Your Lion Eyes, Or A Horse Is A Corpse Of Course Of Course

This just in: Cecil the lion and Barbaro the non-lion horse just met in animal heaven and talked things over.  The meeting was amicable but short because lions and horses don’t share a common language, unlike dolphins and woodchucks of course.  After using the obvious choice of a swan as an interpreter, both Cecil and Barbaro realized that humanity is very strange indeed.

 

Then Cecil ate Barbaro.  Oh, cruel fate!  Fortunately the fake outrage in animal heaven is quite loud right now.

 

Why are you still reading this?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen Years After Freedom

          Fifteen years ago this week, I was sitting in my bedroom upstairs reading a compendium of every Sherlock Holmes story that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had written.  I had picked up the volume from Barnes and Noble during one of my “Well, this is famous, guess I had better read it to find out why” moments that occur semi-frequently.  This would explain the eclectic library that I own which makes any sort of cataloguing a nightmare to anyone outside of my dented psyche. 
 

I was turned on to Holmes at a young age due to Gene Wilder’s comedic homage in The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother.  The Granada TV series that starred Jeremy Brett as Sherlock then turned out to be a revelation.  Quite a career-defining role for Brett and those series definitely set the bar quite high when it comes to any other Holmes adaptations.  Then my brother encouraged me to actually read the stories, which is what I was doing at that moment. 

 

            Nearing the end of the book, I knew I would finish it that night.  It truly had been quite a journey that I had taken with Mr. Holmes.  From a sign of four to demon hounds to a death by waterfall to a resurrection to a solitary cyclist, a drawing of dancing men, and Bruce Partington’s submersible plans, it had been quite a ride.  And soon it would be over with just another turn of the page.  As I reached the end of the story, I heard from downstairs that it finally happened: my mother had passed away.

 

            My mother had been fighting what started out as ovarian cancer for close to three years at that point.  She had been through the surgeries and the chemotherapy.  Everything seemed to work and in fact her count had showed remission.  However the cancer then came back.  Her count spiked up.  Another round of chemotherapy.  Her oncologist said that the chemo wasn’t working the second time through and this was just delaying the inevitable.  Then she made the decision to leave, have hospice care, and barring some miraculous event, pass away at home.

 

            I never viewed it as giving up the fight or some other such nonsense definition.  She and my father had been through so much already in battling this disease.  If nothing else, my mother had amazing willpower and had endured horrendous treatments in trying to beat back cancer.  I think she just reached a point of acceptance with her situation.  I also believe that it gave her two months to not focus on the disease, but rather to focus on her faith in and to demonstrate that faith to others.

 

            Leaving the hospital for the last time with her is burned in my memory.  It was just the two of us taking that short trip together.  My mother looked out the window of the car as we drove along.  I don’t remember us talking about anything.  I do remember just the look on her face as we passed familiar landmarks that she knew she would never see again.  The look she had was one of quiet peace with just a tinge of sadness.  Thinking back on it now, I’m just amazed that my 21 year-old self managed to keep it together as well as I did.  I’m more amazed at how my mother kept everything together.

 

            I don’t know how one without faith would handle knowing that you are going home to die.  What horrors those people must go through.  Even having faith, it must be quite the trial.  Yet I remember my mother showing not false bravery, but resignation and confidence.  I have often said in the past, that I pray that I have just a modicum of the faith that my mother displayed during that time.

 

            My mother never met my wife and never had a chance to treat her like the daughter she never had.  My mother never met my children and never had the experience of being a grandma.  They will only know of her via pictures and home movies, which isn’t much of a connection at all.  Even my memories have started to fade since so much time has passed since she died.  It is also hard to remember a time when she wasn’t sick.  But since writing this, certain thoughts pop into my mind.

 

            I will always have an affinity for movies thanks to my mother.  Some of her favorites are still my favorites.  The Bishop’s Wife is my favorite Christmas movie.  The Thing From Another World is still a great sci-fi film.  Her love of The Quiet Man prompted me to contact Maureen O’Hara and she graciously signed a photograph for me.  Thankfully my mom and my dad taped a lot of Marx Brothers films from the late shows on TV and that started a lifelong love of their work too.

            My mother had a sense of humor that could go towards the dark at times, which I love.  I remember she would be getting testosterone with her cancer treatment.  She wanted to have dad get her a fake moustache to put on for the oncologist so she could say, “Doc, you have to cut back on the treatment!”  Even at her funeral that sense of humor prevailed.  My father turned to me prior to the service and said, “Your mom isn’t here.”  To which I replied, “I know, she’s dead.”  My father elaborated, “No, I meant that the funeral home didn’t get her ashes ready in time, so the memorial box up front is empty.”  I said, “So mom is late to her own funeral?  That is great!”  And we both started laughing because she would have found that hilarious.

 

            She was a paranoid driver.  Ever since she got into an accident years ago, she would have white knuckles on the wheel just driving to the store for groceries.  As you might imagine, it was rather tense when she would go out with me to practice driving for my license.  We would just go out into a vacant parking lot and she would tense up like I was about to attempt some James Bondian car stunt of legendary proportions.

