July 07 '01
Volume 266
Cookout
Planned July 28, 2001
As the date of the next RRN
cookout
approaches, Saturday, July 28th
2001, it seems appropriate to remind folks of the pending event. It is an
event and one you won’t want to miss. Two seasoned cooks, Lee Gordon
and Jim Hess served up some fantastic catfish and hushpuppies last year and
have agreed to handle the fish kettles again this year. Due to our expecting
as many as 100 attendees, Lee and Jim will be looking for a couple of assistants.
Let RRN know if you can be counted on for assistance.
The invitations were printed last week, but since they contained a major
error, they are being reprinted. We could have lived with a small error,
but when the printer listed the cookout sponsor as RPN instead of RRN, we
opted to have them reprinted. Most area readers of this newsletter and/or
neighbors and friends should receive an "official" invitation to the cookout
by the middle of the month.
Persons who do not receive a printed invitation should regard notification
via this newsletter as an invitation, too. Any subscriber is welcome to attend
the cookout.
Though not expressly stated in the wording of the invitation, the desire
of the editor and his family is that recipients of the invitation will consider
all members of their household as invitees. Even if the addressed envelope
is limited to Mr. and Mrs. John Smith or simply Jane and John Doe, other
family members are welcome to attend.
We are asking all who plan to attend to notify us as early as possible in
order that adequate food supplies and accommodations are available. Presently,
the main courses are fixed, but desserts will be optional. Persons willing
to bring a freezer of homemade ice cream or a cake are asked to contact us
regarding their intent at the time of their RSVP to the invitation. If you
don’t do desserts and feel led to bring something anyway, how about
a plate of raw onion wedges, chunked lemons, or perhaps a dozen baked
Vidalia’s. Also, feel free to bring a lawn chair, just in case there
is limited seating.
We look forward to your joining us for a great time of fellowship and food.
Should any of you be wondering why this is the lead article, it’s because
some readers overlooked the announcement of the cookout in a May issue.
Correction
Asleep At The Keyboard
As much as I would like to believe that my memory is infallible, I am
occasionally shown otherwise. In the last issue of this newsletter dated
June 30, 2001, I inaccurately stated the lyrics to a popular song sung by
Elvis Presley as "…want you be my teddy bear." The correct lyrics should
have been "I just wanna be your teddy bear."
Compounding my embarrassment is the fact that I used the incorrect lyrics
to support my mild diatribe against feminists and the police of the politically
correct.
A friend in Minnesota wrote the following:
Mr. Carter,
I'm going to have to correct you on your last newsletter on the lyrics to
Elvis' "Teddy Bear" song. He was not asking the girl to be his Teddy
Bear, he was the one wanting to be her Teddy Bear.
And I quote, "I wanna be - your Teddy Bear - put a chain around my neck and
lead me anywhere - cuz I wanna be ….your Teddy Bear.
With these lyrics it would explain why the feminist group would have no
objections to the song.
Thanks,
Nettie Kay
PS I am enjoying your newsletters
Though somewhat humbled by the whole experience, I’m certain that my
humanity will condemn my memory to fail again. It’s just a matter of
time.
The
Projects Deck & Garage
No, no, not that kind of projects. This article has nothing to do with public
housing.
The days of summer are longer than the days of winter, at least they are
for those of us in the middle latitudes of this orb called Earth. If the
astronomy course I aced at Ole Miss in 1966 were still fresh, I could recite
more about what makes the daylight hours longer during the warmer seasons,
but perhaps most readers already know the reason for the longer days. (For
my blonde daughter: No dear, it has nothing to do with Daylight Savings Time.)
I suppose it’s a good thing that the warmer months do have more daylight,
if for no other reason than to give weekend gardeners and yard boys more
time to labor. I spend so much time doing yard work on any given Saturday
that there is little time to do anything else. If the lawn doesn’t need
trimming or edging, then either the shrubs or the hedges need attention.
If all three are in good shape, it seems something needs mulched or weeded.
