Washing the Dogs

Dogs smell.... there's nothing for it.. they just do... When I got home yesterday I told James, our five year old, that it was time to give the dogs a bath.

He seemed excited about it and was more than willing to help. So I went in and filled up the tub. I'm more prone and fond of doing it outside with a hose and bottle of dog shampoo, but it was raining at a pretty steady rate so I decided against it. I got the water ready and began to fetch the dogs for the big event... James was standing next to the tub with his sleeves rolled up looking very serious about the job ahead of us.

There was much yelling and arguing, dogs scampering about with terrified looks in their eyes, and splashing of water.... By the time the second dog was finished we had a pretty good system worked out. James would tackle the top of their backs and I would handle everything else. The process took a bit longer than I thought and required far more towels than I figured were necessary, but it was done and wet dogs set about running to and fro.

There was one moment during the laborious washing when the air was full of water, we were both soaked, James slipping off the side of the tub and landing in the water had become a constant, and the action was at its most furious that our eyes met and I saw a stern look of concentration on his face. That moment I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

The thoughts that I have as I ponder the moments between my father and myself suddenly took on a new light.. I realized the things I see in my sons that I put there. It was quite a moment... I wonder if my father ever thought about this, I'm sure he did, but we never discussed it other than him looking at me over his glasses and saying, "Watch what you do, the little creatures see everything and forget nothing..."

I see my older son, Patrick, selling anything he can get his hands on to other kids at school, much as I had done.. I relayed the stories of buying things in town and taking them to school with me in my book bag and selling them for profit... He listened and asked many questions about haggling over price and I told him a few tricks to try.. It took... He has sold many video systems and games... We would read to him constantly when he was very young and now he has a huge book in his hand every time you see him... We played video games when he was just getting old enough to hold a controller and now he can beat me in any game there is...

James has a mischievous nature and loves to create pandemonium at any given opportunity.. I love that.. It can get noisy and can frazzle your nerves at times.. but secretly I love it when he does it - I see shades of my father in him... With him I seem to share a weird infatuation with monsters and drawing... not to mention scary stories and books (with Patrick too)... He carries a toy gun with him most everywhere he goes and at five already knows how take them apart and put them back together... I let him shoot the daisy BB gun that will be his one day, with much help and patience, and he loves it. As with Patrick, we read to James constantly and he always demands we do this.. He has taken to keeping books in the car, bathroom, living room.. well everywhere he's going to be... He also carries a serious nature about the things he wants to do, regardless of how annoying it is to everyone else.. I suspect he may have gotten this from me... The bitchy in the morning thing is all from his mother....

They are their own people, we don't like all the same things, Patrick loves Japanese comic books and James really likes tom and jerry cartoons, neither of these things I care for.. But, to each his own... There is something very comforting when you watch your sons say and do things that they learn from you. Even with the usual bullshit and drama of everyday life that people deal with they are pretty good kids... I'm right proud of them... I only hope that I can continue to show them how to deal with life properly, holding honor and character close, treating good people with respect, and ignoring worms they are forced to encounter and that they remember me with the same fondness that I look at my own father with...

Blogger Profile - Rooked

Here begins a series of interviews with other bloggers.. first in line is Rooked...


1. So why is Clay Perry your favorite blog?

He told me if it wasn’t that he’d slug me in the arm.

2. What influences from your early childhood do you attribute your current lifestyle to?

My parents, obviously, the landscape of the place where I lived and all the books I read.


3. Have you ever seen a UFO? And if so what happened?

Well…yes. We just saw a weird light that came down on us, shined its beam on us and then shot away in the blink of an eye. It’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me but I don’t talk about it too much because nobody ever believes it.


4. What's your opinion of our current President?

Jimmy Carter Part II


5. If you could pick one person to have dinner with, who would it be and why?

My father. Mostly because I miss him terribly and I still have a lot of questions I need to ask him.


6. Favorite song writer?

Bob Dylan.


7. Given the statement "If I could go back in time knowing what I know now" what, if anything, would you change?

Well…I might have changed my mind about marriage. And there’s a seemingly endless list of girls I would’ve worked much harder to bed.


8. Being a new parent, what advice would you give to those that are considering having children?

All the stories are true; the good and the bad. And it really is worth it. It really does change your life. Your child’s smile can wipe away all the frustrations of the worst day of your life. But you have to be ready for it and deadly serious about making sure you do it Right.


9. Imagine that you had won the lottery today... What would the next month be like for you?

You would never see me again. So…if I ever vanish in the mist…you’ll know I won it.


10. Looking at your life as it stands at this point in time, what one word would best sum it all up?

Transient.

