Strange Encounters of the Botanical Kind

Last summer  I noticed a strange looking new bush planted near the end of the front porch at Mom and Dad's.  It had a very unusual bloom and a spicy scent.  They told me that someone had given it to them and called  it a "Bubby Bush."  I had never seen one before and was curious about it.

A few days later I went to visit Monette and see her new house.  Amazingly, there was another one of the bushes.  She and Beverly had done research on the internet and found it to be a "Carolina Allspice."  When I looked it up I found that it is also called:  Sweet Shrub, Strawberry Shrub, Sweet Betsy, Florida Spice Bush, and Calycanthus floridus.

On our recent trip we saw the same bushes at the famous gardens established by the Duponts and Jennie exclaimed, "My grandmother had one of these by the back door!"

  Well Jennie, we now have "Bubby Bushes" of our own. Monette brought me two of them.  Yours is potted up and waiting for you.

Luci

Facebook Foto Finds ( Good and Bad )

As I’ve said before, my favorite feature of Facebook is the photo application where a lot of folks share their family photos.  The Guinea Girls in Florida have posted a lot of pictures over the past few months.   Here are a few of my recent favorite finds:

Unfortunately, there is a downside to browsing Facebook too.  This series of pictures in one of Crystal’s albums has triggered my Ski Biscuit Nightmares all over again… Just when I thought I could maybe end the twice-weekly therapy sessions with my shrink, after twenty years of treatment,  I get thrown back to square one.  I haven’t slept in three nights now. I understand Florida was home to the woman thought to be the nation’s first female serial killer.  I suspect Crystal may be Florida and the nation’s first female serial ‘Ski Biscuit’ killer.  From the photos on her Facebook account, it looks like she has had several victims recently.  I hope the authorities in Florida can stop this carnage soon.  She needs to be locked away for a long, long time.

Clyde

Hey, I’m Not the Only One

Jennie and I were in Richmond watching Emerson one weekend a few months ago when we all decided to watch a movie Emerson had gotten.  The movie was a Disney cartoon called ‘UP’.  The three of us piled onto the couch, with Emerson sitting in the middle, and fired up the movie.

‘UP’ wasn’t like the Disney cartoons I remember from my younger days.  Ten minutes into it, big tears started welling up in my eyes.   I was trying my best not to let Jennie and Emerson see that I was crying but it soon became more than I could manage.  Emerson, sitting beside me, could tell that I was sobbing,  blubbering like a baby actually, and he yelled out, “Grandpa!”  

I was mortified, real men don’t cry at movies, especially not cartoon movies.  To make matters worse, I sobbed two or three  more times before the movie was over.  My rough and tough reputation was ruined.  I think Emerson enjoyed watching me suffer more than watching the movie.

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Well, today I found something that makes me feel a lot better.  I ran across an article at ScreenJunkies.com entitled 10 Movies That Make Real Men Cry.  Guess what the fifth movie listed was.  That’s right, ‘UP’.  Turns out I must not be the only Real Man it has brought to tears.  I feel so much better. 

 

UP   The most recent film on this list, the 8 minute prologue of Up stands as cinematic perfection. The incredibly effective “Married Life” montage (set to Michael Giacchino’s Oscar-winning score) succeeds in telling an entire life story before the first act of the feature truly begins. In this short period, we see a marriage bloom and wilt, forcing an old man to come to grips with an unfulfilled promise as his lifelong best friend and wife passes. From www.screenjunkies.com on May 25, 2010

 

I’m not sure what to think about the fact that I’ve cried while watching six of the movies listed.  And three of the other four I haven’t seen yet.   It’s getting harder and harder to maintain my ‘Real Man’ cred these days.

Clyde

Strawberry Picking

We have a wonderful strawberry patch thanks to Jim’s Mom and Dad. We invited Luci and Chris down last week and this weekend we had Shawn and Jennifer.  Jennifer is a strawberry picking machine!  We picked and made over 21 jars of jam for her and Shawn.

While we were working I would say, “Now Mr. and Mrs. Spickler would like this strawberry, or this jam, or these berries, and Jennifer would say, "Why are you talking about Mr. and Mrs. Spickler?  Talk about Jennifer might like this strawberry, or this jam, or these berries.”
By the end of the day she had trained me right. I was saying “Jennifer” every time I would say “Strawberry”.  I hope she and Shawn had a good time, and Zoey their baby boxer.  I know we did.