If those needs are met then kudzu containment is a priority. Thus, it seems
there’s no end to yard maintenance, until a killing frost arrives in
October or November to officially end the growing season, and then it's time
to rake or mulch leaves.
As I began to think ahead to a planned cookout, I gave more and more
consideration to our deck behind our house. When we bought the house two
years ago, I thought even then that the deck needed repainting. With painting
in mind for a summer project, I inspected the condition of the wood itself
and determined several rails needed replacement as well as did most of the
latticework. The floor itself seemed satisfactory and will probably last
several more years (knock on wood).
Most of my carpentry skills were gained under the tutelage of my granddad,
my dad, or my Uncle Earl, and some skill was perhaps obtained during the
year of shop I had in high school that included a six-week course of wood
working under the instruction of Don Mallard. The remainder may be attributed
to hands-on experience.
Actually, my carpentry knowledge greatly exceeds my possession of the tools
of carpentry needed to apply that knowledge. Over the years, such devices
as levels, squares, tape measures, and saws have vanished without a trace
and with no one in my household having any idea where they might be today.
Luckily, I have managed to keep a pretty decent claw hammer, and the circular
saw my children gave me a few years back is still around. However, a pry
bar is needed to disassemble something as rigidly constructed as a deck railing.
I purchased one after a canvass of my neighbors' shops did not produce one.
While my material estimates for lumber were near perfect (seven sheets of
lattice and five 2x6 planks for the top rails), my estimated timetable to
complete the construction faltered. I figured on two Saturdays, one to buy
the materials and get started and one to finish the project. Were I twenty
years younger and if the grass did not also need trimming, perhaps my time
estimate would have been on target. As it turned out I needed parts of three
Saturdays and one Friday afternoon to finish the repairs and clean up the
area and haul away the scraps. Jason helped somewhat, holding materials while
I sawed, driving a few nails, and finally helping truck away the scraps to
the landfill. Without his help, the reconstruction might not yet be complete.
Now, all that remains of the deck project is a hard day's painting, for which
my son-in-law, Anson, has volunteered his services. Anson figures a day with
a compressed air unit and paint sprayer will restore the appearance of the
deck to "near new." Actually, he didn’t include the "near new" part;
I just threw that in. When the painting is completed on July 7th,
the deck may not look new, but it will look much better than it did a month
ago.
A secondary project that remains incomplete, as of this writing, is getting
the garage cleaned out. Without a storage building on the grounds, the garage
still has a few crates and boxes left over from our move two summers ago.
Almost everything can be sorted and boxed and stored in the floored attic
above the garage.
An old chest of drawers and an upper section to a hutch presently serve to
organize a few odds and ends. Sarah wants to strip the finish off the chest
and hutch pieces, restore them, and find a place for them at her house. I
would have already given them to her, but for the fact there's no room in
her carport for them, until she throws away some of her junk.
To hear Sarah tell it, she'd have already gotten the items from me, but she
didn't have a way to get them to her house. However, I've got a truck; she
and I each have a son, and all it would have taken six months or even a year
ago would have been her saying, "Do it."
Well, come July 4th, it'll be like kids playing hide 'n seek.
You know, one child counts to one hundred while the other players hide, then
the counter yells, "Ready or not, here I come!"
I'll be the one yelling, "Ready or not."
Rayanne had committed to help clean out my garage last weekend, but with
me working on the deck during the early morning and with the day having turned
rather hot by the time I was free to help her in the garage, she and I elected
to postpone the project a week, but I’ve since decided on the
4th. It is hoped the garage project will be completed by the time
this article is printed.
Congratulations
Reader Comment
As many readers will remember, June marked the beginning of the sixth year
of this publication. Within hours of
RRN's fifth
anniversary, a couple of congratulatory messages were received, one from
Larry Young and one from Gwen Cottrell.
Larry's remarks, dated June 2nd, were somewhat brief, though greatly
appreciated, "Congratulations on 5 years of The Ridge Rider. Keep up the
good work."
