Grandma Annie

This morning I found the last jar of sweet pickle relish that my Grandma Anie made. It's still good after all these years, she had been gone nearly 7. I don't know what to do with it. It's delicious, the best relish I have ever tasted, but I'm not sure I can handle the finality of it being the last jar.

I am not even close to being over losing my Grandma Annie, I was just getting to know her when she died. In 2002 I moved to Louisiana to help my grandparents when Grandma Annie was sick. I figured up that before I moved here I had spent 5 weeks with them that I could remember spread out over several years. They needed my help and although I did not realize it at the time I needed their help more. Those of you that really know me already know that story, and I'm not going to get into it here, just know that if I had went to Louisiana in 2002 I would not be here today writing this.

I spent hours with Grandma Annie while I was with her right her in this house I am writing from. I learned about the old days, how her and grandpa met, where she'd been and where she still wanted to go. I got to know my Grandma Annie in the last 6 months of her life. In doing that I learned what the important things in life really are, and my life totally changed. It needed to.

I heard hours upon hours of stories about everything from growing up to getting old. I loved every one. I did not offer her any stories of mine, she would not have approved of any of them.

We talked about movies one day and she mentioned that her favorite movie was driving Miss Daisy. I went and got it, helped her to her rocking chair and we watched it together. Her face lit up like I had never seen. The next week was my birthday and she was upset. When I asked her what was wrong she said she wished she was well enough to bake me a cake. I told her I did not need a cake, birthdays don't mean a thing to me.

A week later she was gone.

I was mad at myself for not coming sooner. I was furious with god for taking her. I felt cheated because I was just getting to know her.

Throughout the time I lived with my grandparents about once a week we would eat vegetable beef soup that Grandma Annie had made and canned. When you "can" something it's in a jar, I say this for any of the younger generation who may not understand that. The soup was delicious, Campbell's could never come close to it. After she died grandpa and I continued our weekly tradition of soup. Then the night came when it was the last jar. We sat through a silent dinner that night with tears pouring down our faces. It was so final, there would never be anymore soup made by Grandma Annie.

Now it's the last jar of pickle relish. Grandpa told me to throw it away. I can't do that. I don't think I can eat it either. It's the last jar, and I don't want to associate that kind of pain with hot dogs, I love hot dogs.

I know she is OK, she told me she was. Many of you reading this will think I'm crazy but that's alright. Like Waylon said, I've always been crazy but it's kept me from going insane.

Diamond Rio has a song called "I Believe". Every time it came on the radio I cried. One day driving home it came on the radio and I had to pull over because I was crying to hard to drive. As clear as anything I heard my grandma Annie's voice say "Son you need to stop crying, I'm O.K"

To anyone who does not believe there is a heaven, all I have to say is I know there is. I know God and Grandma Annie are watching, I sure hope I don't let them down.

A Dishwasher, A Spider, and Jesus

Yesterday afternoon I faced a serious moral dilemma. After I was done loading the dishwasher I noticed a tiny little spider inside. His eight little spider legs were struggling mightily to gain a purchase on the slippery plastic of the inside of the dishwasher. Everyone knows I am terrified of spiders, I hate them and they can make me pee when I don't want to pee. I also don't like killing anything at this point in my life. I am to old and have been through to much pain to willingly inflict pain on another living creature, hated or not.

I did a lot of thinking between the time I loaded the dishwasher and the 3 or so hours later before I started the dishwashing process. Was there a way I could remove the spider without causing death or serious injury to myself or others? Perhaps long tweezers with just the right amount of tension so not to squeeze the little creature to death. Maybe a little jar to trap him inside. Let's be serious here, I was not about to pick the thing up with my hands. It would have bit me and I would have died, I am sure of it.

It seems that Jesus looked down and saw my struggle. He chose to help me out. When I opened the dishwasher to look before I started it running the little spider was nowhere to be seen...........

I sincerely hope he escaped through the drain before I unleashed a watery hell the likes of which he had never imagined on him.