 

            My mother was a great cook.  I can still taste her homemade apple pie and nothing since comes close to it.  She also wasn’t afraid to experiment with dishes.  My brother and I still have nightmares about a quiche Lorraine she tried to make where the eggs never set.  Only a year ago did I attempt to make one on my own.  That it came out is a testament to her watching over me from afar.

 

            I hope that my loyal readership allows me this posting, as it is quite a left turn from my usual fare of nonsensical natterings and exquisite blather.  But all of a sudden 15 years just blinked by and I felt the need to reflect upon them.  The ultimate knowledge that my mother and I will be reunited in paradise someday is a comforting thought.  Without faith there is no such comfort.  One day my mother will meet her daughter-in-law and her grandchildren.  One day we will all be brought together.  What a day that will be! 

 

            If time permits, I’ll get my mom to watch the Sherlock Holmes shows with Jeremy Brett.  I think she’ll love it!

The Deck Is Always Stacked Against You

          After spending what I believe to be the appropriate amount of time to mourn the loss of the wonderful Christopher Lee, I have decided much to the appreciative chagrin of my semi-adoring public to return to write yet another irreverent and scattershot post.  Before I get started however, I just wanted to reiterate what a loss not having Christopher Lee around is to this world.  He was such a delight onscreen in any number of roles.  My only hope is that his passing is only temporary and that at some time in some vague European nation some weary travelers will make the mistake of staying at the wrong castle and a devoted servant will use them as the bloody means to resurrect Lee from the grave.  Of course then Peter Cushing will have to be resurrected to kill him all over again, but what a ride that would be!

 

          Thank you for indulging my initial digression and let me get to the meat of what I wanted to write about today.  At some point in your life, you may find yourself living in a house that you are attempting to own despite voluminous mortgage bills and property tax payments.  This house may be blessed with a deck somewhere on it.  The previous owner might have been just great and slathered on a layer of dirt cheap paint to make everything look good enough to sell but not to last beyond 2 days after the house sale closed.  This might be good enough for a time, but then if you’re extremely blessed, you might have a wife that continually says, “Wouldn’t it be great if the deck were repainted!”  You might even reply with an agreement as I did that went along these lines: “Yep, Honeybunch!  That sure would be nice if that deck were repainted!”  You then might be dealt a stare that would drive all the warmth from your body due to the day of reckoning atmosphere that accompanies it.  You then might think: “Oh, no.”

 

            Well, if you happen to be the poor sod that is stuck with such a dilemma, fear not!  For I am a survivor of such an ordeal and am living just long enough to give all of you some tips and tricks on how to get out of staining your deck.  Whoops!  Please replace “out of” in the previous sentence and replace it with “started on”.  I forgot my wife sometimes reads these posts and she’s probably reading this sentence right now.  Hi, dear!  Doesn’t the deck look great?  Whew, I think she’s gone now, so here we go!

 

·        When I asked a friend of mine who owns a painting company what would be the best way to attack repainting/staining a deck, his first response was “Get rid of the deck.”  He did have a point.  After all, I live in Wisconsin, which does get to experience the effects of a season known as winter some six months out of a year.  If we’re lucky, sometimes even more!  Why in the name of Cthulhu would one own a deck in the Dairyland?  However my wife wouldn’t buy my “accidentally” destroying the deck even with my vast technological ineptitudeness at my disposal.  The chances of a tornado just taking the deck out are slim and a fire would be hard to control with such precision, but never say die.  Perhaps if I hired some guys to dismantle it while my wife was out and when she asked about it, I would reply bravely, “What deck?  This house never had one!  Why do you think we got such a deal?!”  But that would never work as the kids would rat me out in a heartbeat, the little punks!

·        Realize that the people that suggest the deck needs repainting are never the ones eager to grab a brush or slosh a roller down.  Just understand that!  You’ll save yourself a lot of heartache and anger by avoiding the clever retort, “Oh yeah, well why don’t you do it!”  Not that I can speak from experience, but I bet my grandmother would have grabbed that brush and would have done a better job than me.  Hmmm…come to think of it, let me revise this thought.  Challenge anyone that you think could do a better job than you at painting a deck.  You’ve got a 50/50 shot of getting out of doing it yourself.

·        Speaking of not doing it yourself, don’t let yourself be talked out of hiring someone else to do this task.  Although I did find it odd that when I mentioned the deck painting to the painting company friend, he didn’t violently leap at the idea of getting paid to do it for me.  Quite the contrary in fact.  However, there’s nothing quite like the satisfaction that comes from a job well done…by someone you’ve hired.

·        If you dare your wife that you’ll paint the deck but only if she picks up the paint in the color she wants, you will have that brush in your hand quicker than you can say “Sherwin Williams”.  You won’t get to the “Williams”.  Even with having to drag 3 children under the age of 5 into a Home Depot, she’ll have 9 gallons of paint waiting for you when you get home from work that very day.  Again, this is purely hypothetical and has nothing per se to do with my individual set of circumstances of course.