Sunday Afternoon

Julie picked up a couple of dowels to use in her jewelry making and I promptly claimed what was left over and cut it into three pieces to use for wands, this is the first one....




A nice, reasonably quiet Sunday afternoon spent creating a huge mess on the couch and floor... it was my first crack at carving since the attempted removal of my thumb... which is now stitch free and scabbing over nicely.. I still suffer from a slight loss of mobility.. but I think that will return in time... It was a good feeling to get back into it, but very nerve inducing.. I kept finding myself holding my left hand in positions that placed it directly in the line of fire... creating a shudder of a flashback to the pleasant feeling of the blade slicing through my flesh.. followed by a momentary stoppage to regain composure... Yet... it was exactly the mind clearing, stress reducing creative process that I needed..

And no.. I wasn't wearing the protective glove... for small detail work, it makes it impossible to grip the piece..

I love her work

She does amazing work.. go check her out... Witchhollow primitives

Secret Agent Man

Once again the world of intrigue is secure.... Secret agent James is hard at work protecting western civilization from the advances of nefarious forces... Equipped with mirror glasses to see whats behind him and a vast array masterful disguises to keep his identity secret, he moves throughout the machinations of his rivals with relative ease...

One trip to the book store and a few bucks spent on a spy kit in the discount section provides countless hours of imaginative adventure....

Googlers.... God bless 'em...

In checking the stats on this blog I have come to enjoy the search phrases entered into google that lead people here... It never ceases to amuse... Here are some of my favorites:

carving wooden wood
getting sex in Savannah ga.
bloody tampon
ways to kill stephen fowler
wizard head
dexters moms butt
dexters moms email
child in distress
things that are fun and legal
savage gash
coffee is from satan
christmas is gay
fema is killing u.s. peoples
when is jesus coming

and my personal favorite...

why am i so dumb?


you get the idea...

Moon Pie

It was a year ago today that my father died. Delmos Perry was a man that loved his family with a heart that bore care, concern, frivolity and enjoyment of company. He was as comfortable speaking to kings as he was making nonsensical noises to a child in his lap, just before giving them coffee and pot liquor from collard greens by the spoonful…

There are some people that you meet in life that can hold an audience of one to ten thousand enraptured when they speak, he was such a man. Imagine somewhat of a mix of Justin Wilson, James Earl Jones, Jerry Clower, and Sam Clemens. Oh, with a dose of Judge Roy Bean tossed in…

He was a proud Southerner who wore his love for this region on his sleeve with a fierce protectiveness and passion that you just don’t find much of anymore. A gentleman in every sense of the word.

The day of his funeral we walked down to my uncle’s house (the place where they grew up, inherited by him after my grandmother passed away) to take him some of the food that shows up by the truck load on such occasions. This was Donald, my Dad’s brother, who went on to follow my Dad not long after that day… While we were sitting there he began to speak of my Dad.. His voice was full of laughter, love and yearning for a time long past… This is what he said, as close as I can recall…

“Delmos was a mean SOB..” sly belly laughs… “He would just as soon shoot you as look at you when we were comin’ up” Donald adjusted himself in his chair, picked up a Styrofoam cup with tissue packed inside and spit tobacco juice in it… “This one time we worked out a plan when we were cookin’ out for something in the front yard out there. I don’t remember what it was, somebody’s birthday or something, but everybody was there. He had this old starter pistol he kept around, and we went inside and got it, he tucked it in his pants and he told me what he wanted to do… Hell.. I thought it was funny so I went along…”

“We got out there in the yard and Delmos started yellin’ like he was all pissed off at me and then we went to fightin’ to beat all, right in front of everybody. Mama started yellin’ for us to stop it and sent somebody after daddy.. Then Delmos give me the signal and I started backin’ up yellin’ ‘Don’t do it Delmos! Don’t do it!’ and I turned and started running up the driveway like I was tryin’ to get away… He yanked that starter pistol out of his belt and started shootin’ at me like he was tryin’ to kill me, I fell on the ground…” Donald was laughing at this point, smacking his leg with tears running down his cheeks…

“Mama dropped down to her knees like she was havin’ a heart attack and daddy came runnin’ around the side of the house, everybody was yellin’ and screamin’ ‘He killed Donald! He killed Donald!’”

“Well Daddy knew better than that, he saw right off what we were doing.. Man… let me tell you, neither me nor your daddy was able to sit down for a week after that…. “ He took a few minutes to stop laughing and wipe his face.. “But that was your daddy. Always into something, had keep things going all the time… Lord, I thought mama was gonna skin us alive ….”

Everybody that knew him has a story about him, a time spent with him that they will never forget, this is mine…

I was probably nine or ten years old, we were working in the yard, off to the side of the driveway. Dad had cut some trees down with the chainsaw and sliced them up for firewood. There were several people there early on but after the wood was all loaded and taken back to the shed and stacked, it was just the two of us left.

