11-30-05

Hard to believe this is the last day of November. Only 25 days or whatever to Christmas. Don't hardly have the Christmas spirit flowing as of yet.

Last year, it never arrived like it should.

We still have five puppies if anybody is interested. Dachshund puppies, to be more accurate. Three males, two females. Cost is $100 for the chicks, $75 for the guys.

Watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith last night. The wife and daughter watched it at the movie and said it was good. Pretty good flick. Starts off a little slow, but the action picks up. Not the best movie I have ever seen, but a good way to spend a couple of hours.

Plus, it counted for family time! They meet, get married, but have separate lives. Turns out they are both assassins and when they go after the same person, the fecal material hits the fan. After that, they have 24 hours to wipe each other out or they will be eliminated.

Angelina still has big, uh, lips. They argue a lot, which I have discovered is true among most married couples. But the knockdown battle they have tops them all.

Ever wonder what a spider looks like close up? Here's your chance. Click here. This is a picture I took Saturday. Used a 50 mm macro lens along with an extension tube to get so close. Part of the picture was a little dark so I had to work on it.

The spider was on a stick that my son was holding. It kept scampering.

It has been deer hunting season around here for the last month or so. Everybody asks if I hunt. I tell them I'll start hunting when you can't buy hamburger meat at the store. Not hunting around here makes people think you are strange, not that I care.

I just can't shoot anything unless it is a poisonous snake or something wanting to attack the old Craigman. I do kill spiders and enjoy smashing dogticks on the concrete with lawn furniture (something my wife does not get the same thrill about). But I must be too tender hearted. Just don't think I can kill a living creature. Plus, I don't really care for any meat that you can't find at the grocery store.

That's one reason why I won't eat Mexican or Chinese food. I'm sure they use regular meat, but the worry about them running short of meat and catching a mouse or rat bothers me.

I do have my own kind of hunting. It is hunting for bugs and other things to photograph. A lot less bloody. I do sometimes get a little dirty and it bothers my children when one of their friends asks them why their father was crawling around out in the yard.

Luckily, they have accepted it.

Sadly, I must go. I am writing a new book and posting a chapter a day. This is a little rowdy, so I am not sharing it with everybody. Sadly, no redeeming factors with the book. Just silly. No cussing or anything really bad, but the characters get in their share of trouble. The title is When Squiggy Met Mule.

The story is based on the characters from The Old Man's Request, a book I published earlier this year.

If you want the link, send an email to thecraigman2003@yahoo.com and I'll send it your way.

11-29-05

We got the latest People magazine the other day. The 20th year celebration, even! A lot of trees have died so people can read about silly celebrities shagging other silly celebrities.

The old Craigman came up short again. I'm sure it was close, but Mathew McConaughey was voted Sexiest Man Alive.

By gosh, I demand a freaking recount. What the crap does he have (other than being a movie star, lots of hair, no beer gut, money and fame) that I don't have.

That's just not right, people. At least I have never been arrested playing bongo drums in my birthday suit.

It's almost frigid in the heavetown today. Glad the wind stopped blowing so hard or it would almost be nipply out. We certainly don't want that now, do we?

My duck's still dead. At least his little feet aren't sticking up out of the water any more. I'm trying hard not to mourn the little fellow. Still hope he'll float up to the edge and retrieve his corpse before some wild animal eats him for lunch, so I can give him a decent burial.

He will take his place next to the other dogs and cats I have buried. Over the last year or so, we have lost two dogs and several cats.

Here is something I wrote about our Dachshund Oscar when he died in August of 2004. It was as hard to lose him as it was when Harley passed away.

An Ode to Oscar the dog

Almost five years ago, my wife told me she wanted to buy a Dachshund from some people near Bokoshe.

I argued that wasn’t a good idea and gave the usual reasons why, that a dog is messy, will pee and poop inside, etc.

One day she decided to get one anyway and came home with a little weenie dog. He was a male and tiny, able to fit in a hand with no problem. I thought he looked like a rat and gave him the nickname of “Rodent”, one that was seldom used the more I got to know him.

