" /> BRAINPAN LEAKAGE » Tammy Jean
  • Whoa! Was That A Sasquatch?

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    “You’re absolutely sure?” the park ranger asked.

    “Yeah,” I told her with a nod. “I think we’ll be okay.”

    “We have a confirmed sighting,” she insisted. “From what I’ve been told this particular Sasquatch must have already raided another campsite because he was carrying a Coleman lantern when he was last seen.”

    “It wouldn’t happen to be a red headed Sasquatch, would it?” I asked.

    “How did you know?” she replied. “Have you seen it?”

    “Not recently.”

    “But you’ve seen it?”

    “You could say that.”

    “I see,” she answered with a nod. “Well, then you are aware of the danger. I really think you and your group should consider packing up and staying at a hotel in town.”

    “Seriously, we’ll be fine,” I assured her.

    “Suit yourself,” she said as she climbed back into her official forestry service vehicle and started the engine. “But don’t say you weren’t warned.”

    My wife and I waved goodbye as the Ranger drove away through the night and we continued to watch after her until the tail lights eventually disappeared. In the silence that ensued we just stared into the darkness and scanned the murky woods.

    “So, do you think we should go look for him?” E K finally asked.

    I started to agree with her plan, but then noticed a lightning bug that didn’t seem to be winking quite like the others; not to mention the fact that it seemed to be following a much less erratic flight plan than its cohorts. In fact, it was traveling a fairly linear course. It also glowed white as opposed to the yellow pinpoints that were obviously firefly butts. I watched it bob along in the distance as it flickered in a rapid staccato. Before long it dawned on me that I was watching a Coleman lantern moving between the trunks of the distant trees.

    “That’s him right there, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing at the faraway glow.

    Before my wife could answer we heard the drawn out echo of Chris’ voice as he whooped an unintelligible, yet gleefully inebriated cry. The light stopped for a moment, swung back and forth, then started bobbing again as it slowly grew in size.

    “I think you’re right,” E K said. “That’s him and now he’s coming this way.”

    I turned back toward the camp. Folks were relaxing following a long day of canoeing down the Current river and a fine meal cooked over an open fire.  Chris’ wife Tammy, in particular, was sprawled out in a lounge chair with damp towels laying across her sunburned thighs and shoulders.

    “It looks like he’s heading back toward us,” I called out to her.

    She looked over her shoulder at me and said, “It’s about time, Gaaaahhhhdd-Dammit!”

    I didn’t think anything odd about her reply. You see, Tammy insists that “Gaaaahhhhdd” personally damn just about everything at least once each day. Just to make sure, she reminds “her” at repeated intervals throughout. And, when it came to Chris, well, let’s just say “Gaaaahhhhdd” had a standing damning order from Tammy Jean.

    The drunken yell was becoming louder in one of those bizarre, Doppler distorted sorts of ways. By the same token, the 6 foot plus, buck naked, carrot topped, Chris was looming more visible through the night as he drew closer.

    “He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop,” E K announced.

    “Yeah… I think you’re right,” I mumbled, then turned toward the camp again and announced, “Better make a hole, everybody. Here he comes.”

    They all looked up and noticed the naked freight train coming our way. E K and I stepped to either side of the path as the whooping madman shot between us. I turned just in time to see him snatch a beer from an open cooler as he barreled through the camp.

    “Chris, Gaaaahhhhdd-Dammit!” Tammy screamed, not entirely unexpectedly, of course.

    Mike just watched him run down the hill and along the gravel bar, a beer in one hand and the lantern in the other. As the soused-war cry faded he looked over at Carrie and said, “Yep… And there he goes.”

    Sandy, on the other hand, the chronicler of our group, had her camera slung around her neck and took off at a dead sprint behind the escaping lunatic. Her husband Mark just sat in his lawn chair and said, “Ya’know, I really don’t like Swiss cheese. It smells like feet.”

    Bill and Muffy missed the whole thing because they were off in their tent doing… Well… What Bill and Muffy generally did whenever they were in their tent, if you get my meaning.

    E K and I wandered back into the camp and pulled our chairs up near the fire.

    “How long do you think he’ll keep this up?” my wife asked.

    “I dunno, Gaaaahhhhdd-dammit,” Tammy mumbled.

    I cracked open a fresh beer and settled back into my seat. “Well, it’s been about two hours now… He’ll probably go until the lantern runs out of fuel or he comes within 20 feet or so of Mark’s Ford truck out there.”

    “Oh, yeah…” Tammy said with a nod. “Ford truck. That’s right. Gaaaahhhhdd-dammit.”

    Sometime around four in the morning we found Chris. He was sprawled in the bed of Mark’s Ford pickup just as I’d predicted, passed out and snoring so hard that the resulting shockwave caused Bill and Muffy’s tent to cave in on them – not that such seemed to have any ill effect on their activities, as evidenced by the rhythmic undulations of the nylon.  But, we had other fish to fry… Or, Sasquatches to rescue, I should say, because the clearing was filled with Park Rangers carrying nets and tranquilizer guns.

    In the end we managed to talk them into simply tagging Chris and letting him go.

    And, that’s why ever since then we only let him drink light beer.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • Of Math, Astronauts, And Farm Boys…

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    February 20th is one of those really, really momentous days in history…

    John Glenn and Friendship 7, Cape Canaveral, Feb 1962Some of you may remember, and by the same token, some of you may simply be too young to remember. You may have read about it in history books, but that would be as close as you came to touching it…

    So, what am I rambling about?