·        Delay tactics are a must at this point.  Even if there is a hint of rain coming from two states over, bring it up and say something along the lines of “Oh, shoot!  Sweetie, I just don’t want to waste the paint and have it all wash away!”  This will work a surprising amount of times.  Unless of course your wife gets a smartphone, links up to three different weather sites, and calls up the local weatherman every 6 minutes to get her personal “Weather on the sixes, because the eights take too long” reports.  At this point, you are defeated.  The only available out is if you can come up with a plausible arm break.  Inevitably failing that train of thought, prepare for paint day!

·        You might think that you have supplies for the forthcoming day of painting and you probably do, but they won’t be enough.  Oh no.  The cost of the paint was cheap compared to the brushes, rollers, roller brushes, brusher rollers, stirring sticks, brush extension poles, brushes, paint trays, paint tray liners, knee pads, brushes, handheld paint cup, handheld paint cup liners, brushes, paint remover, and of course brushes you’ll need.  Also, be sure that your paint is far too thick to make the use of a sprayer effective in any way, shape, or form. 

·        Also if you think something would be great to be covered with a roller, grab the hand brush because the roller will work like garbage.  If you think something would be best covered with a brush, you’re right.  Who would have thought that after all this time, the paintbrush would be the best application for getting paint on things?  So why’d you buy all that other stuff?  You fool!  Take it back to the store and get a refun…oh, wait.  You say that everything’s covered in paint because you tried to use it?  Oh, well, that’s different.  You’re screwed.  Never mind.

·        Examine your deck.  Did the builder make simple railings that were easily accessible from all angles?  No, of course they didn’t.  Never in a bazillion years would they ever think to do that!  I happened to have some sort of double decker railing with little 2 X 2 supports in-between them that were not only impossible to effectively paint, but they were also impossible to paint effectively too.  I think if they had the option, they would have hired those carvers that make ornate sculptures out of elephant tusks to work on the wood as well. 

·        Given your concern over the weather being a factor in your painting experience, have you ensured that the day will be breathtakingly scorchingly hot?  Please do so.  If you start to feel sick while out there for hours on end, don’t worry.  You’re just experiencing the effects of heatstroke combined with inhaling paint fumes from 8 AM until 5:30 PM.  Other than that, you are fine!  Keep pushing that brush, slacker!

·        If your wife gives you a tasty sandwich and a nice cool beverage as a pit stop after your hours of painting and you then immediately hear a loud thunderclap, please be sure to laugh uncontrollably.  You’ve earned that release, partner!  If you are extremely fortunate, the rain will come down in drenching sheets and you will laugh even louder.  Let the laughter heal you.  Doing so will prevent you from strangling the first person that asks you, “Hey, how’s the painting going?”

·        Now if you’re like me and I know I am, you’ll want to make sure that you’ve covered all bits of the old paint job so that nothing shows through.  At this point, be assured that you’ll discover that you definitely have a form of OCD!  I never even knew I had it this badly despite my need to alphabetize and chronologicalize everything I own.  Even my children cannot be addressed out of order.  I never thought that I could get nightmares about having to touch up a deck, but I just kept on learning new things through this experience!  A good way to battle this problem is to have plenty of ice cold beer around!  Sure, the paint won’t be spread as evenly but you’ll start to care less and less.  Also alcohol is a scientifically proven thirst quencher.  Science: The Stuff You Think You Know!

·        After the end of the third day spent painting, when you’ve used the last bit of your current gallon after a rationing effort that mirrors how you’d dole out the remaining fresh water while stuck in a lifeboat, definitely take a moment to sit back now.  You’re done!  Take a well-deserved break.  Sit in the shade and just admire your handiwork.  I bet you never thought you had it in you!  I bet you never thought that it would never turn out looking that good!  Better yet, call your wife over to share in this moment.  Perhaps you’ll be fortunate enough to have her bring up certain areas that still need touching up.  Take a well-deserved moment to cry.  Start blubbering like a toddler that was told that Thomas the Tank Engine was killed in a horrible derailment accident.  If you don’t have kids and/or that Thomas illustration won’t suffice, try crying like Howard Dean. 

·        I suggest using nothing short of an industrial belt sander to help you remove the paint that now covers 86.9% of your body.  Those cute antibacterial soaps that smell like woodland fairy flatulence are nice and all, but they cannot remove paint whatsoever.  If you cannot find a soap that works for you, simply shave the skin away.  At least the scar tissue will be clean of paint and you’ll have a physical memory of your deck painting adventure!

 

          Well, I do hope that these tips and tactics will assist you in making the right decision for your deck adventure.  Remember the best tip is to not have a deck in the first place.  However if you’ve been saddled with a deck that needs repainting and certain members of your household won’t stop bringing this up, do the responsible thing.  Get your supplies, starting with the beer, and go watch Sir Christopher Lee in something, anything.  Did you know he was a bad guy in a Chuck Norris movie?  It was called An Eye For An Eye and Chuck is great!  You might catch a little grief, but all the better to waste even more time in the hopes that a twister will take that deck right off the house.