So as I write you Jack Ass 3D is being released!!! I remember the first movie that came out with Johnnie knashville and the his crew. I watched it and remembered my days back at my old high school dorm. Those guys were the best!! We messed each other up and then horse laughed each other. I love and miss those guys. Sometimes it would come to blows but in the end we would always laugh....and we still do. Every now and then I play a hit on my own son. I will then laugh at him...then a day or later he will get me back. I laugh. I know one day I will come home tired from a long day at the office and something will hit me and leave me on the ground with thoughts in my head like "What the hell was that!!" And Thomas will be standing over me saying "Ahahahah, you fell for the oldest one in the book!!!" And I will laugh and say "I love you." He will say "Ha! You ol' fool! I love you too!!!"
Never come between a father and his love for his son. He as got good me several times already. The kid is a genious.He will best the best president the world has ever had!!
I remember the last time I saw my Grandfather Homer Firestone (the man for whom I was named for a foremost anthropologist and respected intellectual in his field) was dying of cancer and was able to accompany to the airport. He was under heavy painkillers so he could stand the small trip to the airport. I remember he reached over and pinched me. I thought my God that is soooo irritating and he said "You know I love you!!" That is the last memory I have of him. But that is the way we Firestones role.
Anyway, lots of guys out there know what I am talking about. I know my many of my woman readers don't know what I am talking about but even so. Take your man out to see Jack Ass 3D. If it seems stupid just look at him and laugh with him and love him. Because maleness maybe idiocy but in it self is genius!!!! If you don't believe me research several the most respectable art galleries in North America who have been already showing the movie.
Enjoy your weekend and don't be a snob.
Have a great weekend.
FeO2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKwjU_pSSW4
http://rustyscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
Three Religiions
Facing the wall
Friday. 24th of Sept., 2010, The perfect proletariat evening!
So I was thinking "What am I going to do this pm? Will it be steaks, nice Italian, fancy French?" Not very long after I got a call from Tammy saying "I really-really need a kabob sandwich tonight." I told her "Sounds good lets do it". 20minutes later I was picked up by a very beautiful woman in a ridiculous old Jeep Land cruiser. There was a passenger that I did not expect on board....my squawking cute daughter saying " I heard you are taking me to Mencho's Sexy Hot Dogs (the best hot dog in town)". I said "(Sigh) anything for you princess." Maddy "Yaaay!!! But what about Thomas who is at home right now.?"
"We will t him something too."
So we show up at this hole-in-the-wall hot dag stand which is run by this old burned out hippy, his stoned children, and God knows who else with my daughter beaming. The place is full of college students but I cut to the frontof the line and say "Two to go my friend!!"
Burned out hippy "Oh Doctor, good to see you...and you my love what is it you want on your dog this evening?"
Maddy "Everything but the cabbage and hot stuff please."
Hippy turning around to turn up the stereo in a sudden movement shouting "Holy Fuck everybody! It's our song!!!" Obviously referring to Pink Floyd's Brick in the Wall. Spontaneously everybody in the joint breaks in to broken English singing "All een all choo just another beeck in the wall....Hey teeecher leeeve them keeds alone!!!" It was midnight choir if I ever heard on at 7:30pm.
From hear it was on to Mohamed for a couple kabobs ordered over the phone. I got in and I saw my good buddy Mohamed being hassled by a local woman saying "I swear to God I thought you were from Iraq."
Mohamed red in the face with his back to her facing the grill "No I tell you woman I am Iranian...Persian...a completely different race and people"
Then I surprise him with "Really Mohamed. I always thought you were Russian."
He turned to me surprised but quickly recovered and said "No that is my next wife!!" His wife standing right next to him rolled her eyes and said "Perhaps in your next stupid Muslim existence." We all laughed.
Then I wrapped it all up took it all home spread it across a heavy thick mid evil like wood table with a litre and a half of beer and had a great Friday night dinner talking my wife, son, and daughter over dinner.
I think I spent 8 dollars but the company from the beginning to the end was priceless!!! And people ask me why I live here.
God bless Cochabamba!! Bringing people and the community together.
FeO2
"We will t him something too."
So we show up at this hole-in-the-wall hot dag stand which is run by this old burned out hippy, his stoned children, and God knows who else with my daughter beaming. The place is full of college students but I cut to the frontof the line and say "Two to go my friend!!"
Burned out hippy "Oh Doctor, good to see you...and you my love what is it you want on your dog this evening?"
Maddy "Everything but the cabbage and hot stuff please."
