Ode to an old friend

There was this old lady across the street when I was 11-14 years old.
And for some reason, with her, I was always doing what I was told.

She was a spritey old lady, but an old lady, nonetheless;
I'd say she was in her 60s or 70s, I guess.

Don't recall exactly how the relationship began,
but I was mowing her lawn and taking out the garbage can.

She paid pretty good ...I could never complain.
She made lemonade and sandwiches for me, even when it would rain.

Yet, it wasn't the money after a while for me.
It was what I gained in keeping her company.

I learned the attitude of respect and why manners were important;
Not that my mom didn't teach me, but this was different.

Honesty and trust are pillars in success,
while kindness and understanding should never take rest.

I would never question her motives, even when she scolded me,
because it always made sense ...especially when it came to safety.

My mom loved her -- brother, sister and dad, too.
Mrs. Lorraine Aarnegard, thank you.

What are you afraid of?

Now and then, I'll 'evaluate' myself ...by talking to myself.

Recently (in the car on my way home), I asked myself, "What are you afraid of?" As if, it was being asked by someone one could trust with their innermost.

First and foremost (atleast until it can be defined further), I'm not a big fan of hostile confrontation, especially verbal, between coworkers and friends. All others I'm at ease with. And, this is most definitely to a detriment. For instance, we needed to fabricate an addition to our tempering machine at work to make the flow of progress much more efficient. It was discussed for quite some time, but with everything going on in our shop, there was very little opportunity to progress. When that time did arrive and we discussed what materials to use, there was conflict; wood, which was plentiful and cheap, or aluminum and tin, which was more costly and an ordering process that would have taken up to 2 weeks. The wood won over because of one man's insistance (although we have a welder and machine on premise), and now we wait and see if it catches fire: hopefully not. What we did make out of aluminum (we have a metal bender), there was conflict over. Keeping in mind that I run this operation that the additional fabrication is for, the wood idea was from the 'manager' of another division (of which we are all a part of) ...that might be another post. Anyway, although neither of us has explicit authority over the other (unless my division is not in operation, then he does have authority over me), I allowed him to lead the process of this additional fabrication. Wow, this is getting longer than I thought it would be. Aaaannnd, back to the aluminum part ...after a few minutes of thought and discussion with a coworker, I had to step up. So, roughly 15 minutes after the discussion with the 'leader,' I had to disagree and tell him. I'm going to make these {this way}. He said 'ok.' Hrmmmm ....learn something.

I'm afraid of flying stinging insects, like wasps, hornets and bees. If the means are convenient, I'll atleast try to kill a bee, though. I don't get close enough to hornets and wasps to kill them. And they know it. They taunt me all the time. I hate those things. When I was a little kid, like 5 I think, I was stung on my upper-inner thigh (extremely close to something I would soon be close to) by a bee. That was a terrifying ordeal. Then, two years ago, helping my father-in-law trim a loquat tree in our backyard, I was swarmed and attacked by hornets. Since that day, you will hear a grown man wine about hornets and wasps.

I've had other fears in the past, but a great deal of them have been dealt with and there's nothing I can think of now that I fear ...save hornets, wasps, bees, and verbal hostile conflict between coworkers and friends. Thats all!

I cooked and ate sirloin while writing this

I was walking from my in-laws to our house today, and stopped and watched a cute site. A family of chickens ...hen, rooster, and eight bitties. I stood there watching them. How they've grown in the past lil bit. It wasn't that long ago, that ...oh that brings me to the story.

(wish i could do the drawings but it would scare the audience)...

Mama and a few of her chics were taking a lazy sunny stroll through the neighborhood when Marty started in on his little rantings over everything.

"How does all this stuff turn green, Mama?" quizzed Marty. Before Mama can reply, Marty chimes in with his own answer. "Theres this swirly looking little ant thing that poos green. Thats it! Brilliant!"

"LETS CHASE POO ANTS!" yelled Marty to his 7 siblings. The eight of them start running faster, and in circles; double, even triple checking everything to find the famed Poo Ants. The laughter even got the stern old trees to chuckle at the sight.

Joey and Marty were bestest chics since the day they hatched. They did everything together, even getting in trouble. Mama chic twitched her beak often at those two. But they always stayed near. Never outside a chirp around the corner.

This day was no different from the rest. Papa was watching the skies for hawks, and the ground for foxes and 'coons. Mama kept her legs trim by keeping all eight of the chics in sight. Yet today felt a little different to Papa. He felt a strange twitch in the air when he awoke from his roost at sunrise. When Mama woke all the chics for the day to begin, Papa warned, "Ya'll cluck near Mama today. Be on your best behavior. She's getting old, you know." All the chics laughed with abruption. Faster than a shudder, Mama let Papa see her underwing. "hu-oooooooooooh!" said all the chics in unison.

The high sun had just passed overhead, and Mama was spying some shade for her chics. Just then, from out of nowhere, came a bustling demon! Fast, furious, loud ...and MEEEEAN! Chasing round and round.

Mama was furiously calling out to her chics, "Run! Run! Hide! Come to me, I'll protect you!" Papa flurried into action, trying to scare the beast, however, to no avail. Chic after chic, tumbling, tossling, chirping, running ...hiding.

As fast as it began, it was over. The demon has found new attention. It seems to be running FROM something else. The chics are shivering in tiny holes in the neighborhood, or small, tight brush about. Mama starts calling to her chics to come out after Papa gives her the 'all clear.'

Shaking uncontrollably, all the chics start coming in to huddle under Mama's wings. Mama coos her chics while Papa strengthens his vigil perch. Before Papa could crow a warning ...!
"MARTY! MARTY! MAAAAARTYYYYYY!" screams Joey.

The demon has made one last round. Now Marty is gone.

Joey falls to his breast, legs giving way, and cries a cry like cries cry. Mama runs to Papa for comfort, and the remaining 6 chics follow suit. But Joey, well, Joey cries.

I'll post part two sooner or later.


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