26 September 2018
Story #929
R. Linda:
While Weasil be a supporter of his local fire department, he is frequently invited to fundraisers and the occasional thank-you cookout. This year, the Weas and his wife, Manda, put in an appearance at the last summer cookout for donors to the local fire department in a village in Scotland. It was an affair where a lot of Angus beef was grilled in the open Highland air with fried up onions, tatees and all manner of Scottish fare, except the famous Haggis which wasn't in season :::cough::: There were contests for the kiddies, the usual fun and games, potato sack races, making dens (which be a great way to clean up the woods). British Bulldog (called Red Rover here), a game of rounders, and for the adults, a pile of fire equipment (coats, boots, gloves) were put in a pile in the middle of a field which be marked out 16' x 16' where the 'participant' is blindfolded and their partner yells at them where the equipment is located. They have to gear up and then make their way out of the marked area. The first one out is the winner. Manda volunteered to be blindfolded, and Weasil was to direct her to the equipment. The silly boy yelled at her to pick up a boot that was by her feet. She sat down, feeling around for the boot.
"No, there, there." He yells, pointing at the boot.
"Where?" She yelled back.
"Where I am pointing!" He yelled back.
"I can't see. I am wearing a blindfold!" She shouts back.
I tell ya! If that's the kind of help he'd be, I don't want him helping me in a fire where I can't see through the smoke.
Just last year, Weasil took his brood to Disneyland. He paid something like $600 for day passes and was told the prices were going up to seasonal (surge) rates, so he was getting in at a good time. $600 is a good rate? Well, ok, he said doubtfully. His two brainiacs wanted to see the Hall of Presidents, not exactly the Weasil's cup of tea. He wanted rides, but they wanted the Hall. Trying to talk them out of that, he stopped at one of the many shops on the main drag. His son was thirsty and bought a $10 bottle of water, which had the Weasil's head spinning. But his daughter wanted the bedazzled mouse ears at $45 a pop. Weasil's reaction: "Do you want the mouse ears or would you rather go to college?" You can guess her answer: mouse ears all the way. You know the Weasil be loaded up the wazoo but his Scottish stinginess be so apparent it boggles me mind.
The best Weasil statement was when we were in Scotland with Wolfie, and Weasil had got himself into all that doughnut trouble in the Highlands, if you remember THAT. We were returning to London when we stopped at a pub for lunch. I was trying to convince Weasil to turn over a new leaf, the antics were destroying me mind. After a few scotches, he looked at us and said, "Ima gonna start tomorrow being the best I can be." To which Wolfie looked at him and said, "Raising the bar rather high, aren't you?" Yup, I laughed. However, Weasil got his revenge on the Wolf. It was the Wolf's birthday, and they met for a quick drink at the Ritz-Carlton in London. After a bit of catching up, it was time to part, and Weasil raises his glass and announces to the entire bar that it's Wolf's 42nd birthday and "he doesn't look a day over 41!" Yup, he did announce that, much to the Wolf's shock. Can you IMAGINE in the Ritz Carlton shouting THAT out? How embarrassing was that for the Wolf? I want to know. Not a day over 41, I tell ya that Weasil be something else.
Speaking of birthdays, Weasil's daughter likes to ride. She's so good at seating a horse; she's a junior power rider. She participates in cross-country riding, which be fast and dangerous, but she loves it. Her mother does not ride, but like Weasil, she'll try anything once (well, in Weasil's case, maybe twice). On Manda's birthday, Weasil gifted her with a very nice piece of horse flesh, a 16-hand thoroughbred mare who can jump as well as run fast. Not exactly the horse you'd buy or even put a first timer on. But Weasil be all about appearances, and if his wife was going to own a horse, it was going to be a good one, and it was! He had bought Manda riding clothes so she looked professional, and she said she felt very horsey. When she saw the size of the horse, she was slightly taken aback, she said. Now I would have been way taken aback, but she said the mare was shiny and pretty and even had its mane braided in little pink ribbons. Oh, how deceiving is that, I ask you? Well, Weasil got a mounting block, one of those step things you climb to get on a tall horse, and so Manda was seated on the back of the mare. She said it was the highest she'd sat in other than an aeroplane. OK. The stirrups were adjusted, the saddle was secure, she was shown how to hold the reins, and her daughter had mounted her own fast jimmy and was demonstrating the trot and how her mum should 'post' so she wasn't bounced around. Well, a few more instructions were shown off by the daughter, and Weasil let go of the mare's bridle. They told his wife to tell it to "walk forward," and she did, and the animal responded as Manda got used to "steering" it towards where her daughter and horse were cantering around an open ring. Well, as the daughter went flying by, the mare thought it was a race (yes, the mare was a former race horse and the race instinct was still in its blood), so what did it do? It suddenly took off with the speed of a Concord after the daughter's horse. Needless to say, the poor dear has not been on THAT horse or any horse since. I was offered the horse by Weasil, this be how I know all this. I only ride donkeys. And I'm not good at that either so as far as I know, Weasil now rides the horse . . . never slow. The animal does not know or acknowledge the commands walk, stop," or "slow down." It goes one speed, from still to hyper-warp speed.
If he weren't so lanky and tall, he'd probably make a good jockey. I close me eyes and see him looking very Ichabod Crane-ish, racing around after his daughter's Speedy Gonzales, going over jumps and at the very end, the daughter's mount making the brook, up and over and then Weasil's mount comes into sight. As it gets ready to lift off, on the other side, there be Wolfie on his black charger, pumpkin in one hand, broad sword in the other, shouting out in his deep voice, "You said what at the Ritz?" And Ichabod Weasil scared witless for the first time in his life, horse frozen in mid jump . . . yes, to dream!
