matter, after all..

and in most cases, you couldn’t possibly prove or disprove the case..

and most people wouldn’t want to challenge him on anything for the sole purpose of humiliating him..

most people wouldn’t..

one time there were a bunch of us from work eating lunch at a pizza place..

one of the girls asked nathan if he had any business cards with him since they were headed to a meeting after lunch and she had no business cards..

nathan: “oh yeah.. of course i have.. i make it a point to never have less than 30 business cards with me at all times.. it’s like a rule with me..”

cracker: “really?”

nathan: “yep.. always..”

cracker: “30?”

nathan: “yeah.. at least.. always..”

cracker: “sounds like a lot..”

nathan: “never know when you’ll need ‘em..”

cracker: “well.. let’s see ‘em then..”

nathan: “huh?”

cracker: “let’s see them nathan.. the 30 business cards.. let’s count them up.. because this kind of sounds like a number you pulled out of your butt just to make yourself sound important.. i’m guessing you have about 8.. not that you would ever b.s. us about anything..”

nathan: “uh.. um.. ok.. let’s see..”

nervousness around the table as he brings out his wallet and starts going through pockets..

to his credit, i think he had about 13 or 14 cards - 6 or 7 in the wallet and a few in his pockets.. i was actually pretty impressed..

cracker: “wow.. that’s a lot of business cards.. why wouldn’t you just tell us that you always try to have a lot of business cards on hand?”

nathan: “i almost always have at least 30.. i had that deal yesterday where i handed a bunch out..”

cracker: “whatever..”
——————————–

interesting side note on nathan..

he’s the question to the office jeopardy answer “someone once got fired for throwing playdoh at this salesperson..”

let’s see alex..

who is nathan?

but that’s a different story..

here’s one i’ve been hearing a lot lately..

davis: “daddy, will you do an experiment with me?”

davis knows about a million different experiments you can perform - all using common household items..

for instance, you can mix vinegar and baking soda with a little bit of water..

or.. you can mix vinegar and baking soda with some soap..

or.. you can mix vinegar and baking soda with barbecue sauce..

or.. you could mix baking soda with some vinegar and put it some salt..

that’s the experiment..

every time..

vinegar and baking soda..

and i have to admit, it’s a pretty great experiment - because every single time - wait..

WARNING - SPOILER ALERT
(didn’t want to ruin it for you)

it bubbles..

every time.. like crazy.. bubbles everywhere..

and davis just loves it..

yesterday i tried some new experiments with him..

well.. ok.. bar tricks - but bar tricks are very similar to experiments..

we did a couple of the “candle goes out and creates vacuum variety”..

and a couple of static tricks with a balloon..

they went off perfectly and provided a great learning experience for everyone..

and davis of course hated every second of it because nothing bubbled like a real experiment should bubble..

i could have whipped out some nuclear physics on him and still failed to impress..

cracker: “hey look davis, i just split an atom with a butter knife!!”

davis: “i see that.. good.. can we put some vinegar and baking soda on it?”

i usually eat standing up..

unless i’m sitting in a restaurant or forced into some other sit-down situation, i prefer to “graze”..

if the situation is casual enough, i’ll even go so far as to avoid making a plate at all..

instead i’ll just wander from item to item, grabbing a handful of this and a handful of that..

i like to think this is a habit born of so many years in the restaurant business where this kind of steady foraging is standard operating procedure..

but i think it may be a simple mix of gluttony and impatience that brings about this behavior - why spend all that time putting everything on a plate when i’m just going to take it back off the plate and put it in my mouth..

i’m just cutting out the middle man, the plate..

and really, in many cases i’m cutting out two middle men because if i make a plate and sit down to eat i’ll probably end up using some kind of utensil like a fork or a spoon..

in which case, the food is going from a pot or serving dish to a serving spoon or other utensil, then on to a plate, then back to a utensil - and finally reaching the intended final destination only after being shifted from town to town like some poor refugee..

what a waste of time and energy that is..

it’s just not right..

i say pick it up and eat it..

i won’t pretend to believe what you’re about to read is in any way original or clever..

i doubt i’m the first one to cover the subject..

but nobody ever made themselves a famous comedic genius by cultivating new, innovative material..

ok.. maybe they did.. but anyway..

does anyone know of a good way to determine if someone riding in one of the handicapped scooters at walmart is actually disabled in some way or simply lazy?

i’ve tried just tossing people out of the things but that seems to anger folks and the lazy ones are just as likely to lie there motionless as are the disabled..

i’m sure you’ve seen these people..

they walk in the front door of walmart and sit down in a scooter and cruise around the place..

i’ve never looked, but i can only assume they’re filling that cart with lots of fruits and vegetables and excercise equipment..

i’d really like to confront them - say something like “get off your duff and walk around walmart like the rest of us”..

but the thought of hordes of enormous, leather-clad scooter gangsters roaming the isles with retribution on their minds always stops me..

stops me every time..