An Easter Story

I first posted this here in 2012.  It remains one of my favorite Easter stories.....

A man was driving down a country road on a beautiful spring day when a rabbit ran out in front of his car.  He tried to swerve, but felt a bump and knew that he had hit it. When he stopped and went back to the flattened bunny, one look told him it was gone. 

Then he noticed the basket.

“Oh no!” he cried, “I’ve killed the Easter Bunny.”

Just then another car stopped and a young lady got out to see what was the matter.  When he explained what happened, she told him she thought she could help.

She went back to her car, dug in a grocery bag and came back with a bottle. She dumped the contents on the rabbit and rubbed it vigorously into its fur.

All of a sudden the rabbit jumped up, grabbed the basket and hopped off down the road.  After it had gone about fifty feet, it stopped and waved.  Then it hopped a little farther and turned to wave again, continuing to hop and wave until it was out of sight.

“That was amazing.” said the fellow. “What is that stuff?”

She held up the now empty bottle of conditioner so he could read the label.  “See.” she said “Restores lifeless hair and adds a permanent wave.”

Colored Chicks

I try to think of myself as a good person - non-judgemental, with malice toward none.  Most of the time, I am, but sometimes the imp of the perverse rears his evil little head.

This morning, someone put a post on the local classifieds asking, "Does anyone know where I can find some cheap colored chicks?"

God help me,  my first reaction was "Jensen Drive between Quitman Street and Collingsworth."

 

Chuckle

Bunny Bruise

One of the more annoying costs of getting old is the requirement that I must take a blood thinner. I complain about it a lot.  It doesn't really hurt anything, but it does leave me with a lot of unexplained bruises. 

I have sworn that a butterfly could land on my arm and leave a bruise, and I have also warned my loving wife that I could accuse her of elderly abuse at any time and have the evidence to prove it.  The doctor who prescribed the stuff isn't very compassionate - just tells me to wear long shirts.

I woke up this morning with a new bruise decorating the back of my hand.

 Just in time for Easter, I'm sporting a silhouette of the Easter Bunny!

Possum Ivy

I finished the weed eating around the fence line yesterday.  It didn't take long, and I did not break a sweat, so I didn't shower as usual when I was done.  I just brushed off and came in the house.  

I did wash my hands and arms when I came in, but it may have been too little too late.

When I woke this morning I had two spots that are itching like crazy - one on my left forearm and one on the back of my right index finger.  I'm almost sure they are the result of poison ivy, so I'm going to start a two-pronged attack with Benadryl and Calamine Lotion.

Of course, it could have been worse.  Sixty years ago, as part of an Order of the Arrow initiation, a fellow boy scout spent the night sleeping in a patch of what he called "Possum Ivy" at Camp Strake and had to be hospitalized the next day.

The Best Answer

Without going into too much detail, I've been looking for a nice restaurant - someplace to take friends - in a town that I've been to before but don't know well.

I'd tried Google and Yelp with only limited success, so I turned to RV.net for suggestions.  

I explained the situation, and the sort of place I was looking for, someplace not too fancy with excellent food, and got several helpful replies.  One reply wasn't so helpful, but it did make me laugh.  

A guy from Virginia said, "Whataburger.  As soon as we cross into Texas, we start looking for a Whataburger, and stop at the first one we can find!"

If the Shoe Fits

A Facebook friend posted a picture of one of these devices, asking if we remembered when store clerks actually measured your feet before selling you a pair of shoes. 

That experience is rapidly going by the wayside, and shoe stores are apparently not far behind - Payless announced this week that they are closing 140 stores. In this age of on-line shopping, convenience seems to have won out over the comfort of properly fitted footwear.

I am old enough to not only remember that mechanical device, I remember sticking my feet in an X-ray machine to see how the new shoes fit.

You put on the new shoes, then placed your feet in the slot, and X-rays shot up through them from the bottom.  These un-shielded devices generated X-rays about midway between the power of a mammogram and a chest X-ray.  Probably safe enough for a kid who only got new shoes once or twice a year, but they had to be hell on shoe salesmen who ever wanted to father children.