Michelle

Next StalkerClan Book ?

I hadn't even begun to think about a new StalkerClan Book for this year yet.  Things have been so slow on the website this year that I doubt there will be enough stories.  In Jeffrey’s tale the other day about the chocolate bar she suggested a possible cover story though.  That got me to thinking and I can see something like the following showing up in the StalkerClan Bookstore someday.

I’m Ruined! The Unauthorized Biography of Randy Ratliff By Clyde Stalker

Price:  $33.30 Ships in 10–15 business days Eligible for FREE Summer Shipping on orders over $49.95 HARDCOVER Version. Our favorite stories about our favorite sweet-tooth including… Chocolate Butt at Wal-Mart The Lesson of the Four Pennies Old Number Seven The Pathfinder in the Mud Bog Make a Joyful Racket Circus Peanuts, Candy Corn, and Pop Tarts on Ice Cream Shallow Randy "Well, we won't have HIM to deal with today." How he nicknamed Cody "Tape Worm" The Hilarious Salt Water Fishing License Viag-Randy How he came to be called ‘Old Two Hands’ and many more. You’ll love these great stories from Randy and Jeff's Combination Fish Farm, Comedy Barn, Homeless Shelter, and Reform School.  If there’s one lesson you’ll take away from this fascinating  life story it’s… Never Marry a Woman With a Man’s Name.

THE PING PONG TABLE

I remember while we were enjoying our pool table, Clyde had an idea of getting a ping pong table.  Dad wouldn't agree with it cause there wasn't enough room in the basement for two game tables.
When school turned out the next day, instead of waiting in the bus line for the bus, I always went out in town and looked around in the stores.  While I was looking around in Sykes Drug Store, I noticed they had kits that read "Turn Your Pool Table Into a Ping Pong Table" on the outside of it. What a coincident!
I counted how many kits there were.  Somewhere around this time period, my sixth-grade teacher, Oma Belcher, who was also Clyde's first-grade teacher, was the cashier out there. When I got finished looking around I started back to the bus line.

When I got home and we were at the dinner table eating supper I said, "Clyde, Sykes Drug Store sells kits were you can turn a pool table into a ping pong table."
The next day when school turned out, I wanted to know if Clyde took my advice and purchased one of them. I didn't think the kits would be good sellers, cause hardly nobody had pool tables.  When I got out there I counted the kits and, sure enough, one of them was gone. I said to myself, "I am going to guess when I get home Clyde will have that pool table turned into a ping pong table.” I was right!
I remember we never had four people playing at the same time.  The kit came with four paddles.  I got one of them and took it up into the house and used it to play a paddle game with Michelle.  I have to admit, seems like she got just as much enjoyment out of me playing paddle with her as the enjoyment we got out of the ping pong table.

Sherry

Emily Lou’s Sixth Birthday

( I can’t believe it has been six years already since this story was posted on the Old StalkerClan. )

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Here are the photo's everyone has been waiting on......

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Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

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In the most recent photo I can find of her, it looks like she has grown a little…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMILY LOU

THE POOL TABLE

I remember back when we were growing up, Dad purchased a used pool table.  We kept it in the basement. 

The only funny thing I can remember about it was when I was playing a game with Joe.

While we were playing, the score was tied.  I had two balls in and Joe had two balls.  It was my turn and I shot and got another ball in the pocket.  I said, "Now, Joe, I am ahead of you by one."

Joe said, "Yeah, half of your hits were hit accidentally."

The next shot I got two in and Joe said in an excited voice, "Hey, I know that was an accident cause it would have taken an expert to figure that out!"

Sherry

Increasing My Inheritance

My share of the Stalker Family Inheritance got a boost this week.  Thank goodness because my 401k won’t cover the cost of a pair of 501 jeans anymore.

I went with Mom, Dad and Carlos on their annual cemetery rounds.  We went to the Wilson Cemetery and put flowers on Aunt Virgie, Maggie and Homer’s graves.   We ran out of gas in the Weed-eater so a return trip will be needed. 