Hippy turning around to turn up the stereo in a sudden movement shouting "Holy Fuck everybody! It's our song!!!" Obviously referring to Pink Floyd's Brick in the Wall. Spontaneously everybody in the joint breaks in to broken English singing "All een all choo just another beeck in the wall....Hey teeecher leeeve them keeds alone!!!" It was midnight choir if I ever heard on at 7:30pm.
From hear it was on to Mohamed for a couple kabobs ordered over the phone. I got in and I saw my good buddy Mohamed being hassled by a local woman saying "I swear to God I thought you were from Iraq."
Mohamed red in the face with his back to her facing the grill "No I tell you woman I am Iranian...Persian...a completely different race and people"
Then I surprise him with "Really Mohamed. I always thought you were Russian."
He turned to me surprised but quickly recovered and said "No that is my next wife!!" His wife standing right next to him rolled her eyes and said "Perhaps in your next stupid Muslim existence." We all laughed.
Then I wrapped it all up took it all home spread it across a heavy thick mid evil like wood table with a litre and a half of beer and had a great Friday night dinner talking my wife, son, and daughter over dinner.
I think I spent 8 dollars but the company from the beginning to the end was priceless!!! And people ask me why I live here.
God bless Cochabamba!! Bringing people and the community together.
FeO2
Friday, May 14,2010, Rusty's weekend rules of engagement.
For those of you going garage sale shopping this weekend there are several things one must keep in mind:
1) You must check the classifieds the night before. This is to plan out a route through town hitting all the garages systematical. This is done using those little red stick-pin flags and a wall map of your town or city in which you reside.
2) You must have an early start. I recommend leaving early from the house at 6:30 at the latest. This is the way the dieharders do it. Of course the dieharders have already been retired for like 20 years and practice every weekend.
3) Always take one or more adolescent/preadolescent on threat on loosing video game time at the house. This is so they learn to respect our proud heritage of free commerce no matter how humiliated they may be. The typical activity for your offspring to cower in embarrassment in the back seat. One might catch them laying down on the floor board behind the front seat.
4) Apparel. There is a uniform for every part of life whether it be work, casual, or what ever. Garage saleing is no exception. Back in my day as a youth was classic/vintage double knit was apropos but the times they are a changin'. If you appear in this get-up you might be deemed to as some kinda club rager. What the trendy hip garage salers are wearing now days would be sweat pants (cut offs), white sox with black penniloafers. You top is pretty much optional but anything with lyon or pickup trucks printed on the chest would be my suggestion. This outfit works for both male or female. What ever is your choice try to make it as sporty as possible. Remember you want to let people know that this is almost a sport.
5) Lingo. Every activity not only has an atire but also has a techy language. Here will give you a few phrases to build on. "I'll give you 2 bucks for everything I can stuff in this laundry basket.", "$10 for everything I can stuff into my trunk!","Oooo an MTV 'Rock the Vote 2000 t-shirt! I voted for that sumbitch only to have him sell out for the next 8 years to them tree huggin' hippy freaks. Commie!", "Cool...a Rubixcube sticker replacement set. Does this come with a users manual?", and " Yeah, ya really got to come down at least 5 dollars on this box of National Geographics. The binding is broken. They all just flip open automatically to the pages with the pictures of the breast feeding New Guinea woman."
What you have to watch out for are statements from the the garage sellers like "They just dont make them like that anymore", "Walmart ain't had that in stalk for goin' on 3 months now!" and "Thems classic Readers Digest it has the interview with the entire casting of Perfect Strangers!"
6) Look for ways of getting into the garage sellers living room and other parts of the house. This can be done by looking for doors carelessly left open and what not. If this oppertunity presents itself you pretend to non-chalauntly wander around. Using slight of hand start grabbing stuff out off gun racks, out of the living room (diplomas, off of gun racks and family portrates) or the bathroom (cool meds, the "We don't pee in your pool..." sign, etc ). Then through all all your new found booty into a box and take it too the seller outside and say with a stern look on your face "How much for this worthless box of junk?!" The haggle them for %50 of the price. This way you can get stuff that is "exclusive" while the other chumps are outside rifling through boxes of Tupperwear lids, Raffi cassettes, used automotive parts, greasy incomplete tool sets, and portraits painted on old farm tools. Idiots!!
7) And last but not least, always take big bills preferable $100 notes. Pretend you dont have change and make the seller go down to the local convienience store to buy a twinky to break your bill. This by-the-way is a good way to get into the house while he/she is gone. wink-wink
I hope some of this information enhances your weekend garage warioring.
- Hide quoted text -
"I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching." Jack Handey
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland." Woody Allen
Peace
FeO2
http://rustyscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
1) You must check the classifieds the night before. This is to plan out a route through town hitting all the garages systematical. This is done using those little red stick-pin flags and a wall map of your town or city in which you reside.