“Drag all those limbs up and pile them over there across the road” he said as he wiped the sweat off his face.. It was summertime and as hot as you could get in Georgia, I kept looking back toward the house with a longing for the air-conditioned comfort… Yet I knew there was no stopping until he said so. I spent the next couple of hours along side of him pulling limbs across the road, building a pile about ten feet or so high. Then we started raking the pine straw and wood chips up. When all this was done I was about to drop from the heat.. Covered in sweat and dirt I was hoping beyond hope that we were done..

“Get that gas can and put it on the back of the truck…” I ran over and grabbed the can and sat it near the tailgate. He then called for me to hop in and we took off.. He said we needed more gas and something cold to drink.. We made our way over to the store in Sargent. It was a small place, cinder block and painted white. I stood inside in front of the big black fan that was running while he talked to the guy that was behind the counter about people I had never heard of.

Dad had a thing about getting snacks that nobody but him would eat, barbecued corn nuts that would break your teeth if you tried to eat them, or “diablo hot salted peanuts” that no human could stand to put in their mouth, or boiled peanuts.. 'slime in a bag' is what I called them… I went outside to wait for him by the truck, he came out with a bag of horrible snacks and a couple of drinks, RC cola.. he handed me a moon pie and a drink. On the way back home he talked about growing up around there and the things that he did while I ate the moon pie and downed the icy beverage. I always laughed when he talked about his adventures as a child. As we pulled back into the driveway he told me to get the gas off the truck and my heart sank… I couldn’t begin to imagine what type of tortuous manual labor I was about to have to do. He reached behind the truck seat and pulled out a mason jar.

I watched as he poured gas into the jar all the way to the top. He went across the street and doused the limb pile with gas and set it on fire. The flames were high and ungodly hot as we tended it and watched it burn until it began to get dark. All the while he talked about working in my grandfathers garden and growing up just down the road. My grandfather came up there as evening set in and we all sat there by the huge fire and I listened as they talked about things they used to do and the trouble my dad got into. When it had grown to full darkness my dad went across the road to the truck and came back. I was watching the fire and heard my grandfather yell out “Now Delmos, don’t you do that!” I then saw a full mason jar of gas flying through the air and ran backward away from what I knew was coming…

That was the first ever mushroom cloud I had seen in my life. The explosion was tremendous and limbs blew out several feet in all directions. I stood in awe as I watched the fireball rise slowly up, I could see the huge grin on my dad’s face as my grandfather admonished him for his actions. For a few brief seconds I was afforded a glimpse back in time to see my dad as a child getting in trouble…

That was a good day….

I miss my Dad today more than others and think I will cap off this evening by having myself an ice-cold RC cola and a moon pie.

On the mend....

Well... it's lost that tight feeling from the swelling, and the blue black appearance is going away, it doesn't bleed as much either... It's very hard not to pick up the damn cane and keep working on it, but when I do I can feel the pulling apart of the cut.. not a good thing. I don't like having stitches, it's very aggravating. Yet the sun is shining, the temperature is getting near seventy and there is a slight breeze... how can you be down on a day like this?

I can't wait until I start the chainsaw carving....

it has my blood on it... james said.. "that's cool dad.." it kind of is...

Bandage change... ick..

Its not a great pic, but you get the idea....

Ummmmm.... ouch...

I decided to work on a cane tonight. Near the hand grip there was a knot.... It was a stubborn knot...

While holding the the cane about eight inches below the grip in my left hand, I was working on said knot with the knife in my right hand, and it slipped....

There was a harshly vivid split second of clarity as the blade plunged completely into the palm of my left hand and burrowed its way through the flesh between my thumb and index finger... nice... I snatched the blade out and slapped my right hand on it and looked around to see if anyone noticed.. Then I noticed the copious amount of blood that didn't seem to abate in its flow.

"Julie"....
"Did you cut yourself?"
"Ummm Yep.."
Then I showed her..
"Oh my God.."

Julie vanished, she was getting dressed for the hospital, I made my way to the sink... Promptly to experience a drop in blood pressure and begin the menacing dance of "hey let's pass out"...

My in laws are in town for a visit and went into action...exactly what all happened I'm not really sure.. I sat in a chair and was very lightheaded for a while as I bled.. then asked Julie if she thought I needed stitches.. my father in law looked at it and said.. "I think you do"..

So off we went..

A few hours later... I sit here and write this out one handed... I had seven stitches, a whole bunch of little stinging shots, a tetanus shot, lots of testing for range of motion... I was informed that I nicked an artery and cut it to the tendon casing. "You did a thorough job" was the quote from the doctor.. along with "This might hurt a little bit"...