We drove by Dow Brooks next and put a new flag at Uncle Joe’s headstone.  While we were doing that Mom noticed that there were some flowers in Dad’s end of their headstone, but none in her end.  That tore her up.

“Who could have done such a thing?  You didn’t do that did you?” she asked me.

“No Mom.  You know I would make sure there was flowers on your side, and prettier flowers too.”

She thought for a minute and then said, “Must have been one of those concubines of his.”

About that time I got an idea.  I bent over the flowers, pushed them around a little bit and, fibbing just a bit more, said to Mom, “Hey, there’s a tag here.  It says, ‘From Your Four Loving Daughters.”

My share of the inheritance doubled, right there on the spot.  I figure that new motorized wheel chair will probably get me the rest of it.

Clyde

Testing the Wheel Chair Ramp

Michelle seems to be the only one who believed the photo of Mom’s Wheel Chair Ramp that I posted earlier so I figured I would go to Road Creek and take a few more pictures.  Just like I told everyone, the ramp starts at the door to the carport and runs level all the way across it…

At the outside of the carport, it slopes down and ends under one of the metal sheds where Sherry parks Mom’s car…

There’s also a set of stairs that exit down to the carport for frequent trips to the deep freezers lined up there…

I’m sure you know who is trying to take credit for all the work done to get it built…

But I found out who the real carpenter was…

With the wheelchair company coming today to check everything out we figured a test of the ramp was needed.  I let Mom hold my camera while I tried to push her across and down the ramp in a regular wheelchair.  It didn’t go quite like I expected…

I caught up with her right at the creek.  Thank goodness for those big crossties at the edge of the bridge. 

I’m wondering if maybe we could charge people for rides?  What do they charge for tickets to The Beast at Kings Island?

Clyde

I’m Ruined !

(I haven’t been on the clan in a while, but I just couldn’t let this classic story go untold.  I know this will be one of the all-time greats. Might even make the cover of Clyde’s next book.)

One day a few weeks ago, the school called me and said that Emily had an earache, no fever, just pain.  I decided it would be best to go during my one-hour lunch break and get her some pain reliever to get

her through the day and, after work, take her to the doctor.  While I was at CVS picking up the pain reliever, I grabbed a bag of miniature chocolate bars.  I knew lunch was out of the question and the chocolate bars would help me get through the afternoon.

At school, I ran into Troy, a friend who was working at my house. We talked a little and then I went on in to give Emily her medicine.  After that, I went to get my taxes done.  Too much to do in one hour.  So, as I was getting out of my car, I grabbed the open bag of candy bars and went back to work.

After work, Randy met me at the office and said he wanted to go with me to take Emily to see the doctor.  I informed him that I also needed to go pick up some paper goods for a family who had just lost a loved one. He came up with a great plan.  He would drop me off at the doctor, and then he would run to Wal-Mart and get the paper goods.  Sounded good to me.

After the visit with the doctor, Emily, Blair and I sat on the bench waiting for Granddad.  He pulled up and we hopped in.  Immediately he held up his arm and showed me a very large brown streak he had on it.  I looked at it and laughed.  It looked like crap.  He quickly said, “I know what you are thinking and you are wrong. It is chocolate.  I know because I smelled of it. Do you have anything I can wipe it off with?”

Now I still had not figured it out.  I got out and fished the Wet Ones out of the trunk and cleaned him up.  All the while he is going on about how he must have gotten it at Wal-Mart.  But where in Wal-Mart? Was it the shopping cart?  Just where did he get it?  The mystery of where it came from was on.
Now that we were all back in the car, and everyone was very hungry, Granddad made a great suggestion, “Let’s all go to Corky Bell’s.”  His favorite place to eat seafood. 

We all agreed and off we went.  We got THE TALK about being good, using our manners, sitting still in our seats, and not talking too loud.  And every once in a while he would get in a, “I still can’t figure out how I got that chocolate on me.”

We arrived at Corky Bell’s and walked inside.  The children and I were in front and we walked on back to our seats.  I turned to see Randy, but he was not behind me.  I looked back at the door and I could see that he was going towards the restrooms.  No big deal, we would just wait for him.

Ten minutes later he comes and sits down in his seat.  His face has this look of pure mortification on it.  It is hard to explain just how mortified he looked.  I asked him what was wrong?