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
Story #929
R. Linda:
While Weasil be a supporter of his local fire department, he is frequently invited to fundraisers and the occasional thank-you cookout. This year, the Weas and his wife, Manda, put in an appearance at the last summer cookout for donors to the local fire department in a village in Scotland. It was an affair where a lot of Angus beef was grilled in the open Highland air with fried up onions, tatees and all manner of Scottish fare, except the famous Haggis which wasn't in season :::cough::: There were contests for the kiddies, the usual fun and games, potato sack races, making dens (which be a great way to clean up the woods). British Bulldog (called Red Rover here), a game of rounders, and for the adults, a pile of fire equipment (coats, boots, gloves) were put in a pile in the middle of a field which be marked out 16' x 16' where the 'participant' is blindfolded and their partner yells at them where the equipment is located. They have to gear up and then make their way out of the marked area. The first one out is the winner. Manda volunteered to be blindfolded, and Weasil was to direct her to the equipment. The silly boy yelled at her to pick up a boot that was by her feet. She sat down, feeling around for the boot.
"No, there, there." He yells, pointing at the boot.
"Where?" She yelled back.
"Where I am pointing!" He yelled back.
"I can't see. I am wearing a blindfold!" She shouts back.
I tell ya! If that's the kind of help he'd be, I don't want him helping me in a fire where I can't see through the smoke.
Just last year, Weasil took his brood to Disneyland. He paid something like $600 for day passes and was told the prices were going up to seasonal (surge) rates, so he was getting in at a good time. $600 is a good rate? Well, ok, he said doubtfully. His two brainiacs wanted to see the Hall of Presidents, not exactly the Weasil's cup of tea. He wanted rides, but they wanted the Hall. Trying to talk them out of that, he stopped at one of the many shops on the main drag. His son was thirsty and bought a $10 bottle of water, which had the Weasil's head spinning. But his daughter wanted the bedazzled mouse ears at $45 a pop. Weasil's reaction: "Do you want the mouse ears or would you rather go to college?" You can guess her answer: mouse ears all the way. You know the Weasil be loaded up the wazoo but his Scottish stinginess be so apparent it boggles me mind.
The best Weasil statement was when we were in Scotland with Wolfie, and Weasil had got himself into all that doughnut trouble in the Highlands, if you remember THAT. We were returning to London when we stopped at a pub for lunch. I was trying to convince Weasil to turn over a new leaf, the antics were destroying me mind. After a few scotches, he looked at us and said, "Ima gonna start tomorrow being the best I can be." To which Wolfie looked at him and said, "Raising the bar rather high, aren't you?" Yup, I laughed. However, Weasil got his revenge on the Wolf. It was the Wolf's birthday, and they met for a quick drink at the Ritz-Carlton in London. After a bit of catching up, it was time to part, and Weasil raises his glass and announces to the entire bar that it's Wolf's 42nd birthday and "he doesn't look a day over 41!" Yup, he did announce that, much to the Wolf's shock. Can you IMAGINE in the Ritz Carlton shouting THAT out? How embarrassing was that for the Wolf? I want to know. Not a day over 41, I tell ya that Weasil be something else.
Speaking of birthdays, Weasil's daughter likes to ride. She's so good at seating a horse; she's a junior power rider. She participates in cross-country riding, which be fast and dangerous, but she loves it. Her mother does not ride, but like Weasil, she'll try anything once (well, in Weasil's case, maybe twice). On Manda's birthday, Weasil gifted her with a very nice piece of horse flesh, a 16-hand thoroughbred mare who can jump as well as run fast. Not exactly the horse you'd buy or even put a first timer on. But Weasil be all about appearances, and if his wife was going to own a horse, it was going to be a good one, and it was! He had bought Manda riding clothes so she looked professional, and she said she felt very horsey. When she saw the size of the horse, she was slightly taken aback, she said. Now I would have been way taken aback, but she said the mare was shiny and pretty and even had its mane braided in little pink ribbons. Oh, how deceiving is that, I ask you? Well, Weasil got a mounting block, one of those step things you climb to get on a tall horse, and so Manda was seated on the back of the mare. She said it was the highest she'd sat in other than an aeroplane. OK. The stirrups were adjusted, the saddle was secure, she was shown how to hold the reins, and her daughter had mounted her own fast jimmy and was demonstrating the trot and how her mum should 'post' so she wasn't bounced around. Well, a few more instructions were shown off by the daughter, and Weasil let go of the mare's bridle. They told his wife to tell it to "walk forward," and she did, and the animal responded as Manda got used to "steering" it towards where her daughter and horse were cantering around an open ring. Well, as the daughter went flying by, the mare thought it was a race (yes, the mare was a former race horse and the race instinct was still in its blood), so what did it do? It suddenly took off with the speed of a Concord after the daughter's horse. Needless to say, the poor dear has not been on THAT horse or any horse since. I was offered the horse by Weasil, this be how I know all this. I only ride donkeys. And I'm not good at that either so as far as I know, Weasil now rides the horse . . . never slow. The animal does not know or acknowledge the commands walk, stop," or "slow down." It goes one speed, from still to hyper-warp speed.
If he weren't so lanky and tall, he'd probably make a good jockey. I close me eyes and see him looking very Ichabod Crane-ish, racing around after his daughter's Speedy Gonzales, going over jumps and at the very end, the daughter's mount making the brook, up and over and then Weasil's mount comes into sight. As it gets ready to lift off, on the other side, there be Wolfie on his black charger, pumpkin in one hand, broad sword in the other, shouting out in his deep voice, "You said what at the Ritz?" And Ichabod Weasil scared witless for the first time in his life, horse frozen in mid jump . . . yes, to dream!
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
