So, Swearing Mother got me to thinking about ways people die. Lightning strikes sound quick, and it would certainly be memorable in the family lore. In my own family, one man was killed by a goose that flew through his windshield. Another had his head knocked off while sticking it out the window of a street car. Can you imagine? My grandpa died in Las Vegas waiting for a taxi. He'd gone out there with my brother and my mom for a vacation, which turned out to be a permanent one for him. Of course, there are the withering old people like my dad and his sister. My dad was so close to death for so long that when the doctor said this was really it, I hardly felt anything. Just couldn't get worked up anymore. I got worked up later--I knew about 10 people who died that year so I had ample opportunity.
Having seen people go in different ways, I decided that it would be nice to be able to say goodbye, but I don't really want to linger; it's too hard on everyone. And if I can die in a humorous fashion, so much the better for my family. Death sucks--it would be nice if they had something to laugh at eventually. Just no Darwin Awards, please. I don't want it to be that memorable.
What are some of your crazy death stories?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Goodbye, Doc
You may recall from Monday's post, if you have the memory of an elephant, that we had some nasty weather come through. As I was oohing and aahing about lightning, someone else was getting killed by it. Today is the funeral. I will be there with my mom.
His name was Doc Adams. Well, he was called Doc because he was a veterinarian. His wife, Phyllis, is a very good friend of my mom's. Doc was on the golf course with friends when the weather hit. They waited for 90 minutes in a shelter on the course before finally heading back. Doc never made it. He was with a group of four. When he didn't show back at the club house, they thought he probably took his clubs to his car and drove home, expecting him to return for a burger later. But he didn't. When one of the men left, he saw Doc's car was still there and went looking for him. His body was found beside a small pine tree.
My mom is in shock. "It's just so bizarre," she said. "It's unbelievable."
And the public wants to lay blame. The family has had to answer reporters' questions about his health, his state of mind, his supposed foolishness at being on a golf course in a thunderstorm. Readers of the online newspaper have slammed Doc and his friends, calling it natural selection that he died that way. Doc's son went on the online forum to say his dad wasn't so stupid, actually, that he would never golf in a thunderstorm and never tell anyone to wait under a tree or do so himself. He was an outdoorsman who taught and practiced safety. They don't know what happened out there, and they never will.
I only met Doc a couple of times. He seemed to me to be a very kind and patient man. From what I've read, his friends and family thought the world of him. I feel terrible for them having to endure the horrible things people are saying while they're trying to go through this.
He is the fourth person killed by lightning in Madison in less than a week. Last week, three people died when lightning snapped a power line. The live wire landed in on the ground, which was one giant puddle because it's barely stopped raining in weeks. A woman about to board a bus was electrocuted, as was the toddler she was holding. A man on the bus tried to help her, but he died, too. The driver and the woman's older child were electrocuted but survived. This happened about a mile and a half from my mom's house, a spot I go past often.
Watch out for lightning. Mother Nature can be a bitch.
His name was Doc Adams. Well, he was called Doc because he was a veterinarian. His wife, Phyllis, is a very good friend of my mom's. Doc was on the golf course with friends when the weather hit. They waited for 90 minutes in a shelter on the course before finally heading back. Doc never made it. He was with a group of four. When he didn't show back at the club house, they thought he probably took his clubs to his car and drove home, expecting him to return for a burger later. But he didn't. When one of the men left, he saw Doc's car was still there and went looking for him. His body was found beside a small pine tree.
My mom is in shock. "It's just so bizarre," she said. "It's unbelievable."
And the public wants to lay blame. The family has had to answer reporters' questions about his health, his state of mind, his supposed foolishness at being on a golf course in a thunderstorm. Readers of the online newspaper have slammed Doc and his friends, calling it natural selection that he died that way. Doc's son went on the online forum to say his dad wasn't so stupid, actually, that he would never golf in a thunderstorm and never tell anyone to wait under a tree or do so himself. He was an outdoorsman who taught and practiced safety. They don't know what happened out there, and they never will.
I only met Doc a couple of times. He seemed to me to be a very kind and patient man. From what I've read, his friends and family thought the world of him. I feel terrible for them having to endure the horrible things people are saying while they're trying to go through this.
He is the fourth person killed by lightning in Madison in less than a week. Last week, three people died when lightning snapped a power line. The live wire landed in on the ground, which was one giant puddle because it's barely stopped raining in weeks. A woman about to board a bus was electrocuted, as was the toddler she was holding. A man on the bus tried to help her, but he died, too. The driver and the woman's older child were electrocuted but survived. This happened about a mile and a half from my mom's house, a spot I go past often.