He looked at me and said, in a voice that sounded as though he could not believe what had just happened to him, “You won’t believe this.  The waitress tapped me on the shoulder and said,  ‘Sir, I think you need to know that you have a candy bar stuck to your butt.”

The children and I could not contain our laughter. Not only were we loud, but we could not sit still. Our whole bodies shook.  This was just too much!

Again he went over in his mind, just where in Wal-mart did he get this on him. Then he let the one thing out that ruined my day, “And you know what? It still had the wrapper on it.”

I could not resist, “What kind of candy bar was it, honey?”

“You know, the little miniature ones.”

At that very moment, my life flashed before me.  I knew what had happened. One of my candy bars had dropped out in my seat and set in my hot car all afternoon.  Now I was ruined for sure.  I said nothing.  Just sat and listened as my poor husband tried to figure out where on earth in Wal mart did he get a candy bar on his butt?

Needless to say, his food did not taste good and he wanted to get home ASAP.  As we were getting out of the car at the post office, so that he could get back in his and drive it home, I heard him say one more time, “Where in Wal-mart?”

I looked him in the eyes, knowing we would be in separate cars for a few minutes,  and mustered up all the bravery I had in me and said,  “Baby you best stop worrying about where you got the candy bar.  If you find out, you might hurt someone you love!”

“I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT HAD TO BE YOU! “

About this time I crawled into my car and drove away, praying that he would be over it by the time we got home.

The next morning I got up, went into the kitchen and poured us a cup of coffee.  I walked into the bedroom to see my husband with his hands on his hips.  A light bulb must have gone off in his head and he looked at me and said, “I just thought about something!  I went all the way through Wal-Mart with a candy bar on my butt!  That explains a lot. That is why a security guard came up to me and asked me if I needed anything?  No one in Wal-Mart has ever asked me if I needed anything.”

Jeff

LOST in 108 Seconds

Jennie and Matt got hooked on the TV show LOST early on.  They have watched it religiously for six seasons now.   I never took to it and when it came on I usually went to fire up my computer and surf the internet.  Luckily, I ran across this video today at the TIME Magazine site that clearly explains everything that has happened in every episode of LOST  in just 108 seconds. ( NOTE: There may be a short commercial included, sorry about that. )

That all seems pretty straight forward and logical to me.  I think I am now just as ready as Jennie and Matt to watch the big series finale this weekend. ( I’m betting on the Dallas scenario…  Jack wakes up on the plane and it has all been a dream. )

Clyde

Mom’s Wheel Chair Ramp

Michelle and Luci wanted me to post a photo of Mom’s new wheelchair ramp.   Dad and Carlos built it and they may have gone a little overboard.

I think Mom will be OK with it.  We will have to make sure her chair has good brakes though.

Clyde

ROASTED MARSHMALLOWS – Stalker Style

I didn't know Dad liked roasted marshmallows. I was up at the dollar store, the marshmallows were on sale -  buy one get one at half price. I purchased two bags. I thought if we didn't use them I would save them for Stalker Days and have a marshmallow roast.  Mother was going to put them away and I said, "I didn't get them to give away."
Mother said, "They're in the way."
I asked Dad if he wanted a roasted marshmallow and he said, "Yes."
I went to the stove and turned it on and tried to roast some. I had a hard time and made a mess.
Today Dad was sitting in his chair, he told Carlos to go get his propane can. When Carlos gave him the can he attached a welding wand to it and lit it.  I said, "Why are you doing that?"
He said, "To roast marshmallows!"

I went and got the marshmallows and we roasted what we wanted and he turned it off.

I know now not to give our marshmallows away.

Sherry

Tazer Target

Matt is going to a major league baseball game this weekend.  I'm afraid we may see something like this on ESPN SportsCenter Monday morning…




I suspect this time the debate won't be "Was this Excessive Force?"

Happy Birthday Leigh Ann

Bryan’s girlfriend Leigh Ann is having a birthday today…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEIGH ANN !

Take a Deep Breathe If You Can.

