The Sock Recovery Tool and Other Stories

Time once again for Mama Kat's Writer's Challenge. This week the prompts are:

1.) What's ailing you? Diagnose yourself with a syndrome.

(inspired by Kimberly from Kamp KK)

2.) Share with us something you made by hand.
(inspired by Texan Mama via email)

3.) Fess up. Tell us what you found after a spying on someone.
(inspired by The Scattered Mind of a Tattooed Mini Van Mom)

4.) "How are y'all doing it? This summer, I mean? I cannot remember ever being as busy as we've been over the past two months. Those of you who are blogging daily, being as witty and entertaining as ever...I beg of you...HOW?"
(inspired By Lula from Lulaville)

5.)What are you afraid of?
(inspired by Life With Kaishon)

#1 - I'm currently suffering from two deadly syndromes. I don't know which will get me first, but I do know that both are fatal.

The first is the dreaded ILMWS (I Love My Wife Syndrome). That means that I miss her a lot when she is forced to stay in the mountains for weeks at a time for business. Unfortunately, I suffer from the lesser rather than the greater version of this syndrome. In the greater version, amo meus uxor maximus, you pine away and eventually fade away due to not eating. In the lesser version, amo meus uxor grunnio, you make a lot of really high calorie food and eventually die from bacon overdose. In either case, the prognosis is not good.

The second syndrome is CAIS (Computer Addicted Idiot Syndrome). You know you have this ugly affliction when you keep thinking "I can read one more blog post before I absolutely positively have to get up and go to the bathroom." and you do this repeatedly until the sprint is on. You also know you are on the verge of progressing into the final stages when you find yourself drooling over ads for new computers, even if you already have several working machines at hand. In the last stage, you stop talking to anyone in real life - often insisting that the people you know from blogging are more real than the annoying ghosts trying to keep you from spending yet more time on the computer.


#2 - The only things I've made by hand in the last couple of weeks are large piles of vegetation like this:

as I cleaned out the volunteer elms and sumac and weeds from the back yard. Of course if we aren't restricted to the last couple of weeks, I always have my patent-pending, Rube Goldberg approved, behind-the-dresser and behind-the-dryer sock recovery tool (you'll have to click on the image to see the full details of the exquisite construction):

Note the full utilization of the the bent coat hanger, duct tape, and a dowel stick to make a tool of extreme beauty. I know you just must have one of these fine tools! {*grin*}

#3 - I'm going to give this a pass. Most of the spying I have dome has been as part of work related activities and isn't meant to be disclosed. I haven't spied (or even stalked) any relatives because I believe that their life is their own to handle in the way they see fit. (Or mess up as they see fit as well.)


#4 - The simple answer is that I'm not doing it all. I am not blogging as much as I did in the past winter. For the nonce, I am generally not posting on the weekends. That is because I have other things to do and it is generally the only time L and I have together. So then the question becomes blog or spouse? If you chose blog, I think you are in the final stages of CAIS. Seek help, immediately.


#5 - Usually not much, but ... This week while doing all the bushwhacking in the back yard brought forth a couple of anxiety producing happenings. (No, I don't mean I tried to chop off a leg or arm with the ax. Cheesh!) When you chop, cut, and pull that much underbrush out, you disturb every bug and crawlie known to man and some not yet known ones as well. There is nothing like the feeling of a few bugs crawling around inside your shirt to induce the rapid removal of same. I don't know how people of the female persuasion do it - having to go inside before removing the shirt and beating the snot out of the creepy crawlies that is. I'm much more in favor of the immediate gratification of just yanking the shirt off and flailing away. How about you? I figure that anyone who looks deserves the nightmares they'll suffer from seeing my bare torso.

Of course, the evening that I whacked and piled all the brush made the backyard into a bird smörgåsbord. There were literally scenes like this one from the Hitchcock classic "The Birds"

going on all over the yard. At twilight, there must have been 300 birds gathered to feast on all the bugs and crawlies that were now exposed. When you see that many birds all staring intently and eating anything that moves, you can really believe that birds are the last of the dinosaurs. My only regret is that it came after it was too dark for me to get some pictures. I think the bird telegraph must have really spread the word that there was a free feast. At least a couple of every kind of bird from around here except for the turkey buzzards (thank heavens - they are the bad neighbor of birds and the largest crappers in the universe) showed up to feast. Wrens and sparrows and crows and bluebirds and swallows and doves and thrushes and ... All getting along with no territorial battles since there was so much food for the pecking.