The Front Porch Swing

[chickadoodles]

Quote:

I hear ya! I sold an EE to a man in the early spring and I told him that she laid a large green double yolker egg every day. I don't think he believed me but he has sent alot of his friends to me and they all want a green double yolker egg! lmbo
I get brown in different shades and white and so far one green egg. I want to add pink and blue eggs!

 

[Tomtommom]

I'd send you some hatching eggs, but 1. my shells are questionable. Some are nice and hard, some aren't. Hate to send you scrambled eggs. 2. Mr.Roo is doing a good job, but he's not 100% yet in his 'coverage'.

He's such a handsome fellah though. And very calm.

 

[chickadoodles]

I'd send you some hatching eggs, but 1. my shells are questionable. Some are nice and hard, some aren't. Hate to send you scrambled eggs. 2. Mr.Roo is doing a good job, but he's not 100% yet in his 'coverage'.

He's such a handsome fellah though. And very calm.

I appreciate you thinking of me. But my DH said that is it for breeds this year! He said no more construction EVER! I've wore him out... lmbo

 

[lazy gardener]

My roo doesn't always hit the mark either. Poor girls... after being chased down and pegged to the ground, he struts off, thinking he's quite the 2 x 4 muffin, and she's left thinking... what the..... just happened here????

TTMom: Love the pink egg.

 

[Blooie]

Cigar smoke.... I love it. Every time I smell it I remember my dad.

Dad was an inventor among many other things. We always had a bedroom converted over for his tinkering. He almost always had a cigar clenched in his teeth weather it was burning or not. His mornings started at around 4 am where he would tinker in his "lab" before work. My bedroom was next door. I was always woken early am by the smell of dads Cigar smoke.

He was always tinkering with Electronics building on breadboards. Breadboard are way you tinkered with circuit concepts.... They are filled with holes so you can assemble components and solder the connections.... they are reusable. So I had the smell of Cigar and solder and the occasional curse.....

One morning I heard Curses and the most undeniable smell of burning wiring. The sun wasnt up yet. Brought me bolt upright and I went into his workspace....

"What happened"

"Oh I just blew up two oscilloscopes" He had three.

"Oh no did it ruin your experiment"

"Naw I just have to buy more fuses"

"Ok"

This was before he bought his first computer probably around 1970.

Our first color TV was a Heathkit... He and I built it in the living room, but soldered up the circuit boards in his lab. He would read the wiring diagram and call out resistor values and I would read the codes on the resistors and hand them to him. He would bend the wires at the appropriate distance and feed them into the circuit card and solder them into place. That TV had Vacuum tubes. One of the Oscilloscopes was a Heathkit project.

I miss him terribly. Mom dropped out of high school to marry him. She was seventeen. He was 20.... He passed when he was 69 one year before their 50th Wedding Anniversary.

deb

From what I can see you've done a great job of carrying on the legacy he gave you!

This is starting to look like a pretty nice collection of short stories. For me, I don't have a specific memory, but whenever I smell the combination of mold, damp salty air, and paper, it brings back a sense of nostalgia from when we used to sail with our family in the summers. We had a small boat, which we now sold about five years ago, since my father no longer had the time or energy to take care of it. I remember many things, how a seagull stole a steak from our little camping grill at an island, how a bottle of grill lighting fluid exploded in my fathers hand one time. Or how we used to stop at burger places and ask for a plain burger to feed our dog while searching for a restaurant with a terrace, or one little restaurant with the loveliest yard, where the waiters used to bring our dog a waterbowl and feed him treats in secret. Beautiful islands out in the archipelago that only boaters got to experience, or old military artillery bases converted into harbors. I also remember us weathering through storms, with my father and me handling the boat while my sister and mother where inside complaining that they're sick and us saying that they should come outside. Or completely windless days, when we would only float onward at a speed of half a knot, and the sun burning our skin. There where also quaint little fishing villages out on islands, where you could buy freshly smoked fish and spend the night, and sometimes we used to go ashore at uninhabited islands where hardly no one ever went. So many lovely little memories, I really miss that boat. It wasn't much to look at, but it could maneuver some pretty stiff winds, and you could sail almost straight against the wind. I got to see almost every coastal city our country has during those years.

I can see it so clearly the way you reminisce about it!

Sounds lovely.

Vacations always are the best thing. My parents took us to France one summer, beautiful area... I recall the awful food they bought

(Don't buy pizza in France..) and stopping by the side of the road to eat fresh cherries straight from the tree

Caves and waterfalls.. Ah. Beauty.

