October- Smacks of Old Fart Returns!

I got this story from a good friend of mine who lives in St. Louis, and who is also an avid SOOF reader.  Though the names have been changed to protect the identity of this particular "Old Fart" my friend swears this is a true story.  And, if that's the case, I'm sure you'll agree that this guy should be anointed "Old Fart of the Year."

Here's how the story goes:

A guy named Ted was asked by his wife to clean out the family room fireplace.  They had enjoyed a fire in that room the night before, and Ted's wife thought the remaining ashes "smelled up" the rest of the house.

Ted immediately retrieved a plastic bucket from the garage to hold the ashes.  He then dutifully began scooping ashes into the bucket without noticing that some of the ashes were actually smoldering embers from the previous evening's fire.  When the bucket was full, he picked it up by its handle, carried it across the family room, out the back door, across the backyard to a hedge row where there was a pile of recently raked leaves, and that's where he dumped the bucket's contents.

After returning the bucket to the garage, Ted went back to the family room.  There he was greeted by the smell of burning carpet.  Embers had melted a hole in the bottom of the bucket and were unknowingly trailed across the floor as Ted was hauling the bucket out back.  Not being the quick thinker he was during his younger years, Ted ran to the closet, got the vacuum cleaner and started to suck up the ashes he had trailed across the floor.  However, before he could finish, Ted's wife yelled from upstairs, "Ted, the hedge is on fire!"  

Ted dropped the vacuum, ran outside, got the garden hose, drug it to the hedge and doused the slow burning fire.  Then, as if a light bulb had been turned on in his head, Ted dropped the hose, and ran back into the house.  Sure enough, there was the dust bag on the vacuum cleaner also on fire.  He picked up the vacuum, carried it outside, threw it on  the ground and hosed it down like a fireman fighting a three alarm house fire.

The good news in this story is that Ted's wife got new carpet for the family room and a brand new Oreck XL21 to keep it clean.  The bad news is that Ted had some unplanned gardening work to do in the spring, and was required by his wife to increase his daily dosage of gingko baloba.    

You just can't make this stuff up!  And, it definitely  "Smacks of Old Fart."  

-Pat

       

     

  

SOOF Wednesday

Since many of you emailed and asked, (and when I say many, I mean no one), why there were no posts last week, it was because we were busy.

When I asked the younger members of my family a short while back to list what makes them think "Old Fart", they all sent me several examples. I chose from those, but Shannon sent hers in too late for the post.

However, her comment must be addressed, because it is true. She said, "The inability to do more than one thing a day." I am afraid she may be right.

I don't know when this happened, because I used to do A LOT in one day. I worked, juggled three kids and their schedules, cooked, and cleaned, just as other moms and dads do.

Now it is an all day affair to do the laundry or clean up my office. How did this happen?
I know Shannon was not just talking about me. Several of my retired friends and I have talked about this oddity that takes place during this time of our life. Why one of the old fart authors himself couldn't write last week because he was spending time with his grandchildren.

Too busy to write a post
Pat and his granddaughter

Isaac and I headed to the coastal region of Texas.

Well, spending time with my grandchildren is my excuse too. I was in Houston with Lucy and Ava. We were busy and there was not much quiet time for writing.

Lucy and I mugging for the iPhone camera.

Ava turned four last week. I brought in gifts from Miles and Michelle and us.

The microphone was a big hit-with Ava. Joanie said, "Ava, we will have to write Aunt Michelle a special thank you note for this gift."

Do not let this face make you think Ava didn't like this Little Pony DVD. I meant to destroy it before I left Houston. I don't know why the makers of these children shows have to make the voices so irritating. Are they just trying to make grown people and puppies cry? The government needs to use this to torture prisoners. Or, maybe I was just past doing my one thing a day limit.

Lucy was too busy juggling calls and looking chic to bother with those Ponies.

I figured if ponies were popular, we might as well do them right. So off we went to the carousel. (actually, Joanie suggested it)

Oh the joy! 

