Aliens can do that?

I am such a liar. I have complained that summer was kicking my butt the last few weeks, and that is why I haven't been getting the blogs done at a decent hour on Sunday nights or at all. But summer hasn't kicked my butt this weekend. It has been a very leisurely weekend. Friday evening was spent. . . . It was so relaxing that I can't even remember what we did Friday evening. Thank goodness, Bev and Grace can't remember either. No need to call the Alzheimer’s ward yet. I guess that we could have been abducted by aliens and had our Friday night memories erased. Who can remember?

So okay I don't think that the aliens kicked my butt. I don't even think that they have legs that are articulated in the same fashion as ours are. I imagine that they have the same articulation as a donkey. Surely, I could move out of the way as an alien made the decision to kick my butt, turned around, took aim with his evolutionarily selected rear-facing camera and lashed out with fury.

Saturday, was non-derriere punting also. We got up at 5:30 a.m. to get Bev and Grace to Waffle-House with our friends Sherri, Dave, and Josh so that Bev, Grace, and Sherri could carbo-load before their premier mudathalon. 3.5 miles of grueling athleticism though the Indiana countryside facing mud, obstacles, and beer. Dave, and I were carbo-loading to support our wives and in my case my daughter. Josh was carbo-loading to drown the embarrassment he felt having his mom act this way. Actually not, Josh seems like a well adjusted teenager that likes and supports his mom. I was just channeling my own Neanderthal teen years. I would have died if my mom would have done that. Actually, she might have died too - high blood pressure.

The women had fun. The support crew did its job and supported the women as they went through the woods and the weeds. And since the objects of our affection have world class hearts and less than world class athleticism, I was able to sit down beside the track and write Ben his snail mail letter.  I would keep an eye on the track and as I saw our intrepid band slogging through the mud, I would jump up. yell some words of encouragement and snap some pictures. Everyone had a good time, and is very proud of their aches and pains this morning. "My arms and legs are good but my core is a little sore." I, too, get a secret pleasure when I wince as I flex my shutter snapping index finger.

We got home in time to take a thirty minute nap (the morning's activity had left me exhausted) before my sister's family arrived. They are great. They have adopted three boys, that started young, and as boys will do, have maturated into their teen years. It is always good to have them at the farm. They are very good workers and we have some cool toys; so getting them to do my work is easy. James jumped on the zero turn radius mower and peeled off across the yard. He effectively knocked two hours off of my chore time. Then John and I went off to the woods to cut some fire wood for the fall; condensing a five hour job to three. It is always good to see a young man swing an axe with all his might with joint numbing, blister raising, results and then taking the axe out of his hands and with a few well place strokes, reducing the block to kindling. It is good to see the strength and exuberance of youth at work, and somehow comforting to know that it is wasted on the young.

A good day's work deserves a good meal with conversation at the FortGrille. I know horrible name. They were trying to cleverly combine Fortville with Grill. It just doesn't work. I will give them credit. They could have taken their second choice of GrillVille; just not much to work with there. I do give it two big thumbs up though. They do not just open up the Cisco can and pour the contents into a warmer and wait for you to show up. It is good food. They have way too many people on the wait staff so you feel a little hovered over.

Back to the conversation, as middle America is want to do, we sometimes start to obsess and start talking about the things that will kill us; cigarettes, lack of seat belts, texting and driving, dipping your onion rings in Ranch dressing. At this point, I saw my opening. I have several beliefs that many people think are odd, or strange, or they just don't get. But I have found that many of my nieces and nephews are more accommodating in their acceptance of Uncle Roger's big ideas. This is truly a testament to their parents and the strict regimen of politeness they have forced on their off-spring.

Seeing my opening, I said "well if the government really wanted to protect us from the things that will kill us, they would close down all of the nursing homes." They look at me with slack jaws. Huh?

My voice rising; "You go to a nursing home and you are going to die." "Sure cigarettes will kill 70% of smokers in 40 years or so, but a nursing home will kill 99% of their occupants in 5 years."

I can see that I am starting to persuade. I start to gesticulate with my hands.  "Sure you’re 10 times more likely to get into a fatal accident while texting and driving but a million times more likely to die if you go into a nursing home; whether you text or not. What is the government doing by not protecting us from this national disaster?"

I had lost them. All three silently sitting noncommittally nodding their heads like three nephew bobble heads.  Probably thinking, I like Uncle Roger but I think sometimes he's had his butt kicked by aliens.

Take Care

Roger