STUPID THINGS WE'VE DONE OR HEARD 

This page is just what the title indicates.  It'll be updated on an irregular basis just like the rest of the site, and will include some embarrassing "learning experiences" that we've had as well as things we've either observed or heard about.  The dates simply indicate the last time I was in here making changes.

January 17, 2006

What is it with me?  Why am I the only one in this family that does the stupid things?  Well, truth be told, I think I'm the only one that admits it!

Like the other day when I was cleaning a couple of fish.  See, I built this neat little fish cleaning station out behind the Road Abode.  See here for pictures of it, if you missed it.  By the way, since it was built I've painted it, so it's not so garish anymore.

Anyway, I'd managed to catch a couple of nice topsail catfish, and decided to keep them to see if we liked the flavor.  Seems the jury is out on the flavor of saltwater catfish.  One was pretty good sized and the other a bit smaller.  I had them both on the table, and was busying myself with the larger fish, making sure I removed the poisonous spines and all that goes into skinning a fish, when I noticed the smaller one was nowhere to be found.  Yup, it had escaped down that 4" chute I'd installed leading back into the canal.  Oh, well, maybe next time I'll just clean one fish and then get the second one up there.

January 15, 2006

Coconuts.  All over the place.  Wilma (the hurricane) blew down coconuts all over the park, and we have a bunch of them in the yard for one reason or another.  When Barb and a neighbor lady were cleaning up so we could re-open the park, she brought home a "lovely bunch of coconuts" to put over a stump that was a real toe-grabber.  Anyway, a neighbor came over to give us a coconut he'd shucked.  Now, why somebody would go to the trouble to shuck a coconut and not crack it open and eat the contents themselves, is a bit beyond me, but that's what happened. 

Barb had never tasted coconut milk, nor eaten it out of the shell except for what she'd bought in the store one time.  For some time she'd been asking me to get her some of the milk so she could taste it, and then crack the nut so we could have fresh coconut.  And today was the day.  I drilled a small hole in it, being careful to keep the wood out of the meat and all that, and drained some in a cup for her to taste.  Now she knows why I'm not running around milking coconuts, so to speak.  Not the best flavor in the world.  But then, she wants the nut cracked open.  So I get a hammer, line the coconut up so the split will be up and down, and give it a good whack.  And it split.  But not up and down.  It split across, and only partially.  Just enough to grab a good hunk of skin on one of my fingers.  And then it tried to spring back into shape.  With my finger firmly wedged in the crack!  So firmly, as a matter of fact, that I had to get a screwdriver to pry my finger back out!  Luckily, it grabbed enough of the finger that I don't have a blood-blister, but just barely.  Gonna be a bit tender for a while I think.  Yeah, I finished the job and she got her fresh coconut and shared it with neighbors besides.  What a guy won't do to keep his lady happy, eh?

November, 2005

My brother-in-law Guy Demers knew I was looking for a one-cup coffee maker, because I really like my coffee fresh.  So, one day here comes a wonderful one-cup coffee maker from Brookstone, delivered by UPS.  Dirt simple to operate.  Pour a cup (that came with the unit) of water into the top, put a scoop (also provided) of coffee into the little re-usable filter (great cost savings....... eventually), close the lid, push the button and in about 3 minutes, there's the fresh very hot coffee.  Just like I like it.

Then the other day, I got up a bit earlier than usual, and made myself a wonderful cup of...........  hot water.  Forgot the darn coffee!  Barb got more than her share of giggles out of that one!

August, 2003

Left a parking place with the electrical umbilical cord plugged in, and later ran over my folding table.  See August 17, 2003.  The learning experience continues!

May 2, 2003

Can't believe I haven't added anything to this since nearly 2 years ago!  All kinds of stupid things have happened to us in that time, but I just didn't add them here.  I won't talk about the way I stupidly blew away all those pictures from the website, because I don't know how I did it.  But I will talk about driving away thinking the Road Abode was going to follow us.  I think I told the story in the Journal, but here goes anyway.  We were traveling north on I-5 from CA to WA, and that takes us through OR.  About 1/4 mile off the freeway in Springfield, OR, is the International dealer that built Moby Dick.  Whenever we're in the area we stop by to harass the salesman, Brian Kelly, and ask dumb questions of Brooke, the expert service advisor.  On this trip we were having some work done on the truck, so we parked for a night or two of free parking.  It's always very quiet behind the shop and quite safe as well.  Work was done on the truck, I backed it back into the trailer, felt the hitch make it's "clunk-click" noise, and went inside for the remainder of the evening.  Next morning I plugged in the brake/light cable, the breakaway cable, and went inside the shop to tell everybody goodbye and thanks.  Brian followed me out, and another couple who were in for some work came over to say goodbye as well.  Barb got in the Jeep, I put it in gear and punched the throttle.  As soon as I did, I heard this huge "BANG" from out back, and hit the brakes.  Hopped out about the time everybody congregated at the back of the truck to see the hitchpin on the trailer sitting there on the bed of the truck.  Yup, I hadn't checked to make sure the "clunk-click" had really done it's thing......and it hadn't.  Fortunately for us, the truck sides are 1" to 1 1/2" lower than the distance from the hitch pin to the bottom of the nose of the trailer, and other than a small dent in the bed, some torn bedliner, and a broken tailgate, no damage was done.  Got the tailgate re-welded for $50 and it looks good as new, got the bed liner repaired for $200 and it's good as new, and we're down the road without those dents so many 5th wheel trucks have in their sides!  Talk about embarrassing though, with Brian-the-salesman standing right there to watch and never forget!!