We decided to name him Oscar, as in Oscar Meyer since he was a weenie dog, a name he shared with thousands of other Dachsunds.. His registered name was Oscar dela Halladog. He wound up with other names like: “Oscardog”, “De Big Guy” and “Shorty”, names that never did him justice.

But what he became known as best was “friend”.

He quickly worked his way into our hearts as we watched him grow into the dog he eventualy became.

Oscar was not the easiest dog to deal with. He was stubborn and pretty much did what he wanted. If we did not give him enough attention, Oscar would get into mischief, like chewing on the couch. When we caught him, he would have a look on his face like “yeah, you caught me, but I had a heck of a time!”

If we wanted him to go right, he usually went left, or might go right just because that was what he wanted to do.

One day he came up missing and we were frantic, wondering where he was. Eventually, we discovered he followed some kids walking up the mountain next to our house, despite his short legs. We found him out of breath, of course, lying in the shade.

He wasn’t really much of a guard dog and seldom barked at visitors, Oscar had too much love and liked people too much for that. But let a cat or bird bother to venture into our backyard and he got rid of them quickly. Oscar was fearless when he needed to be, especially when possums dared to trespass on our deck.

Oscar attacked them with a viciousness that was impressive. A possum can be scary with that ugly face and the long teeth, but was no match for our Oscardog.

He was a member of our family, of that there could be no doubt. He celebrated holidays and birthdays with us, usually right in the middle. Many a visitor was greeted by Oscar, who sometimes grew so excited he left a little gift on the guest.

Oscar was a little on the lazy side at times and loved getting in bed, crawling under the covers and sleeping for hours on end. He also liked hanging out on the couch or chair, just taking it easy.
But he was always up for a walk around our property, always moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with despite his little legs. And when the mood struck, he was a determined digger, leaving numerous holes in the backyard for us to step in.

Oscar was stubborn, as mentioned previously, but had smarts that were uncommon for a dog. His head might be small compared to other dogs, but he was certainly not cheated for smarts.
If asked if he wanted to go for a ride or if we shook keys in front of him, Oscar knew it was time to go for a ride and would run around all excited. Once we left, he would stick his head out the window and let those long, droopy ears flop in the wind, all the while smudging up the window as he tried to sniff outside, always on the lookout for cows or horses that he needed to scare off to keep them from attacking our vehicle.

My wife could simply say something about going to bed and Oscar would act like he was shot out of a cannon, tearing through the house toward the bed, hoping to snuggle down under the covers and keep us warm, or vice versa.

Oscar was sensitive in a way that was beyond belief. When everybody was happy, so was he.

But if somebody was hurting or sad, he would be there, trying to lick or love us back to happiness.

He was our constant companion over the last five years. Oscar never indicated whether he liked watching “chick flicks” or football games, but never complained, always keeping whoever had the privilege of being near him company.

Oscar was not perfect, of course, no dog or human is. He preferred using the bathroom in the house instead of outside, if possible, and had the unique talent of sitting up on his rear, waving his arms to catch our attention, while begging food from us while we ate.

He never asked for anything other than food, drink and our company. When life was sometimes cruel or we needed a friend, he was always happy to oblige.

Oscar helped raise two other dogs, giving up some of his quality time with us, but never complained. He was not fond of the outdoors, unless the weather was perfect. If it was wet, cold or hot, that just wasn’t his cup of tea.

Over time, his fondness of eating and sleeping helped get him too heavy. Old Oscar loved to eat and sleep and did not get the exercise he needed.

On Friday, Oscar was his usual self, running around and playing with Daisy, the little weenie dog puppy we got a few months ago to keep Oscar company. He showed the energy of our four-month old puppy, chasing each other and wrestling. But on Saturday, Oscar did not feel good and Sunday brought no relief.

On Monday, we took him to the vet, expecting a quick recovery and him to be home by noon after a little shot of medicine, ready to be our companion again.