I have very vague memories of Germany too.

In later years my mom took us to Spain by bus, 24 hours in a bus... but man, so worth it. The Spanish coast is so incredibly beautiful.


I have some scents that remind me of home, but I can't really pinpoint them. A mix of foods, I'm sure.

France? Spain? Germany? Gee, I'm feeling like hot stuff if I get to go up to Billings! You must have had a great childhood too!

Grain... and wood. Those are the smells that take me back. I used to climb up on the grain barrel (the grains mixed with molasses) and sneak little hand fulls to chew on. One day, the lid on the barrel shifted and tipped up clobbering me in the chops. I got a fat lip, and bruised my front teeth. To this day, there are 2 spots on my front teeth where I suppose extra calcium was laid down as a result of that mis-hap. Too bad the rest of my teeth aren't as white! Then later on, I was never happier than when my Dad took me out on the road with him. He was a building contractor, so we'd visit the job sites, then my day was made in heaven if we got to stop at the old Agway store, and he gave me a quarter to go out back in the grain room and choose some scoops of grain to take home to my chickens.

There's a scent combination that I can't even imagine, but I can see where it would sure evoke strong memories.

 

[OHhappychicks]

Well since everyone has pulled up a bucket, a stool, or a turtle ottoman, it might be time for a Blooie story. I never listen to the radio when I'm driving. It makes me crazy! But Ken drove the van last and I was running a little late for a council meeting. I jumped in the van and headed for town hall, thinking about the meeting instead of the fact that that annoying piece of electronic gear was turned to an oldies station. It's just a few blocks from the house and just as I parked the car one particular song came on the radio. My hand froze on it's way to turn of the ignition switch...

I don't have a lot of happy high school memories, but it is so true that hearing a song can make a memory suddenly leap into your mind with amazing clarity. I dropped out of high school right after my 16th birthday. I turned 16 December 29th, during Christmas break, and never went back. Then in March I met Ken, and 6 days later I had my diamond. We were inseparable for that short time while he was home on leave from Viet Nam, but my dad said that if it was meant to be, it would survive the time we were apart when he went back to Nam.
Mom, my sisters and I were fixing Thanksgiving dinner that November when the phone rang. It was for me. I remember every word of that conversation.

"Diane *****?"
"Yes, this is Diane."
"This is Bill Proctor, DJ at KISD radio. How're ya doing today?"
I was totally puzzled. "Oh, fine."
"Well, I just wanted to make sure that your radio dial is set for KISD tonight about 6:30. Can you do that?"
"I guess so, but why?"
"Can't tell you that," said the DJ, "But I promise you won't be sorry." Well, I agreed, even though at the time I was working part time with the rival rock and roll station in Sioux Falls. I told Ma, "Okay, this has to be a joke and I'll bet Phil Huer (the DJ I worked for) is behind it."

We ate dinner around 4:30 and my sister Linda had to remind me to bring the radio into the kitchen and turn it on while we cleaned up. We suffered through some bad programming, Dad grousing about the kind of music kids listened to then, and then we heard:

"Diane, I hope you're out there listening. I got a special MARS radio call this morning from a young man in ChuLai, Viet Nam, and he told me about some special plans the two of you have for the spring. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

I don't know why I thought he could see me nod. I was in my kitchen and he was in the studio. Duh, Diane!
He went on to say, "He asked me to do him a favor and made a request for a special song. I'm proud to be part of this and to play this for you now, with love from Ken."
And my entire family sat in teary silence while the Mamas and Papas sang, "Dedicated to the One I Love."
When it was over, Dad stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I think it might be 'meant to be' after all."

I still remember exactly the smell of the Palmolive dish soap in the sink where the stubborn roasting pan was soaking. the tinkling sound of the dried silverware being put away, and the low murmurs of Ma's and Dad's voices in the living room every time I hear that song. I remember that the kitchen was still warm from having the oven on all day, and my littlest sister Bev was trying to sneak the flaky crust off the edges of the leftover pumpkin pie instead of wrapping it in foil and putting it in the fridge..
And I remember how it felt when love was young. Forty seven years later, the love has a slightly different, more comfortable feel to it, but just for the 3 minutes of that song, I am 16, in love, and a little scared all over again. I felt it again tonight while I sat in the parking lot in a small town in Wyoming, late for a meeting and not caring one bit.

What a lovely memory. And x10 on writing your book! Btw, my b-day is dec. 29, 54. What year were you born, if you don't mind sharing.