June 10, 2001

Why is it that the stupid things are usually mine and not Barbs?  The other morning we were having breakfast and talking about where to go and what to do and that kind of thing.  English muffins were toasted and everything was going along just fine.  I was waiting for the second half of my muffin to pop up and jokingly said to the toaster, "Hey!  You awake?  You working today?  Isn't it about time you did something?"  All this time, Barb sat there and stared at me with this "What am I missing here" kind of look.  I felt pretty smug, having left her in the dust, so to speak, until I realized we'd already eaten all the muffins, and there was nothing else in the toaster, and I'd just made a royal fool of myself.  Major "senior moment" for me; major laughter from both of us.

November 6, 2000

I don't know the "real" name for the gadget, but on my outboard there's a "dead-man" switch.  It's a button that has a dingus attached to it that has a line with a clip on the end.  The idea is that the boat operator will clip the line to himself someplace, and if he falls out of the boat, the line will pull the dingus out of the button, and the engine will stop.  The line is built like a telephone handset cord, in that it's coiled.  I usually leave the line clipped to my lifevest, and stick the extra line into the pocket on the vest.  I've never fallen out of the boat so I can't say anything about how effective the system is.

The other day after coming back to the pier, I climbed out of the boat without leaving my lifevest in it.  As I stood up, I felt a gentle tug, and before I could turn around to see what kind of a critter was bumping into me, I got a thwack on the back of my hand that startled me so much I nearly fell off the pier.  Yup, I'd "tested" my dead-man switch by stretching the cord enough so the dingus let go of its button and came flying back to its pocket, catching me solidly in the process.  Lesson learned.  Barby got to laughing so hard I was hoping she'd fall in.  Since the water is only a couple of feet deep at the pier, it's probably a good thing she didn't.

October 30, 2000

You may have heard (or know from personal experience) that Florida has bugs.  Well, while we've visited Florida several times, this is the first time we've "lived" here.  We're in Avon Park at the Avon Park Air Force Range volunteering as assistant rangers.  Anyway, Barb seems to have whatever it is that bugs like, because they'll almost always bother her before I know they're in the neighborhood.  As a result, she's almost fanatic about keeping them out of the RV.  I get yelled at because I'll leave the door open too long, and she's hardly ever without a tissue within reach so she can capture whichever bug happened to make the mistake of getting within reach.   Oh, and we also have a $2 plastic flyswatter that lives between the TV and the wall of the cabinet. 

The other day I was in the bedroom getting dressed, when she got that "I'm gonna kill that sucker" look in her eye and told me not to move.  She darted out to the living room, grabbed the flyswatter (which she has some French name for--reminds me of "titmouse" but of course is pronounced entirely differently), and came stalking back into the bedroom through the bathroom.  She took a mighty swing at the side of the bed--which has a yellow bedspread on it, and then said something uncomplimentary about the bug not falling to the floor.  Muttering to herself she put the flyswatter back, got a tissue to pick the unfortunately squashed bug from the bedspread, and instead, picked up a piece of dark lint from the side of the bed.  I thought my sides would split.  All that action to pick up a piece of lint.  Oh well.  At least it was good for a chuckle.

August 4, 2000

Ok.  I'll admit it.  I have some prejudices.  But they're geographical.  (And remember, please, that generalities are usually false, including this one).  Like New Yorkers.  I have a filter that says they're difficult to get along with because they lack a certain civility.  They seem to have missed out on their share of politeness.  I can put up with their "attitude," but I really don't like the shouting and lack of respect.  But enough of that.  We had some neighbors pull in maybe the day before yesterday.  I was outside doing something while she was shouting at him in language fit for a dog that you didn't like about the lousy job he was doing with the parking. (Watching people park and enjoying them messing it up is a favorite RV sport.)  Then it was the way he was unhitching the "toad" (that's RV'er talk for whatever is pulled behind the motorhome, i.e., towed) and the way he parked it.  And then the way he was hooking up the utilities.  And he wasn't afraid to yell back at her either.  It would have been ugly except for the fact that I got the impression that they were just New Yorkers and that's the way they talk.  Only when I went to verify it, their license plates are from California.  During all the yelling, a teenage girl and two very large dogs emerged from the motorhome.  A brindle Boxer and a hairy dog whose lineage I didn't recognize.  Except for being totally undisciplined, the dogs were nice enough, and the family kept them on leashes, tied to something, or in these portable cages whenever they were outside.