Watch out for lightning. Mother Nature can be a bitch.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Raining and Riding
Well, it's raining again. Very windy, too. Ooo! Lightning just tripped the recloser. Pow! Right now! Kelsey's tree is whipping around, looking like it's made of Silly Putty. It's quite unpleasant.
Over the weekend, before I mowed the lawn (ahem), Kelsey had her first riding lesson. Kayleigh rode Shorty, got him good and tired, then it was Kelsey's turn. She has been wanting this for a long time. Farmer Dave put smaller stirrups on and helped her up. She's a strong, wiry kid, and just zipped right up and into the saddle. Dave led her down the aisle, and she did some zig-zags and balance exercises. She seemed confident and attentive. She's looking forward to the next lesson.
P.S. Sorry about the crappy photo quality. They were taken with my phone.
Over the weekend, before I mowed the lawn (ahem), Kelsey had her first riding lesson. Kayleigh rode Shorty, got him good and tired, then it was Kelsey's turn. She has been wanting this for a long time. Farmer Dave put smaller stirrups on and helped her up. She's a strong, wiry kid, and just zipped right up and into the saddle. Dave led her down the aisle, and she did some zig-zags and balance exercises. She seemed confident and attentive. She's looking forward to the next lesson.
P.S. Sorry about the crappy photo quality. They were taken with my phone.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Mowing the Forest
First, thanks to Laurie for the Thoughtful Blogger award. I absolutely don't deserve it, but I'm pleased nevertheless. It's a wonderful inspiration.
The Jungle in the Back Yard
The rain has finally stopped, and we've had a full day of sun. I mowed the back lawn yesterday, which was a bit more of an adventure than I was expecting.
The grass was about 16 inches long in places and completely covered any toys the kids left in the yard two weeks ago when it started to rain. We have a mulching lawnmower, which shreds the grass into a green paste and deposits it on the lawn as fertilizer. Except when the grass is 16 inches long. Then, the lawnmower just has a hissy fit, chokes, and spits about a bushel of wet blades onto the lawn and gives up.
We have a bag attachment, which would have filled up after every five feet or so, and a side chute for when the grass is too long to mulch. Then it just cuts it and keeps going. Of course, I couldn't find the side chute. Eric asked me where I would put it, I told him, and apparently he didn't like that idea because it wasn't there. And he was out of town, so I couldn't ask where it was.
I decided to just use the mulcher and do the best I could, knowing it would take a while. After the lawnmower choked for about the 15th time, I figured the poor thing was going to die completely. When smoke started rising, I prepared a burial.
I dragged the thing onto the driveway and looked at it the way a perplexed woman looks at things she'd rather have her husband deal with. Don't get me wrong; I can wield a chainsaw with the best of them, and I know a spade bit from, you know, one of those regular thingies that just makes little holes in the drywall. So, it wasn't smoking anymore. I figured I should let it cool off a while, but I also just wanted to get the lawn mowed.
The little push mower was hanging on its hook--maybe that would work. No. Not when the grass is 16 inches long. I had to find the stupid chute attachment. I looked. I finally found it, in the wagon, next to the bagger. Hmm.
Before attaching it, I thought getting some of that accumulated wet gunk off the bottom would be a good idea. Again, cooling off for a while would also be a good idea. But I wanted to get the lawn mowed, remember? So I tipped the mower over, and there was probably about four bushels of grass goop under there.
I whipped out the hose and let fly. Eew. It made a great pile of wet, stinking, seeping, green, globular grass paste. I had to move the lawnmower up the hill a bit because the heap was getting so tall. Well, about this time, it started to smoke again. Too hot. I sat the thing upright and went inside, wandering, wondering what my husband would say to me if he knew what I'd been up to.
Back outside after cleaning grass bits off my hands, I tried to start the mower. Um, the pull cord pulled, but it didn't retract. It made a sad little noise when I pulled, a mechanical whimper. Then it smoked again.
Shit. I've killed it, I thought. Pace around the yard, think. Where's the owner's manual? Maybe it just needs to dry out. I must have sprayed water straight into the engine. There must be an owner's manual online. Maybe I could borrow a neighbor's lawnmower: Say, may I borrow your lawnmower? I've just killed mine, you see. No, I won't damage yours at all. Promise.
Pace some more. Try to prepare Eric for the worst. Remind him it's just a lawnmower, and lawnmowers can be fixed or replaced, but his impatience, anger, or condescension in my moment of vulnerability would be truly damaging. Right, saying it just so would be vital. Pace some more. Think. Wait. It really just needs to dry out.
Have some pop. Yeah, cold and sweet and bubbly. Maybe have a shower. Maybe call a neighbor. Yeah. Yeah. No. Pace.