The phone call came around noon from the vet, informing us Oscar did not make it.

We were all stunned, never believing something that was such a big part of our life was taken away. It was a terrible blow and we cried and felt bad all afternoon.

During the course of my life, I have lost close relatives and friends, but having to pick Oscar up from the vet and bury him in the backyard was one of the toughest things I have ever done.

Everywhere we look, there are memories of him. The holes he dug in the backyard, his toys, the holes in the couch and his pictures on the wall.

Daisy is confused, of course, looking for Oscar and wondering where he is. She runs through the house, looking for his usual hideouts, but like us, cannot find him.

Some people would argue he was only a dog and we should not feel this way. It’s true, he was a dog, but was much more than that. A part of us died yesterday and left me wondering why this happened.

After all, we prayed for his recovery and had no doubt Oscar would make it through. He was only five and had plenty of living left. But it is one of those things we do not have the answer for.
I believe God must have needed a good companion.

He blessed us with Oscar for almost five years and let him make our lives better, but was ready to give Oscar his permanent home.

One day, I pray to see him again. When I walk through the Pearly Gates, I expect to see Oscar waiting, wagging his little tail, then run and jump into my arms, no longer chubby, sick or hurting.

P.S. his holes are still there.

11-28-05

Kind of a sad day for the old Craigman.

No, not just cause I had to come back to work. We had a duck living in one of our ponds that I fed everyday. Went up there to feed the little fellow yesterday and his feathers were scattered everywhere and he was belly up.

Hope my dog didn't do it. We had the duck for quite a while. Used to be my brother's duck, but one day one of our former dogs had captured it. I had to swim in the pond to rescue it and from that point on, the duck stayed at my house.

Here's one of my favorite pictures. Now, I'll have to figure out another excuse to sneak out of the house.

The youngest son is ill today. Must be the traumatic post-Thanksgiving bug going around. Just been off school for 10 days and needed another one.

We hit the movies Saturday night. Watched Yours, Mine and Ours starring Dennis Quaid and Rene Russo.

This was a movie the wife and daughter wanted to see. I didn't really care, just wanted to get out of the house. We went to the theater in Poteau. They are still showing Harry Potter so a bunch of squeamish little kids were there.

The movie was about what I expected. Kind of a knock off of The Brady Bunch, except on steroids. Dennis Quaid is some Coast Guard guy. Rene Russo is a free-spirited mother. He had eight kids. She has 10. As if. And they're single parents!

They're old sweethearts back before they were dumb enough to have so many kids. Naturally, they hit it off and get married, or there wouldn't have been a movie.

So the kids don't like each other. They form up to drive the parents apart with little humor. It works, then the kids realize they like each other and want the parents back together. Blah, blah, blah.

The wife and daughter liked it, of course. It started raining hard midway through the movie. The wife started complaining that somebody was throwing ice at her. No kids back behind her. We swapped seats and I got splattered. Figured out the roof was leaking.

Nice. I like paying $6 or whatever to watch a cruddy movie then get rained on.

The old nails were getting a little long. Not like 9 Inches Long, the name of some musical group I have never listened to, but long enough to bother me. That got me to wondering. Why the heck do we have toenails and fingernails.

At least the chicks can dress them up by painting them, like that makes any sense. But really, it's not like we use our nails to climb trees or anything. Does help the dippers open snuff cans, but other than that, have no purpose in them.

I ought to create something that will freeze the nails at the exact length necessary. That could make me a zillionaire, except I don't have a clue how to do it.

We can send instant messages and talk to somebody around the world, but can't figure out some way to stunt the growth of a toenail. People, that just isn't right.

Enough for today. I am out.

11-27-05

Welcome to today's blog. It is a Sunday morning and looks rather stormy outside. House is still and quiet, for one of the few times of the week. Everybody else is still asleep.