Tonight we were enjoying a milkshake outside in the shade, when the man got in the truck and started to drive away.  With the boxer tied to it.  We thought that the boxer needed some exercise, (the owners certainly did, as the two women sure haven't missed a meal lately!) but the man seemed to be driving a bit faster than might have been expected, and the dog was tied to the rear bumper and totally out of sight of the driver.  About the time we were getting concerned, the woman came bursting out of the motorhome, running across the grass screaming at the top of her lungs.  Now we were really concerned.  The driveway led around a corner, and toward the office and is a good 300 yards long, including the distance from where the truck had been parked and the office where the pavement begins.  There wasn't much I could do as I couldn't see any kids bike I could borrow, I didn't have the truck keys with me and even if I did it takes a moment or two to get Moby Dick up and running.  Then another neighbor who must have been watching was able to jump into his car and start after the truck.  The dog all this while was running along just fine having a grand old time of it.  The woman was still screaming and running across the lawn as best as someone her size with a house dress can run.  About then the kids who were coming back from the swimming pool across the grass saw what was going on and added their hollering to all the screaming and the driver stopped the truck.  By this time there was probably 100 yards between the screaming woman and the truck.  The driver got out, looked at the woman, looked at the dog, looked at the kids, shrugged his shoulders, unhooked the dog, gave the leash to the kids and drove off.  The woman had gone nearly hoarse by this time, and once Barby and I saw that the dog wasn't going to get dragged to death, we were just cracking up!  Driving off without unhooking something is fairly common and we've probably all done it.  I managed to rip an electrical cord out of our pickup slide-in camper more than once.  Twice in one day, (Barb says it was 3 times) matter of fact!  But not unhooking the dog was a new one for us.

July 18, 2000

While we're driving, we keep water handy in the cupholders on the center console.  I like the insulated 22 oz. mugs because there is minimal spillage and they fit nice and snug in the holder.  I also have a spare sports bottle with the plastic straw that hold about as much and is a "spare" that usually rides in the cupholder on the dash.  When I empty the mug, I just swap places with them, and continue to have water handy.  I'll go through at least two mug/jug combinations in a day's drive, and often more.  That helps remind me to stop and smell the exhaust fumes in the rest stops besides.  That's just a secondary benefit of drinking a lot of water.

Anyway, I'd emptied the mug and had replaced it with the sports jug.  Next time I wanted some water, I picked up the jug, stuck the straw in my mouth and tipped it up as if it was the mug, instantly cooling my chest, stomach and lap with the major leakage that goes on if the jug is tipped on it's side, much less with the bottom higher than the top!  I made no obvious comotion about it and simply replace it in the cupholder.  As I looked at myself to see what damage had been done by the water dribbling rapidly down my front side, Barb was cracking up.  Busted!  I'd been caught red-handed, and felt like a major fool.  Oh, well.

July 6, 2000

The "stuck in the sand" story has already been told, (see June 17) so I won't get into it here.

The first thing that comes to mind did involve the drivers training course, however.  When Mike Steffen was doing his walk around before actually starting the rig, he noticed we had a gas detector.  Along with a smoke detector and a carbon monoxide detector.  We're well detected.  When he asked me how I tested the gas detector, I told him there was a test button.  He explained that the test button would test the physical function of the detector, but how did I know it would really detect any gas?  Then he suggested we take a gas barbeque lighter, you know, those refillable long nosed things that are supposed to keep the hair on the back of your hand when you're lighting the coals, and see if the detector really works.  As you probably also know, if you pull the trigger part way back before the "snap" of the igniter, then gas will escape without burning.

We bought one and pretty soon there I was on my prayer bones under the computer desk.  That's where the gas detector lives.  I was dutifully holding the trigger part way so gas would supposedly escape without burning and make the detector sound off.  No luck.  I wondered if any gas was escaping, and figuring I could hear it if it was, I held the lighter up to my ear.  It was at that exact moment that the trigger snapped the igniter, lighting the accumulated gas as well as my hair.  Without tearing the drawer of the desk out with my head as I jumped with surprise, I quickly put out the fire on my head by slapping it and simultaneously backed out from under the desk.  I immediately realized that no harm had been done, and began to laugh at myself.  Barb was sitting at the table and only heard the slapping, and then saw me doubled over laughing and asked me what had happened.  I was laughing too hard to explain and then the smell of burnt hair got to her, and she figured most of the story out for herself.  It took about 5 minutes of side-ache laughing to get the complete story told.  But next time I'm not going to try to listen to see if any gas is escaping.  For what it's worth, the detector works just fine.