2) You must have an early start. I recommend leaving early from the house at 6:30 at the latest. This is the way the dieharders do it. Of course the dieharders have already been retired for like 20 years and practice every weekend.
3) Always take one or more adolescent/preadolescent on threat on loosing video game time at the house. This is so they learn to respect our proud heritage of free commerce no matter how humiliated they may be. The typical activity for your offspring to cower in embarrassment in the back seat. One might catch them laying down on the floor board behind the front seat.
4) Apparel. There is a uniform for every part of life whether it be work, casual, or what ever. Garage saleing is no exception. Back in my day as a youth was classic/vintage double knit was apropos but the times they are a changin'. If you appear in this get-up you might be deemed to as some kinda club rager. What the trendy hip garage salers are wearing now days would be sweat pants (cut offs), white sox with black penniloafers. You top is pretty much optional but anything with lyon or pickup trucks printed on the chest would be my suggestion. This outfit works for both male or female. What ever is your choice try to make it as sporty as possible. Remember you want to let people know that this is almost a sport.
5) Lingo. Every activity not only has an atire but also has a techy language. Here will give you a few phrases to build on. "I'll give you 2 bucks for everything I can stuff in this laundry basket.", "$10 for everything I can stuff into my trunk!","Oooo an MTV 'Rock the Vote 2000 t-shirt! I voted for that sumbitch only to have him sell out for the next 8 years to them tree huggin' hippy freaks. Commie!", "Cool...a Rubixcube sticker replacement set. Does this come with a users manual?", and " Yeah, ya really got to come down at least 5 dollars on this box of National Geographics. The binding is broken. They all just flip open automatically to the pages with the pictures of the breast feeding New Guinea woman."
What you have to watch out for are statements from the the garage sellers like "They just dont make them like that anymore", "Walmart ain't had that in stalk for goin' on 3 months now!" and "Thems classic Readers Digest it has the interview with the entire casting of Perfect Strangers!"
6) Look for ways of getting into the garage sellers living room and other parts of the house. This can be done by looking for doors carelessly left open and what not. If this oppertunity presents itself you pretend to non-chalauntly wander around. Using slight of hand start grabbing stuff out off gun racks, out of the living room (diplomas, off of gun racks and family portrates) or the bathroom (cool meds, the "We don't pee in your pool..." sign, etc ). Then through all all your new found booty into a box and take it too the seller outside and say with a stern look on your face "How much for this worthless box of junk?!" The haggle them for %50 of the price. This way you can get stuff that is "exclusive" while the other chumps are outside rifling through boxes of Tupperwear lids, Raffi cassettes, used automotive parts, greasy incomplete tool sets, and portraits painted on old farm tools. Idiots!!
7) And last but not least, always take big bills preferable $100 notes. Pretend you dont have change and make the seller go down to the local convienience store to buy a twinky to break your bill. This by-the-way is a good way to get into the house while he/she is gone. wink-wink
I hope some of this information enhances your weekend garage warioring.
- Hide quoted text -
"I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching." Jack Handey
"I can't listen to that much Wagner. I start getting the urge to conquer Poland." Woody Allen
Peace
FeO2
http://rustyscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
Wed., Feb.3, 2010:Tree planting and Naughty Leftism up the Holler.
As of late i have been under pressure from friends as well as my wife to relate my latest experiences on the mountain just behind my home where I live. As I am feeling the pressure to perform this might be somewhat dry.
Anywho last Sunday in the early morning I was awakened by the community loudspeaker making an announcement. Tammy rolled over and nudged me saying "You better find out what that was all about." and then rolled over and went back to sleep. She was referring to the fact that we have had several conversations on how we need to get more involved in the local community water syndicate/cooperative. Unfortunately Tammy and I do not speak Quechua, which is the local language most spoken in our community as well as the language in which the the announcements are made in. I had to find some help. So I called up a good friend of mine who is one of the water syndicate directors for some assistance. Over the the crackling Bolivian telephone system I her Don Eusebio's sleepy voice say "'alo". I then presented my query and was responded "Oh no today there is no meeting. We are doing a tree planting day. So you are going to have to send somebody to represent the Firestone Family. If you want you should talk to Don Francisco and offer him some money and he can go for you." I got off the phone and sat there for a moment. Then I decided "Hey, my body seems to be working as of late! Why don't I go and do it myself?" And that is just what I did.
After my morning egg, toast, and tea, I donned my hiking boots (which I have trusted for almost 15 years now) a pair of cargo khakis, a hat and weather shell. Then I was out to the shed to grab a pick to be on my way.
