Knitting Humor

As we were driving to Loveland to perform a number of patriotic songs with the Colorado Mormon Chorale, noticing Deanna was knitting a sock, I asked,

"Is that for the right foot or the left foot?"

She replied, "It's bisoxual."

Grandpa Wendell vs The Stumps

 

 It's been almost three years since the dead or dying cottonwood trees were hacked down and hauled away. We didn't pay for stump removal at the time and have tried a few low-cost, low success methods of disposing of the above ground remnants of the trees. Two years ago I bought some Stump Out, drilled holes in the stumps, poured the chemicals into the holes, poured water over the chemicals to help carry the chemicals into the holes. My small, low powered electric drill and my impatience failed to penetrate the wood as far as the instructions recommended. From time to time I would revisit the stumps with other attempts at removal. I've tried lighter fluid and charcoal with the effect of burning the top down a bit and leaving a charred outside and a lingering smell in the neighborhood. 

 

  I'm making manly progress these past two weekends. As the weather has cooled slightly, I have dug around the base of the stumps and found roots that are susceptible to blows from an axe. I picked on the smallest of the remaining stumps and assaulted it with shovel, axe, pick and some old lighter fluid I found in the storage shed.   

 

I found a second stump to be in a more decayed condition than the first. The second one virtually fell apart after a bit of digging with a pick and shovel and a few strategically placed blows from my newly sharpened axe. It's interesting that a little time in preparation (sharpening an axe, for example) can enhance ones performance.

 

 

 
     The last remaining stump is from the tree that was still live at the time of removal.  I've treated it with Stump Out and will let the chemicals do their work for a few weeks before attacking with fire and axe.  That will give my sore back time to recuperate....
  
   
     

Flanders YSA FHE Ice Cream Sculpting

Ice cream sculpting - a fine way to express one's creative urges on a wintry night (in a heated building, of course)

Below Derek Chidester, Ashley Depew & Karen Turnbow Right: Crissy Hansen, Shelly Hansen and Jared Tolley

Micah Foster's heart-warming tribute to his mother.

Left: Michael Song, at work on the Sphynx.

Right: Kelsey Hess doing something with chocolate.

A collective effort, in vanilla, representing a porcelain toilet. At the conclusion, most of the sculptures were consumed in the refreshment portion of the activity. Some, more reluctantly than others.

Birthday poem from my son, the nurse

Little Wendell was a solemn tike

begat somewhere out west.
With baseball cards, accordions,

and sheep he was the best.
He’d strut around the family farm,

whacking livestock with his bat
But now Little Wendell’s sixty

and his strut’s a little flat.

Young Man Wendell was a charming gent.
A brash, athletic stud.
His glee club years of swooning

were a grand hormonal flood.
He’d dress up like a jungle man
and scream to get them hot
But Young Man Wendell’s sixty,
and most everyone’s forgot.

Father Wendell had some offspring
All sired in decades past
He dreamed of making teams of boys
All fit and strong and fast.
Now Father Wendell’s sixty
and he’s short of hair and purse
His daughters all were dancers
and his son became a nurse.

Grandpa Wendell’s skills are varied
He knits and slurps his jell-o.
He sings and farts and lives through strokes
And tells his neighbors, “hello.”
He guards young girls from ATVs
With his warfarin-riddled flesh.
He’s married now for thirty nine years
And I think he still gets fresh.

Yes, Grandpa Wendell’s sixty now,
And no longer needs a comb.
And though he’ll sometimes lose his keys
He’s not ready for the home.
Ten grandkids love him dearly
He has grace and wit and class
You can tell that Grandpa’s sixty
By his spry but wrinkled ass.

- Jonathan Tolman

16 Feb 2012

Happy Birthday, Dad

Scenes from Family Christmas Reunion