I had to change the “No injuries” sign in my kitchen last Sunday. Yes, it was the waffle iron… the new one. My batter was a little too thick so a little oozed out over the side. When I went to clean it off a puff of steam gave me a slight steam burn on my hand. It just made my hand red, it didn’t blister it or anything, but I had to count it anyway. It gave me a chance to sing one of my favorite songs: the “Ballad of Casey Jones.” You know the part the part that goes: “He was going down grade makin’ 90 miles an hour, when his whistle broke into a scream; they found him in the wreck, with his hand on the throttle, scalded to death by the steam.” They just don’t write music like that anymore. (I can hear the neighbors saying, “Thank goodness!”)
When I do things like that, I’ve had people say, “You ought to have your head examined.” Next week I have an appointment with the nice neurology lady. Then I can say, “I’ve had my head examined, and I’m OK.” I don’t think she’s going to be checking the area my friends are worried about, but I’ll get my head examined. Humans should be born with a “check engine” light. It would make it all much easier.
Did any of you learn cursive writing with the Palmer Method? One of my head problems involves my ability to write. I was a good handwriting student. I would dip my pen in the ink well and make beautiful concentric circles on that thick lined paper in fifth grade. Now my writing is much like the doctor’s — unreadable. I write notes and can’t read them. It makes me want to cry!
I received a book written by an old Army friend. It was a personal biography from the time he spent in the service, and he was a career man so it was much of his adult life. Have you ever thought about writing a book about your life? I’ve been encouraged by my children to write about growing up and serving in the Army. Sort of a “How I met your mother” type of biography. That seems to be pretty popular these days.
I’m not sure I want to put some of the activities of my early life in print. I think my kids are aware that I wasn’t a “Leave it to Beaver” type youngster. No doubt it would be interesting reading, but I wouldn’t want to be doing explaining now that it’s over and done. My grade school buildings have been replaced so you can’t see my worn path to the principal’s office. My high school was closed and is now a private school so you won’t be able to find my thick folder in the discipline file; maybe that’s best. Some of my adventures were really exciting and interesting, but as I look back on them, most were outright dumb! I’d rather not have people saying, “Did you really say that?” or, “How did you think you were going to get away with that?” Maybe I’ll write it with the memo, “Open on my passing.”
Easter’s coming up and I don’t know how to boil eggs.
You can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org.