Still recovering from the OU-OSU game yesterday. That is always a tough day for me. I've always been a fan of both schools and hate to see either one lose. OU won yesterday, 42-14, despite another bout of terrible officiating that has plagued the Sooners lately.

OSU just looked terrible. Don't know if the Cowboys are headed in the right direction. Play calling was so-so and their quarterback, Al Pena, took a terrible beating. Adrian Peterson was held in check for the first half before exploding for two long touchdown runs in the second half.

Reminded me of the way I used to run the ball, at least when playing against kids much younger and before I got chubby.

Read a story in the paper today about a football coach at Canton, Texas, who was shot last spring by a parent upset about the lack of playing time for his son. The coach was in the hospital for a long time with internal injuries, but has returned to the team and upset the top-ranked team in the state a couple of weeks ago.

I knew there was some reason I didn't become a coach. Now, I work at a place where there is always the change of being held up. Not a real smart move by the old Craigman.

I am not the type to complain, unless something upsets me. A few weeks ago, my youngest son was with a couple of other kids downtown. One of the boys was living with us at the time. The third boy threw a brick through a window downtown.

Cops hauled all three boys to the police station. Our son maintained he didn't do anything and somebody who saw it, vouched for it. But they all had to go to our town's court. The kid who broke the window would not admit it that night.

So they get to our local court and the judge, who is actually an attorney, asked our son how he pled. "Not guilty." And then said he wanted a "trial".

Next up, the other boy said he was the one who did it. But because the policeman who investigated the case could not come to the court session, the judge wouldn't accept that only one of the boys did it and makes everybody come back again.

I know that he was trying to do the right thing, but the judge should have dismissed the charges again my son. Maybe it did put a scare in him, though.

Anybody who has not attended a local court session really needs to attend one. Or at least take their kid, that should be enough to scare them out of doing anything bad.

Enough for now.

11-25-05

Just in case you were wondering, I did survive Thanksgiving.

We went to my mother-in-law's. There are like a ton of people there. I have developed a routine that seems to work well and keeps me from going stir crazy as I can't handle a large crowd and noise very well.

There's a spare bedroom with a television in it. Usually, the kids have a game system and I can sneak in there and play games with them. If they have already gone outside, it's all mine. Got to do this for almost an hour yesterday! Rather enjoyable.

We usually have a football game. Sometimes, they are tackle games and I avoid them since I was dumb enough to take part in one of those games last year on New Year's Day and didn't quit hurting for half a year. I was a stud, though. The 13-year olds had a tough time tackling the old Craigman.

But like I said, it took me forever to get over it. So that taught me a lesson. Now, if there is a tackle game going on, I offer to play quarterback for both teams. This works pretty well as it gets me out of the house and away from much of the noise, plus it's fun.

That's what I did yesterday. I broke out the old gun that is my arm and played quarterback, displaying very few of the skills that once were evident as a quarterback for good old Heavener High School.

The passes just don't go as long or have the zip. Plus, I pay for it the next day. So today, my arm is hurting a tad bit, but was still worth getting away from the adults. Every now and then, I would throw a good pass which would boost my ego, not that it needs pushed up much higher.

Still, despite what I thought was my smarts in not actually getting involved in the tackling, I wound up with an injury. I leaned over to pick up the ball and something popped behind my leg. Yes, I hobbled around for a while, but battled the pain, not wanting to tell everybody I had to quit playing from injuring myself while leaning over to pick up the ball.

Still hurts a little today, but nothing serious. I am a gamer, just as long as I don't get hit or have to hit anybody else.

You can mark me off the father-of-the-year list. On Wednesday, my brother-in-law, Danny, came up as we were going to smoke a turkey and ham, which turned out rather good. Anyway, we were getting the fire going when my wife called me and asked if I had picked up my daughter.

Oops. I looked at the clock and it was like 5:53 p.m. I was supposed to pick her up at 6 p.m. at a location some fifteen minutes away. I made record time, but was still five minutes late. I am not the type of person who likes to be late, especially when it comes to picking up my daughter.