When I arrived at the forestry station (which is also the irrigation control center where there are various reservoir tanks all nestled in a small forest of eucalyptus trees) about a quarter click above my house I was surprised to see not only was the community gathered but also a platoon of soldiers from one of the local units. Everybody was gathered around a woman with a clip board standing above what looked to be about 700 to a 1000 pine and eucalyptus saplings. Most of the locals were there with their own implements but the syndicate was also handing out new picks to the soldiers. The commander barked out orders causing the soldiers to march forward grab a pick and pack 15 sapling's into a large sack that each one had. There was also a separate line for us civilians. When I joined this line I was told that I as well had to choose 15 of my own saplings at the registration point. Upon hearing this I then informed the people around me that I had no idea that I would be hauling my own trees as this was my first experience with this particular project. The check-in woman said "You have time to go home and get something."
Slightly frustrated I began my trip home. I got down about 30 metres and turned the corner around the first reservoir tank and ran into Don Eusebio. In my surprise I said "I thought you would be sending somebody?"
He said with a smile "Oh no I am one of the directors. People will start saying things if I don't show up!"
"Well I am on my way down to get a bag as we have to carry 15 sapling a piece...oh and you will need a bag as well because you only are bringing a pick." I grunted,
Don Eusebio proclaimed "15 that is an outrage! Never mind the bag boy. Come with me."
Upon arrival back at the group meeting place Don Eusebio turned to me with a wink "I'll show you how we do this. Now always wait at the back of the line chatting with your neighbor friends until most of the trees are gone" This is what we did. We leaned on our picks chit-chatting while Don Eudebio introduced me to the neighbors. Then at what seemed to be a random point in time I was indicated to move forward following my guide. Don Eusebio smiling to the woman with the writing pad "We have no bags so we will just have to carry what we can in our hands. So that will probably be 5 or so a piece" That was when I got the bright idea of taking my shell off to use a sappling transportation tool. "Hey look what I'm doing Don Eusebio. Now we can carry a lot more than that. Man I am such an idiot that I did not think of this before! :-D" I was given a not so congratulatory look from my guide.
So we loaded up 20 trees and started up the hill as the others were doing the same. Then my guide turned to me and said "Here is what we'll do. Well will start planting here at the bottom and let the rest of those fools carry their trees all the way up there. Hee-hee!" Unfortunately the going was not all that easy as the particular location where we were was already over populated with trees and the only open areas were very rocky. This discovery made Don Eusebio change his plans. "It looks as if we will have to be going up higher then."
As he walked ahead of me carrying our picks and I the swaddled remaining 15 trees Don Eusebio would greet all the locals on their way down "Oh I see you have already completed you community task comrade. Good for you. We have only a few more trees to plant ourselves. We have just planted about 16 or so trees toward the bottom and decided because of the overpopulation down there it would only fair to Pachamama that we plant in the areas where there are less trees. Is that not right Rusty"
Rusty "Well, I...uuuh..you know..."
"By the way this is Dr. Firestone. You know the guy who is the director of the projects that brings doctors from North America?'
The Comrade "Well, I ...uuuh...sure!"
At this point they both started speaking in Quechua and Don Eusebio started nodding profusely. He turned to me and said "The Comrade just told me that if we follow this trail about 30 meters and then take a sharp left directly up that hill over yonder there are a whole bunch of old holes from the last project where people planted trees and the trees dried up. We just find these holes and we will not have to dig hardly at all we just plug the trees in and cave the hole in. Hee-hee! "
So that is how we planted our last trees. On the way back down the hill Don Eusebio triumphantly announced to all the other beginner tree planters "If you go up that hill over there you will find a bunch of holes to plant in. That is what we did." He did this repeatedly all the way back to the forestry station. When we finally sat down to rest he said "I sent so many people up that hill they will all be bumping asses just trying to find holes. Hee-hee!" Interestingly enough Eusebio is not a man given to puns or irony.
It was then one of the other syndicate director friends of Don Eusebio came up with an old Seven-Up bottle full of thick purple liquid. I said "Oh that's the stuff you drink with bunuelos (a type Bolivian fry bread)". The director chuckled and spoke in Quechua "Blah-blah-blah api" Which later I found out he said "Heh-heh. The gringo thinks I am giving him api (a Bolivian warmed morning drink)." When I lifted the glass to my lips I found the error of my thinking. It was not api at all but in fact chicha (a corn brewed indigenous alcohol)! this is an ancient drink that has been drank by the local Native Americans since before the time of the ancient Incas. It is served into a gourd bowl usually and the recipient then as part of the toast is to swish it around enough till it splashes out on the ground as to offer the Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) the first drink so the trees will grow strong and healthy.
