BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Back in the 70’s, C. W. McCall (Bill Fries) along with Chip Davis (Yeah, THAT Chip Davis) wrote a song called Green River. If you’d like to listen to the original, here’s a link:

I suppose you are  probably wondering why I am even bringing up an almost 40 year old song. Well, you see, it’s like this: Evil Kat.

Come on… You knew The Supreme Redhead had to be involved in this somehow…

Back in the days when it was just E K and her leashed pets – that being two canines and one husband (I can’t complain, she bought me a really nice collar with an engraved tag that said Property of Evil Kat on it) we used to go on float trips CONSTANTLY. For non-Missourians – as I have found that the term “float-trip” is not universal – a float trip is where you rent a canoe, get dropped off with it and your coolers, and paddle/float yourself down a river to the “take-out point,” which can either be where you parked originally, or a different place where they pick you up and bring you back to your car.

This is intended to be fun. As a rule, it usually is. Like I said, back in the day, E K would leash us up, put us in the car, and off we’d go. There was one year I recall that we went on float trips almost every weekend for the entire summer. AND, truth be told, a float trip was EKay’s and my first official date – and she still married me anyway. But that’s a different blog that I’ll tell sometime in the future.

At any rate, back to the here and now. For several years after the O-spring came along, we stopped “floating” – primarily due to time constraints. However, now that she is older and can come along with us, and can swim, and all that good stuff, E K has made it her mission in life to see to it that we go on at least one float per summer, if not more. With that, she has started scheduling an end of summer float with friends for the past two years. One more year and it becomes a tradition…

Last year’s float, while it had a couple of mildly harrowing incidents, was almost completely unremarkable as compared to this year’s canoeing odyssey – which occurred just yesterday,  Saturday August 27…

I knew it would become a blog when we were less than a mile into the float. Why? Because Steve, Mary, and Tammy flipped. Not as in “flipped someone off,” or “flipped out”… Although, they DID flip out of the canoe, so I guess in a way they DID flip out. Basically, Mary’s sunglasses “flipped” off her head, Steve tried to grab them, they all shifted in the canoe, and… Well… Moments later we were standing on a gravel bar emptying water from their craft and then reloading it with their coolers.

But what REALLY told me this would be a blog was that while we were reloading their “boat,” some other canoers came around the bend, merrily singing “Row, Row, Row your boat.” To this, a waterlogged Mary muttered under her breath, “I’ll show you row, row your f*cking boat… Quit your damn singing.”

After that, it was all over for us. The river proceeded to exact revenge upon each and every member of our group. E K, O-Spring, and I flipped – something that literally has NOT happened since the second time E K and I went floating (We are actually pretty damn good “canoe drivers”). Mary was taken down by a slippery rock and banged the crap out of her knee. Same thing then happened to the O-spring. We were caught in a snag and I had to bail out of the canoe and fight the current to get us free. Later, during a similar operation I was sucked under the canoe while E K and the O-spring were still aboard and became a speed bump after I loosed it – then the current popped me back up above the surface, but still had hold of me and I tumbled over rocks for several feet until I could get a handhold. Of course, E K and the O-spring were now 300 yards down the river and I had to walk the rocks to get to them. There was plenty more, actually, but this blog is already over 1000 words, so I need to give it a bit of a rest… Instead, what I will try to do is recount our adventure through rewriting C. W.’s tune…

Meramec River

It was daylight on the river but we weren’t having any fun
And we couldn’t find our cooler cups no more
But we felt the boilin’ current and the spring was runnin’ cold
As we headed down the river two plus four
And the rocks were kickin’ our asses
On the day we ran the rapids of the Meramec

[Chorus]
And we died a thousand times in that nine miles of hell
The longest day of life we’d ever seen
But we lived to tell the story and we know the story well
Then we ate some dinner at a truck stop

We were four plus two in number when we gathered on the shore
And we loaded up our coolers full of beer
But we summoned up our courage an’ we said we wouldn’t scream
And we ran that rocky river without fear
Yeah, the logs were kickin’ our asses
On the day we ran the rapids of the Meramec

Echoing Shouts:
Steve – Paddle RIGHT!
E K – HANG LEFT!
Mary – WHAT THE FUUUU–
Tammy – GODDAMIT!
Murv – Here, hold my beer…
O-spring – Squeeeeeee!

And we saw a thousand floaters hung up on the snags and logs
As we fought to keep ourselves from their fate
And we saw the bobbing beer cans and we heard the ghostly cries
Of the drunks who ran the river long ago
And the rocks were kickin’ our asses
On the day we ran the rapids of the Meramec

Echoing Shouts:
Steve – Paddle LEFT!
E K – SERPENTINE! SERPENTINE!
Mary – STOP SINGING!!
Tammy – GODDAMIT!
Murv – Here, hold my beer…
O-spring – Squeeeeeee!
Steve – Whatever…
Mary – Dammit, Steve!
E K – Those assholes just threw trash in the river!
Tammy – GODDAMMIT!
Murv – (clunk clunk) … I’m okay… I think…Gimme a beer…
O-Spring – Squeeeeee!