But wait, I almost topped that. She was supposed to be back yesterday at 6 p.m. for the prisoner exchange. As we left my mother-in-law's house, she climbed in the truck. She usually rides with my wife, who was going to stay a little longer.

I asked my daughter why she was riding with me and the boys instead of the wife. She said something to the effect that my wife didn't know when she would get away. Turns out, riding with me was the only way she could get back on time. Another brain poot, something that tends to happen way too often.

We haven't fooled all our customers into thinking we are closed today, dangit. Some have already came by and others are calling to see if we are open.

This needs to be a blowoff day as everybody recovers from eating too much. Saw where the new xbox 360 was going for up to $5,000 on eBay. Speaking of brain poots.

11-23-05

Found something interesting this morning. Heard the dogs going crazy but couldn't figure out what it was. Later, I went out to feed the dogs. Found Gabby, our half Akita, half Rottweiler chewing on a dadgum deer leg in our backyard.

Don't have any idea where the rest of the deer was. That was a first for me. She was pretty proud of it. The leg was about from the knee down, The skin and hoof were still attached.

Should have gotten a picture. Maybe later if it is still there and I'll share.

The madness that is Thanksgiving is starting to hit. We're going to smoke a turkey and ham this evening to take to my mother-in-law's house tomorrow.

Pardon me for a second while I make male gutteral sounds. There, much better.

We should be slow today, but I figure the phone will ring off the hook, like it has done all week. A lot of the callers will want to find out if we're open today and Friday.

Hope everybody has a Happy Thanksgiving.

11-22-05

One of our puppies is gone. My brother-in-law got one of the girls yesterday, leaving us three males and two females.

I have tried to keep my distance from them and not get attached, but that is almost impossible. My wife and the kids would like to keep all of them, but that would give us way too many dogs.

Here is a picture I posted of two of the puppies on webaperture, a photo site where people can post pictures and receive comments.

They were seven weeks old yesterday. We have to watch out for them as they sometimes escape down the steps of the deck and whine until somebody rescues them.

This should be a slow week at work but we were swamped yesterday. Way behind on a lot of stuff and hearing about it on a daily basis. We only get off on Thanksgiving Day, which is a bummer.

I started a thread on Heavener Online today about Thanksgiving memories. Thought I would share an expanded version here.

When we were kids, we always used to go to my grandmother and grandfather Hall's for Thanksgiving. My father had three brothers and a sister and they all had two or three children, so we would have a good crowd.

They all lived off so Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only times when we would all get together.

The food was always good, but that wasn't all that important when you're a kid, it's the fun you have playing with your cousins and uncles. Since the crowd was so large, the eating areas were split into three places.

The adults would eat at the big table in the dining room while the younger kids would eat in the kitchen, close enough that if they acted up, their parents were close by.

The older kids would eat in the family room. We would have access to the television and the football games. We would alternate being playing and watching the game, especially once the Cowboys were playing.

Our own football games were played across the street at the school, where there was a large grassy area that has since been replaced by parking for the students.

We had some great games over there with all the guys playing, even the adults. It didn't matter how cold it was, we were playing football. The women and girls would sometimes come outside, but generally were smart enough to stay inside where it was warmer.

If we really felt brave, we went up to the high school field. There was usually a good game going on there, also.

It's strange that as a child, I relished the large crowds and how hectic everything was. Now, as an adult, I go to my mother-in-law's house. The crowd is almost as big and seems a lot more hectic and not nearly as fun.

That seems to be the trend as an adult when it comes to fun, though. We don't do Thanksgivings at my grandparent's house any longer. My grandfather passed away in the early 1990s.

My grandmother is almost 90 now and living in a retirement home in Fort Smith. It just isn't the same.

11-21-05 (the sequel)

Now, this is really something you wanted to see, eh? I was playing with my camera the other day, wanting to take pictures of bugs, etc.

It was kind of windy and had not seen anything and was about to give up when I saw this fly on my truck.