Now I have to have it checked by an orthopedist for damage... But "It looks ok, nice and clean" It looks like Frankenstein stitches from the palm to the back of my hand, but forgive me for not unwrapping it to share it.. I'll post a photo at the first dressing change.. scheduled for twenty four hours from now... I wouldn't watch the procedure but Julie did.. she informed me that it was quite bloody and very butcher shop looking... That's the knife with a bit of my blood on it...

The worst part is... I have a chain mail glove for my left hand designed to prevent these types of things... The damn thing is on the table next to my bed... son of a bitch...

soul singing

Stephen Fowler on Wife Swap

We had settled in this past Friday to night watch the program Ghost whisperer, or Boob whisperer as I refer to it… yet it was a rerun. I then pulled up the guide and saw that Wife Swap was on and clicked on it. What I was then treated to was an hour of quite possibly the most offensive human being I have ever had the misfortune to listen to.

You watch these shows to see outrageous behavior so that you can feel somewhat better about yourself in the long run, or just simply to laugh your ass off over unbelievable people who hold views that simply can not be for real.

One Stephen Fowler, naturalized U.S. citizen from England, living in San Francisco has proven to be one of the most unpopular individuals to ever grace a television screen. I understand why. To make fun of people is something that we all do, but to completely show contempt for another living human being is so disgusting on such a primal level that I myself would’ve popped this guy had I been in his presence. He is involved in several business endeavors for sustainable energy, and sits on many boards, yet he seemed not to think about any of this when he appeared on national television and insulted the following things… Middle America, the United States Military, people with only high school educations, fat people, people with IQs less than 158, people who use fossil fuels, etc etc etc… In other words, about 98% of the population of this country, and indeed this world.

Having googled the guy that night after the show, I found several things about him on line and read quite a bit about him. He seems by all accounts to be a typical liberal elitist. I found nothing new here, except for his disdain for America and the people living here. I have run across this many times, but never at quite such a vitriolic level as this guy.

Now, it seems that his performance has created somewhat of a backlash for himself and his family… and they are shocked. Many of the web sites for this guy are now gone, many were brought down by traffic. He has received death threats, and threatened to sue “forthwith” a site that allowed his home address to be published. His facebook account has been taken down, anti Stephen Fowler groups and sites have popped up everywhere, blogs defending him – posted by his friends - have been taken down, and his business relationships have been affected by his performance on this television program.

You would think that with an often-repeated IQ of 158 he would have thought about this before he appeared on the tv show… In his position, he should have been nice and plugged all of his business ideas to a national audience, but what did he do? He informed his “stand in wife” that she was… “stupid”, a “redneck”, “this country needs people like you to feed the military”, “probably makes more in a week than her husband does in a year”, “scored in the 99.9 percentile of the CRE” she lived in a “Podunk” town.. and tossed out a parting insult to her husband at the end of the show as he walked away… Yes, quite the classy guy…

I have since read a blog by a friend who was there with them the night the show aired and defended him , as “suffering no fools”… and commented about the stupidity of the swapped wife since she “only has a high school diploma”… the blog has since been removed or taken down. She was actually surprised that they began to receive hate calls and emails as the show aired across the country, and made light of one of their friends being so “witty” on the phone with the “uneducated caller”… business as usual…

I’m shocked on a few fronts here.. First, the hatred this guy has for most of the people in the world. Second that he and his circle of family and friends are surprised by the mass’s reaction to his “intellect”. Third, that people are having such a vile reaction to an elitist, liberal, anti military, environmentalist, anti American individual… Most of these people are like this, he was just in their face with it. And lastly, that even with his intelligence level he is threatening to sue people for publishing information that is included in the public domain…

People live and move in relatively small groups of individuals and come to think that most folks agree with their take on “common sense”, yet are frequently surprised to discover that they indeed are among the minority when it comes to certain views and opinions. The “fly over” country that most of us live in (and he repeatedly insults) is peopled by the very individuals that fund these endeavors that keep families such as the Fowlers living in the pristine surroundings provided by such superior intellect and steeped with all the trappings that come with such a fortunate attitude and seemingly endless supply of talent for business… (dripping sarcasm does taste funny)

If you haven’t seen the program, go to youtube, unless little Stephen Fowler has threatened to sue them yet, and watch some of this guy, its really very, very sad stuff… quite nauseating to witness..

I’m actually a bit sad at this point that I watched the television program, being that a new attitude of success has now swept the country with President Obama at the helm to cleanse all the evil perpetrated across this land by us uneducated rednecks… To be reminded of my over all uselessness has popped my happy glow bubble…