Cigar smoke.... I love it. Every time I smell it I remember my dad.

Dad was an inventor among many other things. We always had a bedroom converted over for his tinkering. He almost always had a cigar clenched in his teeth weather it was burning or not. His mornings started at around 4 am where he would tinker in his "lab" before work. My bedroom was next door. I was always woken early am by the smell of dads Cigar smoke.

He was always tinkering with Electronics building on breadboards. Breadboard are way you tinkered with circuit concepts.... They are filled with holes so you can assemble components and solder the connections.... they are reusable. So I had the smell of Cigar and solder and the occasional curse.....

One morning I heard Curses and the most undeniable smell of burning wiring. The sun wasnt up yet. Brought me bolt upright and I went into his workspace....

"What happened"

"Oh I just blew up two oscilloscopes" He had three.

"Oh no did it ruin your experiment"

"Naw I just have to buy more fuses"

"Ok"

This was before he bought his first computer probably around 1970.

Our first color TV was a Heathkit... He and I built it in the living room, but soldered up the circuit boards in his lab. He would read the wiring diagram and call out resistor values and I would read the codes on the resistors and hand them to him. He would bend the wires at the appropriate distance and feed them into the circuit card and solder them into place. That TV had Vacuum tubes. One of the Oscilloscopes was a Heathkit project.

I miss him terribly. Mom dropped out of high school to marry him. She was seventeen. He was 20.... He passed when he was 69 one year before their 50th Wedding Anniversary.

deb

How wonderful to have such sweet recollections.

This is starting to look like a pretty nice collection of short stories. For me, I don't have a specific memory, but whenever I smell the combination of mold, damp salty air, and paper, it brings back a sense of nostalgia from when we used to sail with our family in the summers. We had a small boat, which we now sold about five years ago, since my father no longer had the time or energy to take care of it. I remember many things, how a seagull stole a steak from our little camping grill at an island, how a bottle of grill lighting fluid exploded in my fathers hand one time. Or how we used to stop at burger places and ask for a plain burger to feed our dog while searching for a restaurant with a terrace, or one little restaurant with the loveliest yard, where the waiters used to bring our dog a waterbowl and feed him treats in secret. Beautiful islands out in the archipelago that only boaters got to experience, or old military artillery bases converted into harbors. I also remember us weathering through storms, with my father and me handling the boat while my sister and mother where inside complaining that they're sick and us saying that they should come outside. Or completely windless days, when we would only float onward at a speed of half a knot, and the sun burning our skin. There where also quaint little fishing villages out on islands, where you could buy freshly smoked fish and spend the night, and sometimes we used to go ashore at uninhabited islands where hardly no one ever went. So many lovely little memories, I really miss that boat. It wasn't much to look at, but it could maneuver some pretty stiff winds, and you could sail almost straight against the wind. I got to see almost every coastal city our country has during those years.

How exciting and awesome way to spend time with family!

Sounds lovely.

Vacations always are the best thing. My parents took us to France one summer, beautiful area... I recall the awful food they bought

(Don't buy pizza in France..) and stopping by the side of the road to eat fresh cherries straight from the tree

Caves and waterfalls.. Ah. Beauty.

I have very vague memories of Germany too.

In later years my mom took us to Spain by bus, 24 hours in a bus... but man, so worth it. The Spanish coast is so incredibly beautiful.


I have some scents that remind me of home, but I can't really pinpoint them. A mix of foods, I'm sure.

My dream is to go to Europe! How fun!

When i was five we moved to Roswell New Mexico. At the time dads job took him there.... He was part of a design team installing missile silos... this was 1960. Way before any notoriety about Alien crash sites... LOL.

During our time there Dad converted the little one car garage to a lab... He also had a Machine shop where he designed and built those big wheels that attach to irrigation pipes and walk the water through the fields. Every time I smell the odor of someone grinding on metal or welding.... I remember that Machine shop.

I remember him giving me a chair to sit on and fastening a piece of pipe in the vise and giving me hack saw.... My job was to cut that pipe in half... He showed me how too... and how the blades only cut in one direction. I must have worked on that pipe a good hour. While he filled in one of his worker bees on work instructions.

One time when it snowed dad made Yogi bear and Boo boo snow men. Then colored their faces with food coloring.... He took me horseback riding too... I spent the whole ride staring down in awe at my horse and dad laughing at me.... Dad grew up on horses. But his sisters were better. Here is a picture of his sisters at one of the homesteads they lived on in Texas. Helen Hanoise and Lucia, Gerry I believe was in a TB ward by that time. No hugging and kissing in that family.... Lots of laughter though.


deb

Awwww! Such a great story.