So even though spending time getting one thing accomplished a day, or even a week, does SOOF, it can be very rewarding.

Smacks of Old Fart Wednesday

You know, I was thinking the other day about the financial benefits associated with being a senior citizen.  Currently, you can start drawing your Social Security pension as early as age 62, Medicare kicks in at 65, and there are all kinds of Senior Citizen Discounts out there, at all kinds of establishments.  You can get discounts at the movies, hotels, rental cars, airlines, cruise lines, car washes, restaurants, etc., etc., etc.  All you have to do is be old enough and willing to own up to being an "Old Fart."  The latter may be the hardest part.

Shortly after moving to Tyler, in June of 2009, my wife and I went  to a local Mexican Restaurant for dinner.  While looking at the menu I noticed that Seniors were eligible for lunch portion meals, at lunch prices, anytime of the day or night.  And the qualifying age was 62.  I thought this was a really good deal.  The size of the meal was right, the price was right, and I had just turned 62 and 1/2.  (I've noticed that many Seniors, myself included, report their age in years and half years...just like young kids.  But, for different reasons.  Kids want to sound older than they really are, and Seniors want to sound younger.)

Anyway, I told our server that I was 62 and 1/2 and wanted the lunch size beef fajitas and a glass of un-sweet tea.  While he was taking my wife's order, I was fumbling through my wallet looking for my driver's license.  I was sure that he would want proof of my age.  After all the guy at the Liquor Store wanted to see my license when I was 21 before he'd sell me a six pack of beer.  If then...why not now?  But, by the time I got my license out the server had already left to turn in our order.

When he returned with our drink orders, I asked why he didn't ask to see proof that I qualified for this Senior Citizen deal.  All he did was wink and say, "I trust you."  

Needless to say, I left with a deflated ego, and he left with a deflated tip.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I went to get the car washed.  One of the car wash places in our neighborhood had started giving a $2.00 discount on any of their washes to Seniors over 65.  (If you've done the math then you know that now I'm a month shy of being 65 and 1/2.)  I drove up, told the attendant that I wanted the $12.99 full service wash.  He said, "Thank you."  Wrote what I wanted on a ticket and handed it to me.  I took the ticket to the cashier, and before I could say a word, she said, "That will be $10.99."  

If this isn't bad enough, after I left the car wash I went to a nearby Whataburger to drown my old age sorrows in a #1 What-a-meal with a large diet Coke.  I pulled up to the order point in the drive-thru line and told the "voice" over the loud speaker what I wanted.   The "voice" told me the price and asked that I pull around to the second window.  When I pulled around to the second window, I told the lady there that the "voice" had made a mistake when telling me the price.  I actually owed $0.57 more than told.  That's when she said, "Oh no sir, we gave you the Senior Citizen discount."  

How did she know?  She couldn't see me, didn't ask, and I didn't tell!  But, I did immediately feel about two weeks older than dirt.

Looking like a Senior is one thing, sounding like one is another. But, when you look AND sound like a senior...that has got to "Smack of Old Fart." 

Pat              

Smacks of Old Fart

I hate to "break bad" on my sweet, loving, and beautiful wife of almost 43 years, but here of late she has been a virtual fount of old fart fodder. 

For example, our morning routine (except for the days that I go to the office...aka the golf course for 18 holes with my buddies) consists of Jennifer (wife) reading the paper and doing the paper's daily puzzles, and me playing a mindless game on the computer and watching Fox News in my "Man Cave." At some point, normally after my second cup of coffee, I'll say, "Hey, I'm going to make some toast...want any?" 

Usually Jennifer says she doesn't because I like my toast fixed in a toaster (go figure) and she likes hers prepared in the oven. You know...oven turned to high broil, bread lightly buttered on one side, then placed on a cookie sheet, and the cookie sheet slid onto the middle rack of the oven. Half way through the cooking portion of the preparation process, the cookie sheet is removed from the oven, the bread turned over, the cookie sheet placed back on the middle rack of the oven, and cooking continued until the toast just starts to turn brown. Next the oven is turned off and the toast allowed to dry out from the oven's residual heat. She claims this method renders perfect toast. (Feel free to add this to your recipe files.)