Now the memories are swirlin’ down the campground shower drains
But the waters of the Meramec flow like tears
And the rocks and snags and crashes will be a long remembered tale
To be told around the campfires through the years
Yeah, the rocks were tryin’ to kill us
On the day we ran the rapids of the Meramec

[Chorus]
And we died a thousand times in that nine miles of hell
The longest day of life we’d ever seen
But we lived to tell the story and we know the story well
Then we ate some dinner at a truck stop

Echoing Shouts:
Steve – Paddle RIGHT… NO, LEFT!
E K – O-spring, give me the paddle!
Mary – I can’t bend my knee…
Tammy – GODDAMIT!
Murv – We should have brought Scotch…
O-spring – Squeeeeeee!
Steve – Lookit that fish…
Mary – How does our canoe look?
E K – Look, Mary, a snake…
Mary – (SCREAM)
Tammy – GODDAMMIT!
Murv – There’s a blog in this…
O-Spring – Here, hold my Gatorade…

Fade out

And there you have it. We made it home alive… Late. We’re bruised and battered and sore and blood was shed (I’m not kidding)…

Funny thing is, I have a physical tomorrow. Before you ask, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just a “coming up on 50,000 mile” service check sort of thing. I suspect the doc won’t even mention the bruises and scrapes. He’s used to seeing me after E K has been “in a mood”…

More to come…

Murv

It really was one of those truly peculiar moments in life.

I mean the kind where you feel that sudden rush of elation because you know that the finely crafted, long-thought-out trap you have set has sprung, and in the process has snared the prey. Of course, what makes it so peculiar is that the bubble of elation pops quickly, and is replaced all at once by the vacuum of realization that you have no clue what you are going to do with said prey now that you have snared it.

Of course, that is also followed by the gut-wrenching fear you feel because of exactly what that prey is. In this case, it was a redhead.

I suppose I should back up a bit…

You see, around here, one of the favored snacks of Her Supreme Royal Redheaded Highness, the O-spring, and, well, Moi, is Triscuits. However, we especially like them after you lay them out on a plate, sprinkle them liberally with shredded cheese, then take them for a spin in the microwave for 15 – 45 seconds. Timing is crucial, but there’s a wide range. It largely depends on the type of cheese, as well as the thickness of the shred layer you lay down.

You don’t want them to go too long, otherwise the cheese goes nuclear and all but evaporates. Too little and the shreds are just a little sweaty, so they fall off. Nope… You have to time it exactly, so that you achieve the proper level of melty clingage and bubbly cheesiness. A second too much, and even if you don’t evaporate the cheese you end up with molten dairy lava that will take the skin right off your lips and the roof of your mouth.

Not good at all…

But, yeah, I’m sorta digressing. You see, the thing here is that whenever E K or the O-spring fixes themselves a plate of Melty Triscuit Treats, they eat them. I know… Sort of a natural progression. Makes all kinds of sense. Except when you add this to the mix: Whenever I make myself a plate of Melty Triscuit Treats, they eat them.

See what I mean? Kinda makes you wonder how it is that I know that I actually like them, eh? I mean, what with me not getting to eat them and all.

Well, that’s where the trap came in. As it happens, I like spicy food. Peppery spicy is my friend. I am a bit of a connoisseur of peppers, as much as a redneck like myself can be a connoisseur. Anyhow, that being the case, I happen to have a bottle of ground Chipotle pepper in the cabinet. If you are unfamiliar with Chipotle, it is a smoked Jalapeño. Good stuff.

See where I’m heading? Well, just in case you are being a little myopic today, allow me to explain: I discovered that I like ground Chipotle sprinkled on my Melty Triscuit Treats. I figured this out when I was home alone and fixed myself a plate of the little snack squares. I wanted to jazz them up a bit, and, well, there you go…

But, back to that whole trap thing…

So, I sprinkled my Melty Triscuit Treats with ground Chipotle, started them rotating in the microwave, then stepped out for the briefest of moments. As I exited the kitchen, a red blur flew past me on it’s way into said kitchen. I’m sure you can guess the identity of the blur. It’s like she had Melty Triscuit Treats radar or something.

Evil Kat being Evil

Anywho, the microwave squealed that it was finished, all the while joined by the excited clack of stiletto heels as The Redhead danced about in anticipation. A split second later I heard the door of the appliance open, and then… wait for it… the scream.

At first it was sort of a pained yelp, and that was followed by a rather loud, “What The…” Then, Her Worship began demanding my presence via her typical, stern,  “Lackey! Come here, NOW!”

I had to explain what I had done to the Melty Triscuit Treats, as they did not meet with her approval. I muttered something about ill gotten gains, and that’s pretty much the last thing I remember before waking up on the floor with crushed up, Chipotle sprinkled, Melty Triscuit Treats and size 7 E K shoe prints all over me.

I guess that’ll teach me to fix myself a snack, now won’t it?

More to come…

Murv