Grain... and wood. Those are the smells that take me back. I used to climb up on the grain barrel (the grains mixed with molasses) and sneak little hand fulls to chew on. One day, the lid on the barrel shifted and tipped up clobbering me in the chops. I got a fat lip, and bruised my front teeth. To this day, there are 2 spots on my front teeth where I suppose extra calcium was laid down as a result of that mis-hap. Too bad the rest of my teeth aren't as white! Then later on, I was never happier than when my Dad took me out on the road with him. He was a building contractor, so we'd visit the job sites, then my day was made in heaven if we got to stop at the old Agway store, and he gave me a quarter to go out back in the grain room and choose some scoops of grain to take home to my chickens.

I think those memories of times with parents are so precious!
Great stories, everyone! Thanks for sharing. Haven't been on here for a couple of weeks, and it is so nice to come in with as some one stated, warm and fuzzy feelings!

 

[Blooie]

I don't mind sharing a bit...I was born in 1950 - so I was potty trained before you were born! Teehee

 

[wyoDreamer]

Living here in the big ole USA, it is so hard to realize how small some countries are and how closely connected they are to each other also.

I remember my dad smoking his pipe in the evening. We would wait until he had a nice layer of smoke in the living room, and then dance through it, spinning and twirling across the room. Then stop and look back at the smoke swirling behind us.

Pipe smoke is my trigger memory for a warm fuzzy.

When i was still in high school, my sister took me to a party at a friends house. She was always trying to get me to come out of my shell since I was so stinking shy. She got drunk and threw up peppermint schnapps all over my shoes. To this day, the smell of peppermint schnapps makes me gag. No so good trigger.

 

[vehve]

Living here in the big ole USA, it is so hard to realize how small some countries are and how closely connected they are to each other also.

I remember my dad smoking his pipe in the evening. We would wait until he had a nice layer of smoke in the living room, and then dance through it, spinning and twirling across the room. Then stop and look back at the smoke swirling behind us.

Pipe smoke is my trigger memory for a warm fuzzy.

When i was still in high school, my sister took me to a party at a friends house. She was always trying to get me to come out of my shell since I was so stinking shy. She got drunk and threw up peppermint schnapps all over my shoes. To this day, the smell of peppermint schnapps makes me gag. No so good trigger.

One way to think of Europe, is that each country is sort of a state in USA, with a tad more independence (in some cases). There are many Europeans who have never left their home country, just as I would assume many Americans have never ventured outside their home states. I've heard about people living in New York who have never been outside of an area consisting of the few blocks they've grown up in. But it's pretty easy to move about in Europe, as it is across USA, so you can easily rack up quite an impressive list of countries you've visited. Personally I've been to Sweden, Denmark, Estonia, Russia, Germany, Belgium, Luxembourg, Italy, France, Yugoslavia when that was still a country (the area that is Croatia now), the United Kingdom, Ireland, Switzerland, Cyprus, the Netherlands, and of course my home country, Finland. Outside of Europe, I've been to China and the Dominican Republic (with a stop-over in Halifax, Canada, and I can say that the reputation of Canadians being friendly and polite was not seen in the customer service agents "attending" to us during the four hours we spent there while the plane was repaired). And I don't even travel that often. The US is high on the list of countries to visit next.

My dad smokes a pipe too, the smell of MacBaren pipe tobacco is one of my favorite smells.

I had a similar mishap with peppermint schnapps when I was 15, involving me regurgitating a pizza on our living room chair which had been reupholstered a week earlier. I think the reason I was never caught, was the distraction of the note my parents came home to in the evening saying "Osmo is sleeping in the toilet, with the door locked." I did get most of the stains out of that chair, and flipped the cushion over.

 

[Wisher1000]

Quote:
I had a similar mishap with peppermint schnapps when I was 15, involving me regurgitating a pizza on our living room chair which had been reupholstered a week earlier. I think the reason I was never caught, was the distraction of the note my parents came home to in the evening saying "Osmo is sleeping in the toilet, with the door locked." I did get most of the stains out of that chair, and flipped the cushion over.

Have you had another occasion to partake of Peppermint Schnapps? If you and your wife get a chance to hop the pond, I have a spare room and would be thrilled to have y'all! (that's Alabam-ese for "you are welcome here!")