Gwen's remarks, of June 3rd, were a bit lengthier, "Certainly
e-mail is preferred over the pony express. Look what it has done for you!
Congratulations on your five year celebration of the Ridge Rider. You describe
readers to a "T." The pack rat in the family is ME! So please don't do away
with your archives.
This past Wednesday, I copied three or four of your past works to take to
a lady at Wieuca Baptist Church. She has Internet, and I encouraged her to
"look you up." It so happened that another lady sitting at our table was,
also, from MS. When they check out the Ridge Rider, you'll have added guests.
Do you recall the movie Phenomena? The two children's mother was dying
of cancer. They had already been abandoned by their father. Now they fear
that their new friend will leave them. John Travolta and the two children
are leaning over a white picket fence. John takes a bite of an apple and
says, " I can throw this apple on the ground and it will get rotten and be
of no good. Or, I can take a bite and pass it to you; you can take a bite
and pass it on. That way the effect of the apple goes on and on and never
dies." (Now, that is a guess, not the exact quote.) The children follow his
example by taking a bite.
Five years ago you began your newsletter, you've put it on the Internet,
and it goes on and on. Readers are informing others and they pass it on,
thus the effects that began with a few copies and a few stamps have grown
and continue to reach out to touch others. How rewarding for us to read your
written expressions, opinions, news, experiences, humor, and family news!
Congratulations!"
The editor thanks both Larry and Gwen for their thoughtfulness.
Bodock Beau
Farmer/ Lawyer, Women
In today's world it's nice to hear of a farmer besting a lawyer. The following
joke was found on the Internet.
Farmer Joe decided his injuries from his recent accident were serious enough
to take the trucking company responsible for the accident to court. In court,
the trucking company's fancy lawyer was questioning farmer Joe.
"Didn't you say, at the scene of the accident, that you were fine?"
''Well, I'll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie
into the--"
''I didn't ask for any details,'' the lawyer interrupted. ''Just answer the
question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, that you were fine?"
''Well I had just got Bessie into the trailer and was driving down the road--''
''Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident,
this man told the Highway Patrolman on the scene that he was just fine. Now
several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my client. I believe
he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question.''
By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Joe's answer and told
the lawyer so.
''Well," said the farmer, "as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my
favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway when
this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my truck right
in the side. I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was thrown into the other.
I was hurting real bad and didn't want to move. However, I could hear ol'
Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in terrible shape just by her
groans. Shortly after the accident a Highway Patrolman came on the scene.
He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so he went over to her. After he
looked at her he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes. Then the
Patrolman came across the road with his gun in his hand and looked at me.
He said, 'Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are you
feeling?'"
Fatal things to say if your wife is pregnant...
"Not to imply anything, but I don't think the kid weighs 40 pounds."
"Y'know, looking at her, you'd never guess that Pamela Lee had a baby!"
"I sure hope your thighs aren't gonna stay that flabby forever!"
"Well, couldn't they induce labor? The 25th is the Super Bowl."
"Darned if you ain't about five pounds away from a surprise visit from that
Richard Simmons fella."
"Fred at the office passed a stone the size of a pea. Boy, that's gotta hurt."
"I'm jealous! Why can't men experience the joy of childbirth?"
"Are your ankles supposed to look like that?"
"Get your own ice cream."
"Gee, you're awfully puffy looking today."
"Maybe we should name the baby after my secretary, Tawney."
"Man! That rose tattoo on your hip is the size of Madagascar!"
"Retaining water? Yeah, like the Hoover Dam retains water..."
"You don't have the guts to pull that trigger..."
Thank The Aussies
With the high rate of attacks on women in secluded
parking lots, especially during evening hours, a city
council in Australia has established a "Women Only"
parking lot near downtown. Even the parking lot
attendants are exclusively female, so that a
comfortable and safe environment is created for
patrons. Below is a picture of this amazing new
concept parking lot for..."Women Only"...
Submitted by Ken Gaillard
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