The fly was a strange color and I was using a new lens combination and wanted to see how good the lens would do with a macro picture.

So I took the picture of this fly. I loaded it up on my computer and it sat there for several days. Finally, I was looking at another picture and started deleting some that I wasn't real happy with.

I started to delete this one when Presto! I discovered a little jewel. The fly had just taken a dump! True, it was on my truck and I don't generally enjoy feces on my vehicle, but how often has a person seen fly crap?

Looks like it needs to firm up its stool. Maybe it borrowed some of that stool softenener from the previous blog.

11-21-05

I was talking to an older man the other day. Really nice guy. Every time we talk, he asks about my father's health and then goes into his own health problems.

I am nice enough to listen. Of course, I hope he is doing okay and will listen to him. The other day, he happened to mention that he was doing really good (which I was glad to hear) and his only problem was taking medicine to soften his bowel movements.

Whoa! That's going over the line. Personally, I draw the line when it comes to hearing about somebody needing to take medicine so their droppings are softer.

My gosh, I am not the least bit shy. But I can never imagine telling somebody, "Why yes, I am doing well, thank you. That stool softener pill is really doing wonders!"

Nope, not gonna happen. You always have to be careful about asking some people how they are doing. This always happens to me. I'll try to act nice and interested and ask somebody how they are doing.

This is just being nice and more of a greeting than an actual give me your medical history. I hope everybody is doing okay, but I don't want to hear everything that is going on with a person's health.

A lot of the older people can spend hours talking about everything wrong with them. I think Congress or the Senate should make it illegal to talk more than, say, two minutes about a person's health. If it goes longer, they should be penalized and made to watch The Best of Lawrence Welk.

Actually, that probably wouldn't be much punishment, except for younger people. Make them watch MTV or something like that. I know that would be punishing for me.

Today is Monday. Thanksgiving is three days away. I was telling my wife about when I lived in Texas back in the late 80s. I always had to work Thanksgiving morning and the next day, so I couldn't get back home.

It was just me and I wasn't going to all of the trouble of doing a Thanksgiving meal, so for a couple of years, my meal was a hamburger from Whataburger in Denison, Texas. There were always like two workers and some other lonely person in the place eating.

The workers would look at me like I was homeless, or something. It didn't bother me. A Whataburger didn't rank up there with the Fuddrucker burger, but at least it was fast and easy. Then, I would go home and veg out the rest of the day.

11-20-05

Okay, I am going to start writing the blog again. Been tied up a lot (not in like a you-know-what way), just get real busy and forget the important things in life. Guess I'll need to change it from a semi-daily blog to a monthly one.

Had our second Thanksgiving dinner of the year today after church. One more to go and we can bid that adios. Our puppies will be seven weeks old tomorrow. Little farts are all over everything. They are living on our back deck and just in case you didn't know it, six puppies tend to make doo-doo frequently.

We have to clean it off at least once a day just to walk through the minefield that is our back deck. There's a shovel on the deck for a poop scooper.

They are still trying to get some milk from Daisy, who has shied away from that since the puppies got teeth. Yes, they have teeth. Sharp little puppy teeth.

Still trying to recover from the OU-Texas Tech game yesterday. Refs botched two calls at the end that allowed Tech to win. Nothing will come of it, of course, but they were two of the worst calls in a football game I have ever seen. Fortunately, it was only my dog, Buddy, and me watching the game.

He was lying on the couch next to me. Apparently, I must have hollered at the television and the officials (like that would do any good) and he moved over to the chair and looked at me like I was an idiot, a look he shares with my wife, at times.

Usually I reserve this sort of behavior for the Texas game. This is the first time I've actually hollered at the television for a long time. Sometimes I'll tell the television whatever just happened was a stupid call.

The television never has answered back, which is probably good as it would look rather strange having a conversation with a television.

This morning, the Fort Smith paper had a story on the game courtesy of the Associated Press. The writer didn't even mention one of the terrible calls and blew the other away like it wasn't that big of a deal.