Redneck Kangaroo

There's a gas station / convenience store down the road that I call the Redneck Kangaroo. (Kangaroo being the local version of Quik Marts, 7-11, or in my old hometown area - WAWA. WAWA has great coffee BTW.) So I run in there this afternoon to get a bag of ice for the cooler & end up 3rd in line, watchin' this big-bellied, shirtless, barefoot REDNECK, decked out in cut-off denim bib overalls, buying Skoal & Cigs - 'bout $9 worth - using all pennies. He kept losin' count while I dripped ten pounds of ice all over the tile floor. I don't wanna sound like I'm judgin' anyone - but dude, next time, roll the pennies first! (Wearin' a shirt would be a plus).

Now y'all got ta preeshiate Reneck inginnewitty ...



They's all loyal fans of Dale Jr...... (he's won maybe one race in the last 4 years)




... but they was all fans of his daddy - good ole number 3.... may he RIP.



They look after their youngins, even when they hafta run out for beer ....



..... so's they can git beeg 'nuff ta git some schoolin'....



The nice ones always fire a warnin' shot...



Some of 'em are finally enjoyin' the luxuries we take for granted...like hot tubs.



Computers?? Well, that's still a lil' problem, but Bill Gates is workin' on that...



Ah, now I ain't complainin' none - Rednecks is good folks n' iff'n ya jus' nod n' say 'Go Gators' to one of 'em, heck, you've gone n' done made yahself a friend for lahffe....




Okay - Had to add the following in the Jeff Foxworthy tradition

'You Might Be A Redneck IF'

1. You let your 14-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of her kids.
2. The Blue Book value of your truck goes up and down depending on how much gas is in it.
3. You’ve been married three times and still have the same in-laws.
4. You think a woman who is “out of your league” bowls on a different night.
5. You wonder how service stations keep their restrooms so clean.
6. Someone in your family died right after saying, “Hey, guys, watch this.”
7. You think Dom Perignon is a Mafia leader.
8. Your wife’s hairdo was once ruined by a ceiling fan.
9. Your junior prom offered day care.
10. You think the last words of the “Star-Spangled Banner” are “Gentlemen, start your engines.”
11. The Halloween pumpkin on your porch has more teeth than your spouse.
12. You have to go outside to get something from the fridge.

The Real Jack Rackham

Lots of writers crank out deep thoughts about inspiration on their blogs. I'll jump in with my two cents .... sort of, in a pictorial rather than highfallutin' literary kind of way. I live in a haunted seaside town in Florida. My grandson Jack has cornered the market on cool for a kid his age. His Pop (me) has a pretty wild imagination & likes storytellin'. Mix those things together & you get Jack Rackham & a bunch of crazy adventures that turn into books. Simple enough for ya?

The first thing the kid's got goin' for him is he's not afraid of the surf, or much of anything actually. He's like his Dad & Uncle Chris.



The 2nd thing - he's just freakin' cool....



The Jack in Bad Latitude is 15 years old (16 in Reckless) but in real life just turned 6 on Wednesday. We got to celebrate.



The birthday cake is decorated to look like the deck of a pirate ship. Hmmmm...



I just put these 2 pics in cuz he liked the "little lobsters" at the seafood store. He chomped them down like a real Looweezianna Rajun' Cajun.





Now I like my share of creepy stuff. I'm tryin' to train the kids early, so, naturally, we have rather odd toys around the house. That's Isabel. She's a cutie.



Reckless has a coupla chapters in the haunted Old Jail so I took Jack on a bit of a scouting mission (so he knows how to escape in Chapter 6). The best part was the thunder & lightning. All of the other "guests" hightailed it. Chickens. We were diggin' it. Created a nice atmosphere.







This is my favorite picture. (Deb's idea)

The Cane Update

This is my version of a follow-up post.

Mike & the kids flew in Friday night - I managed (just barely) to drive to the airport. No hugs or kisses from Pop 'til we made it home - I crawled to the passenger seat, & thankfully, Mike drove from the airport to the house so I could get some relief. On Saturday I was able to move, for the most part, without the cane but we stayed close to home (& close to the ice packs). Pop (that would be me) managed to sneak away to buy a new grill. The timing sounds stupid, I know, but I hate putting them together & since Mike was here.....(See I ain't that stupid after all) Oh yeah, Pop also bought Jack a bike for the beach & Isabel became the proud owner of a 3 wheeler. See, Jackman knows me too well. He brought his helmet, but not his bike. Know what I'm sayin'? THAT is pure optimism.

As evening approached Mike & Deb ran out to buy fireworks. I'm not a fan. My mother scarred me for life telling me the same story year after year about Nicky Zubco blowin' off three fingers playin' with the firecrackers. Anyway, they get back & set up these rocket-things. Me, mental images of the Zubco kid suddenly refreshed, I'm fretting about where these suckers are gonna land & will my homeowner's insurance cover acts of undeclared war on my neighbors. Zip - First one lands in the neighbor's tree (I think). So I get the bright idea that I will stand at the end of my driveway & play lookout. (We have a very long driveway.) A little history - I gave up golf because of my bad back & my inability to see where that little white ball landed after my swing. Now these rockets are goin' off & I ain't seein' nothin' - just following the sound of the thuds as they drop around me.

Today we made it to the beach - Jack & Bel rode their bikes & had a blast - so I thought I'd post a few pics.




Jack conned me outta my favorite neckware. Ahhhh - looks better on him anyway.




Isabel was practicing her letters & inventing new words.







Belly is the Dorito princess. She always tells me "Nanny says I can have a special treat."



Jack was having a bad hair day. I'd like to have bad hair day.... just one more.



I tried to fix 'im up when we got home.....



He & Nanny thought it was funny .....



I printed this picture out for Jack - Told 'im it was his cousin.....

48 Hours To Shed The Cane

Our grandkids Jack & Isabel are flying in with oldest son Michael for a 5 day visit beginning this Friday. They're all pumped up, as are we.



Here's the problem - I can't walk, sit, drive, stand or lie down without major cuss-word bad pain. My back is waaaaayyy out of wack (2 herniated discs - a 15 year problem). It just went out on Saturday & kept getting worse. I finally had to leave work yesterday - something I never do. (Driving was so painful, I was trying to figure out ways to avoid using the brake pedal. Fat chance of that on an 80-mile one-way commute.) Heck, all I was doing was reviewing drawings. Brought the stuff home & made an attempt at working from home today. Couldn't accomplish much in 15 minute intervals & gave up after a couple of hours. So for the first time in a few years I'm using my cane (my old friend) to get to & fro.

(I'm typing this standing at the kitchen bar - can't tolerate sitting at all. Everything compresses. Needless to say, I'm also not writing & was on a really good roll for the past few weeks.)



Now I'm chokin' down high-powered painkillers like the ones a real-life celebrity physician would prescribe. I'm packed in ice like a freakin' salmon. Dr. Butcher (my real doc) would have a heart attack if he knew what I was up to with my 'home' treatment. Hey - gotta do what I gotta do. This old beach tiger has 48 hours to either feel better or somehow fake feeling great. Hope the kids don't ask me to body board with 'em. Wish me luck -