The Mustang- Part 1

Life At The Mustang, Part 1

For a period of time over 10 years ago I worked at a little gas station called "The Mustang Market". It was actually a pretty cool place to work. It's where I met both of the people I call my best friends. I worked the night shift at the "Mustang", as we referred to it. It could get boring at times, especially in the winter when the wind chill was -40 and it was blizzard conditions outside. Two friends of mine named Mike and Sarah used to hang out at the store with me, it helped with the boredom. We also had another guy named Matt Bride that hung out there a lot. Now ol' Matt is a chapter unto himself. Here's a few things to know about Matt.

I called him "smaid" since the first day I met him, it drove him totally fucking crazy because he could not figure out why. After about a year I finally told him. Everyone else got it, I bet most of you have gotten it by now as well. His last name was Bride, I called him Smaid, put them together........... Matt liked to make little bombs out of tinfoil and black powder. He also had a hard lump tumor on his skull that was drained but not removed, it had a hole in the top like a cracked egg. I swear to god I am not making this up. To say that Matt was "a bit unusual" is putting it mildly. He was fascinated by bombs and destruction. I have no idea where he is now but I hope he is in custody.

One night in our boredom Matt, Mike, and I learned that if you get gummy worms wet they will stick to whatever you throw them at. It was a war for the ages..... Imagine 3 men in their early 20's running around the inside of a gas station in the middle of the night tossing wet gummy worms at each other, shooting to kill. I will never forget the moment Matt died as a hero, he was pinned down in the backroom under heavy fire and he made a break for it. Poor Matt got maybe 6 inches out the doorway when Mike threw the shot heard 'round the world. It stuck dead center of Matt's forehead and literally stunned him so bad he fell to the floor. I still laugh about the look on his face when that moist gummy worm made contact over 10 years later.

Another game played at the Mustand was to coat some random item in the store with Vaseline and take bets on if a customer or an employee found it first. It was good wholesome entertainment.

I had what some might refer to as an attitude problem back then. Anyone who came into my store thinking "the customer is always right" was in for a rude awakening. I was a jerk, but then again with the shift I worked at a gas station right off 2 major interstate highways that was probably a good thing. I was the "2am" nazi. In Iowa you have to stop selling alcohol at 2am. I kept the alarm on my watch set and the rule was enforced with an iron fist. I refused to sell alcohol to drunks, which is also illegal, they got pretty pissed about that. Most of the kids that worked there just sold it to them, not me. I said no for the sheer joy of it.

My favorite was the kids that were obviously underage coming in to try to buy beer or tobacco. After about a week at the store you can spot them right away. They look around a lot, wander the aisles until they are the only customer in the store and then approach you trying to buy whatever they wanted. I LOVED these customers. I would set whatever they wanted beside the register and ring up the sale and tell them the total. As they were handing me the money with a happy look on their pimply little face I'd say "Oh yeah, I need to see your I.D.". The happy face went away instantly and it made me smile.

I had customers swing at me, scream at me, and cry. I loved every second of it.

To be continued..................

How To Stimulate The Economy. (Cucumbers and Melons)

Whenever you go to the store you will see a wide variety of products for women that are cucumber melon scented. I am not sure who first decided that this combination should be put together and worn by the female of the species but it happened. These products are not cheap, some are very expensive.

Yesterday I saw a woman on the food network cutting up melons and cucumbers, then she washed her hands. That got me thinking. Why didn't she just dab the juice behind her ears and all of the little other places that women put smells. It would have saved her money that day.

I have a new plan to stimulate the economy. Instead of women buying all these fancy cucumber and melon products they should just buy a cucumber and a melon.

They could then juice these products and place the juice in a spray bottle available at any Wal-Mart for 97 cents.

Total investment is about $5 and they will have enough cucumber melon product to last nearly a year in my estimation. This will sell more produce helping California out of it's financial trouble and at the same time save Americans billions of dollars in products every year.

The companies that make these cucumber melon products have enough other wares for sale that they will be able to survive the lack of cucumber melon scent sales. It's a win/win for everyone involved. When I am president I will see to it that this plan is put into effect.