As babies,  it seemed that instead of learning the correct names for our body parts, we were expected to learn about poultry.  Adults would confuse us by touching our forehead and proclaiming it to be a rooster, our nose was said to be a pullet and then our chin was called a hen.  The test of our intelligence came when we were asked, "What did I say this was?" (while pointing to our nose).  Of course, if you correctly answered "Pullet" they would take great delight in pulling your nose.  Joe and Willie never tired of this game.  As long as Mom and Dad kept supplying them with victims, they would keep on torturing them. I wonder if they were as cruel to their own kids. What is the statute of limitations on child abuse?

As soon as you could walk, anytime any adult noticed you, they grabbed your nose and then stuck their thumb between two fingers and exclaimed, "I got your nose." You were then expected to chase them endlessly trying to retrieve your missing body part.

When you add to these favorites, Maw Rachel's custom of pushing the end of your nose down and then pinching your nostrils together to keep you from getting a big nose, I wonder "How did we manage to reach puberty with our noses intact?"  How many of us have deviated a septum, use C Pap machines, snore like chainsaws, and/or wear Breath Right nose strips 24-7?  But hey, we do have good looking noses.

Thanks, Maw Rachel.

Luci

A Day of Rest

After working in the yard and doing taxes, I got up Sunday morning thankful for a day of rest and determined to make it to Sunday School and church.  My friend Juanita is the Sunday School teacher and she had been working on a special lesson.  The church service was going to be a cantata put on by the choir.

After trying on several pairs of pants with no success, I briefly considered the body controllers I wore to Shawn's wedding. No way!  The hem of the top rolled up to my chest and restricted my breathing.  The waistband on the bottom rolled down around my hips and restricted my movement.  Needless to say, my belly popped out like a can of biscuits when you open them.   I looked like a cross between a zombie and Buddha, suffering from oxygen deprivation and shuffling around the Church.  I'll never be that desperate again.

Then I remembered the Spanx I purchased at the Q Store when Michelle and I went to Tennessee.   According to Oprah, they are wonderful.  I took them out of the package and they looked like a pair of newborn baby tights.  I looked at the package and according to the chart, they were my size. The chart telling you what size to get obviously did not take into account the Stalker physique.  We don't exactly carry our weight in our ankles and wrists.

After about 20 minutes of twisting, tugging, squeezing and pulling, they were on my body.  OK, now the test.  Miracle of Miracles, I got into a pair of pants.  My top fit without the usual roll hanging out.  I was deliriously happy but running late.  I didn't have time for breakfast but planned to grab something from the breakfast bar at church.  Just as I was heading out the door it struck me that I need to go to the bathroom.  Somehow once your clothes are on and you have worked up a little sweat the Spanx are ten times as hard to get back where they belong.  I pulled and twisted in the car all the way to church.  I ran by the breakfast bar and grabbed a yogurt but when I got to the classroom, I was the last one there.  I shoved the yogurt in my purse thinking I should have time to eat it before the cantata starts.

I  spent the hour of Sunday School cursing myself for drinking so much coffee. When it ended, I headed straight for the restroom.  Thank God I made it!  All is right with the world. Then it was time to pull them up.  The next twenty minutes in that tiny stall were like an Ultimate Fighting Champion match. (The fights that take place in a cage where anything goes.)  I lost. Spanked by the Spanx. When I finally got them up, I said another little prayer, thanking God that there was no one else in there to hear me cursing.

No time for yogurt, the cantata has started.  My belly growled louder than the soloist but with an upbeat tempo. By the time I got home, the Spanx which were supposed to fit from your knees to your chest were about 2 inches wide but at least I could breathe, so I guess that is some improvement over my previous experience.

When God gave us the same day to rest and worship, Spanx hadn't been invented.

Luci

A Fantastic Gift Idea

I run across some surprising things on the Internet.

The Better Marriage Blanket Dampens Farts to Save Lives Relationships Is flatulence ruining your love life? My friends, look no further than the Better Marriage Blanket, a fart-absorbing wünderspread that means you'll never again have to blame it on the dog. This is a real thing!   Remember, it's got activated carbon fabric: "the same type of fabric used by the military to protect against chemical weapons." You know, in case you're tooting mustard gas. Found at Gizmodo

Gosh, I wish I had known about this before Shawn and Jennifer’s marriage.  What a great wedding gift this would have been.

Clyde