    47 years ago, on February 20, 1962, Astronaut John Glenn left this earth, and returned safely,  aboard a Mercury Space Capsule, dubbed Friendship 7. In doing so, he became the first American to orbit the earth.

    Just for the record, Alan Shepard was the first American Astronaut in space, aboard the Mercury Capsule Freedom 7, in May 1961. The distinction of first human being in space was earned by Russian Cosmonaut, Yuri Gegarin aboard Vostok 3KA-2 in April 1961, beating out the US by nearly a month.

    Those of you who know me, or have been following my blog for some time already know of my fascination with the space program. Even those of you who became readers of Brainpan Leakage only recently, are probably aware of this fact if you have been following the Mahwage series of entries. So, my apologies for spewing space trivia at you… It’s just one of those things.

    Still, taking all of the above, and more, into account, I suppose NASA and our space program have been major landmarks for some of the most important events in my life…

    • The Challenger Disaster and that fateful job interview that led me to meet, and eventually marry the love of my life, E K.
    • Apollo 11, the first manned mission to land on the moon. This would be when my teachers in elementary school suddenly realized I was academically way ahead of the curve. I believe what tipped them off was me walking into class with a detailed scale model of a Saturn V rocket I had built from scratch out of things I found around the house… (As in, I had no plastic modeling kit, just junk, pictures, and my imagination.)
    • And, yes, among other things, February 20, 1962

    You see, I have to admit I don’t clearly recall Astronaut Glenn’s historic orbits around the earth. At the time, I was in a small town called Fulton, Kentucky, and I  was somewhat preoccupied with being slapped around by a doctor, as I ventured naked,  screaming, and kicking into this world.

    Flowers from Samantha at 13 moons in Occoquan VA

    Yeah, today is my birthday. I awoke this morning to a Friday  just like any other Friday. Cleaning litterboxes, taking out the trash, getting my wife off to work, my daughter off to school, starting laundry, making calls to order parts for the kitchen faucet that elected to break at an inopportune moment, and even sitting down with a cup of coffee to get some other work done.

    But, today, in addition to that work, as  gift to myself I have spent my time piddling around on the Internet instead of tossing words at an upcoming novel… I mean, after all, it’s my birthday. I should have a little fun, right?

    Ever since last evening I’ve been receiving numerous emails from folks, countless postings on my Facebook wall, and even on my Myspace comments, all wishing me the best for the day and the year to come. I thank each and every one of you for those kind thoughts. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to send me those notes, because I am the first one to admit that I am terrible about doing so myself. I get a bit preoccupied and often forget about such things, especially since we didn’t really make a big deal about birthdays in my family. Still, I want you all to know that I appreciate it.

    Late this morning, I was even rousted from my comfortable chair here at my desk by someone pounding on my front door. To my surprise, when I answered it a lady presented me with the flowers pictured above… A gift from Samantha Beaty and 13 Magickal Moons, my favorite bookstore, (and bookstore owner), for signings, workshops, and even just plain visiting. I have a ton of friends there. Too bad they are in Virginia and I’m here in Missouri or I’d drop by and have a few drinks with the crew.

    Maker's Mark from MorrisonA few days ago, I received a delivery from my touring buddy, Dorothy Morrison. She sent me a bottle of booze, go figure. :lol:

    But, seriously, she knows I happen to be a big fan of Maker’s Mark, so she and her husband sent me a “patriotic” bottle of the fine Bourbon.

    She also made me promise I would open it and drink it… I said I would, but I’m not going to get in a hurry about it. I already have some Bourbon open, and besides, the red, white, and blue bottle looks pretty good up there on the shelf.

    Knowing my penchant for  odd T-Shirts as well, the box included one of those too. It is emblazoned with a furry critter and labeled with an easily recognizable stylized script, proclaiming him to be “Hairy Otter.” You can expect to see me wearing it at an upcoming gig this spring / summer / fall…

    …And who knows what’s in store for this evening. I couldn’t help but notice that E K laid out a bunch of leather items, stiletto heels, and such like before she left  for work this morning… Just kidding… Fact of the matter is, the poor woman had a horrid tension headache when she headed out, so I figure she will be the one on the receiving end of  the attention this evening. She’ll have to get all “Evil” on me some other time… And besides, like I said, birthday’s aren’t that big a deal on my side of the family, so we usually just have a quiet celebration with a few close friends, some stir-fry, and a whole mess of Sushi. I’m afraid that won’t be happening tonight, due to schedules and such, but we’ll be taking care of it in the near future… Tonight we’ll probably just sit around and watch Sarah Connor Chronicles, Dollhouse, and Numbers… Maybe I’ll even toss back a quiet Bourbon or two to celebrate…

    And, so, here I am… This old farm boy is another year older, officially and everything. Whether or not I am any wiser remains to be seen…

    On that note, Tammy Jean, a good friend of mine sent me an email a bit earlier, wishing me well on this day… In my response to her I discovered an interesting mathematical anomaly. I mentioned that my brain still felt 25, but that when I get up in the morning my body feels every bit of 72.

    Those were just the numbers than happened to roll out of my brain, for whatever reason… It wasn’t until I did the math that it made an odd sort of sense…

    You know, what with 72 minus 25 being equal to 47

    I wonder if there is a similar calculation for that elusive wisdom?

    More to come…

    Murv