Well, just the other day, Jennifer decided she wanted toast made her way. She went to the kitchen, turned on the oven, opened the storage drawer directly below the oven, retrieved a cookie sheet, got bread from the pantry and began the preparation process. 

A few minutes later she returned to the kitchen to check on the progress of her toast. She turned on the oven light and opened the oven door. You can imagine her surprise when all she saw was an empty hot oven. After a few minutes of intense freaking out, she opened the storage drawer below the oven and....yep, there it was, one cookie sheet with two slices of bread, lightly buttered on one side.

I laughingly told this story to our daughter Erin, who immediately asked, "Dad, do you need to be concerned about Mom misplacing things?" I told her no, that I wasn't concerned. I'm just attributing it to the company she's been keeping. 

You see, our neighbor and good friend, Sue, spent hours one day looking for her purse. She finally decided to give up the search, convincing herself the purse would eventually turn up. After all, it couldn't have just walked off. A little while later, Sue went to the kitchen to start supper. She opened the refrigerator to get out some meat that had been marinating, and there it was, sitting right next to a half gallon of milk--one, no longer missing, purse. 

I don't know if Jennifer and Sue would agree, but I'm pretty sure that both of these stories "Smack of Old Fart." Its either that or our subdivision was built on an old Indian Burial Ground and angry evil spirits are out for revenge. Naw...they just "Smack of Old Fart." 

-Pat

SMACKS OF OLD FART WEDNESDAY

SMACKS OF OLD FART

This is the introductory guest column called “Smacks of Old Fart”. You’re probably wondering where this title came from. Well, here is the skinny on that. While on a recent vacation with our friends Pat and Jennifer Oler, it became apparent that we were all getting old. Things just kept happening that just really smacked of something old farts would do. So, the four of us thought “you know there are a lot of old farts out there that would love to read a blog about this subject” (actually it was Pat’s idea). That is if they could find their glasses...oh yeah..they are on top of their heads. Like most old farts we procrastinated. Pat and I (Barry) decided (actually this was Jan’s idea) rather than figure out how to write and post a blog of our own, we could write a guest column and post it on Jan’s  blog, Inside the BrierPatch. Not to be confused with Inside the NFL. Pat and I decided we would make Wednesday our day to post. We plan to alternate. Therefore, without further ado, the following is Volume 1, No. 1, April 18th, 2012. (Oh s__t, April 18th, did I forget to file my taxes?)

I really do not try to do stupid things. Technology doesn’t help in this regard. Tonight while calling my SOOF co-writer, Pat Oler, is a case in point. You know when I was young, I had at least all my friends, relatives, work and other telephone numbers memorized. Not sure if I could still do that but thank goodness I don’t have to. I looked up Pat and Jennifer’s number on, what else, my cell phone. Personal file cabinet and keeper of all important and necessary information to function. Then I called them on my land line. I can actually hear the conversation on a land line. Anyway, Jennifer answered, and we were catching up when I heard her phone beep and what sounded like a recording come through. The number being announced on her caller i.d. was familiar. You guessed it, yes it was me pocket calling the Olers from my cell. Doesn’t that just Smack of Old Fart? 

If you have any SOOF stories please forward them to me. You might get credit. Maybe not. 

The photo is a re-enactment of me pulling off this SOOF snafu.

Yours truly,

Barry

ps: Jan said that this information I just gave her was a SOOF article itself. I think it is more of a ps.

 I was reading one of my veterinary news feeds, “Animal Health Smart Brief”, when I segued to an article on how bats fly so efficiently. Then I jumped to an article called “The Most Ridiculous and Comprehensive Way to Test Toilet Paper” by the Consumer Reports People. Well it turns out that White Cloud TP sold at Wal-Mart is better and cheaper than Charmin.  I think Pat would have commented, “well I rectum it is”. He is more homespun than me. Tune in next week to see what I mean.

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