Well, might as well try again. I put the chute attachment on and hoped for the best. Pull. Ooh, it pulled back a little farther this time! Try again. Hey! It almost turned over. Try again. Smoke. OK, wait. See what fabulous lie I could tell Eric about what happened. I could hear him telling me I can't use the mulcher when the grass is so long and wet; it's bad for the mower. Yeah, I know.
Pace. Think. Try again.
A few more sad whumps, and it worked! Oh, glory. My, it worked so much better with the chute attachment. It just, you know, worked. Push, cut, chute. Ha! I'll have to rake that up, though. If only I'd looked harder for the chute attachment....
Today, I'm mowing the front yard.
Here are some mushrooms that were growing in my front yard when the rain started two weeks ago.
The Jungle in the Back Yard
The rain has finally stopped, and we've had a full day of sun. I mowed the back lawn yesterday, which was a bit more of an adventure than I was expecting.
The grass was about 16 inches long in places and completely covered any toys the kids left in the yard two weeks ago when it started to rain. We have a mulching lawnmower, which shreds the grass into a green paste and deposits it on the lawn as fertilizer. Except when the grass is 16 inches long. Then, the lawnmower just has a hissy fit, chokes, and spits about a bushel of wet blades onto the lawn and gives up.
We have a bag attachment, which would have filled up after every five feet or so, and a side chute for when the grass is too long to mulch. Then it just cuts it and keeps going. Of course, I couldn't find the side chute. Eric asked me where I would put it, I told him, and apparently he didn't like that idea because it wasn't there. And he was out of town, so I couldn't ask where it was.
I decided to just use the mulcher and do the best I could, knowing it would take a while. After the lawnmower choked for about the 15th time, I figured the poor thing was going to die completely. When smoke started rising, I prepared a burial.
I dragged the thing onto the driveway and looked at it the way a perplexed woman looks at things she'd rather have her husband deal with. Don't get me wrong; I can wield a chainsaw with the best of them, and I know a spade bit from, you know, one of those regular thingies that just makes little holes in the drywall. So, it wasn't smoking anymore. I figured I should let it cool off a while, but I also just wanted to get the lawn mowed.
The little push mower was hanging on its hook--maybe that would work. No. Not when the grass is 16 inches long. I had to find the stupid chute attachment. I looked. I finally found it, in the wagon, next to the bagger. Hmm.
Before attaching it, I thought getting some of that accumulated wet gunk off the bottom would be a good idea. Again, cooling off for a while would also be a good idea. But I wanted to get the lawn mowed, remember? So I tipped the mower over, and there was probably about four bushels of grass goop under there.
I whipped out the hose and let fly. Eew. It made a great pile of wet, stinking, seeping, green, globular grass paste. I had to move the lawnmower up the hill a bit because the heap was getting so tall. Well, about this time, it started to smoke again. Too hot. I sat the thing upright and went inside, wandering, wondering what my husband would say to me if he knew what I'd been up to.
Back outside after cleaning grass bits off my hands, I tried to start the mower. Um, the pull cord pulled, but it didn't retract. It made a sad little noise when I pulled, a mechanical whimper. Then it smoked again.
Shit. I've killed it, I thought. Pace around the yard, think. Where's the owner's manual? Maybe it just needs to dry out. I must have sprayed water straight into the engine. There must be an owner's manual online. Maybe I could borrow a neighbor's lawnmower: Say, may I borrow your lawnmower? I've just killed mine, you see. No, I won't damage yours at all. Promise.
Pace some more. Try to prepare Eric for the worst. Remind him it's just a lawnmower, and lawnmowers can be fixed or replaced, but his impatience, anger, or condescension in my moment of vulnerability would be truly damaging. Right, saying it just so would be vital. Pace some more. Think. Wait. It really just needs to dry out.
Have some pop. Yeah, cold and sweet and bubbly. Maybe have a shower. Maybe call a neighbor. Yeah. Yeah. No. Pace.
Well, might as well try again. I put the chute attachment on and hoped for the best. Pull. Ooh, it pulled back a little farther this time! Try again. Hey! It almost turned over. Try again. Smoke. OK, wait. See what fabulous lie I could tell Eric about what happened. I could hear him telling me I can't use the mulcher when the grass is so long and wet; it's bad for the mower. Yeah, I know.
Pace. Think. Try again.
A few more sad whumps, and it worked! Oh, glory. My, it worked so much better with the chute attachment. It just, you know, worked. Push, cut, chute. Ha! I'll have to rake that up, though. If only I'd looked harder for the chute attachment....
Today, I'm mowing the front yard.
Here are some mushrooms that were growing in my front yard when the rain started two weeks ago.
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