I said with slight surprise to my error "Whatever...pour me another."
FeO2
Anywho last Sunday in the early morning I was awakened by the community loudspeaker making an announcement. Tammy rolled over and nudged me saying "You better find out what that was all about." and then rolled over and went back to sleep. She was referring to the fact that we have had several conversations on how we need to get more involved in the local community water syndicate/cooperative. Unfortunately Tammy and I do not speak Quechua, which is the local language most spoken in our community as well as the language in which the the announcements are made in. I had to find some help. So I called up a good friend of mine who is one of the water syndicate directors for some assistance. Over the the crackling Bolivian telephone system I her Don Eusebio's sleepy voice say "'alo". I then presented my query and was responded "Oh no today there is no meeting. We are doing a tree planting day. So you are going to have to send somebody to represent the Firestone Family. If you want you should talk to Don Francisco and offer him some money and he can go for you." I got off the phone and sat there for a moment. Then I decided "Hey, my body seems to be working as of late! Why don't I go and do it myself?" And that is just what I did.
After my morning egg, toast, and tea, I donned my hiking boots (which I have trusted for almost 15 years now) a pair of cargo khakis, a hat and weather shell. Then I was out to the shed to grab a pick to be on my way.
When I arrived at the forestry station (which is also the irrigation control center where there are various reservoir tanks all nestled in a small forest of eucalyptus trees) about a quarter click above my house I was surprised to see not only was the community gathered but also a platoon of soldiers from one of the local units. Everybody was gathered around a woman with a clip board standing above what looked to be about 700 to a 1000 pine and eucalyptus saplings. Most of the locals were there with their own implements but the syndicate was also handing out new picks to the soldiers. The commander barked out orders causing the soldiers to march forward grab a pick and pack 15 sapling's into a large sack that each one had. There was also a separate line for us civilians. When I joined this line I was told that I as well had to choose 15 of my own saplings at the registration point. Upon hearing this I then informed the people around me that I had no idea that I would be hauling my own trees as this was my first experience with this particular project. The check-in woman said "You have time to go home and get something."
Slightly frustrated I began my trip home. I got down about 30 metres and turned the corner around the first reservoir tank and ran into Don Eusebio. In my surprise I said "I thought you would be sending somebody?"
He said with a smile "Oh no I am one of the directors. People will start saying things if I don't show up!"
"Well I am on my way down to get a bag as we have to carry 15 sapling a piece...oh and you will need a bag as well because you only are bringing a pick." I grunted,
Don Eusebio proclaimed "15 that is an outrage! Never mind the bag boy. Come with me."
Upon arrival back at the group meeting place Don Eusebio turned to me with a wink "I'll show you how we do this. Now always wait at the back of the line chatting with your neighbor friends until most of the trees are gone" This is what we did. We leaned on our picks chit-chatting while Don Eudebio introduced me to the neighbors. Then at what seemed to be a random point in time I was indicated to move forward following my guide. Don Eusebio smiling to the woman with the writing pad "We have no bags so we will just have to carry what we can in our hands. So that will probably be 5 or so a piece" That was when I got the bright idea of taking my shell off to use a sappling transportation tool. "Hey look what I'm doing Don Eusebio. Now we can carry a lot more than that. Man I am such an idiot that I did not think of this before! :-D" I was given a not so congratulatory look from my guide.
So we loaded up 20 trees and started up the hill as the others were doing the same. Then my guide turned to me and said "Here is what we'll do. Well will start planting here at the bottom and let the rest of those fools carry their trees all the way up there. Hee-hee!" Unfortunately the going was not all that easy as the particular location where we were was already over populated with trees and the only open areas were very rocky. This discovery made Don Eusebio change his plans. "It looks as if we will have to be going up higher then."
As he walked ahead of me carrying our picks and I the swaddled remaining 15 trees Don Eusebio would greet all the locals on their way down "Oh I see you have already completed you community task comrade. Good for you. We have only a few more trees to plant ourselves. We have just planted about 16 or so trees toward the bottom and decided because of the overpopulation down there it would only fair to Pachamama that we plant in the areas where there are less trees. Is that not right Rusty"
Rusty "Well, I...uuuh..you know..."
"By the way this is Dr. Firestone. You know the guy who is the director of the projects that brings doctors from North America?'
The Comrade "Well, I ...uuuh...sure!"
At this point they both started speaking in Quechua and Don Eusebio started nodding profusely. He turned to me and said "The Comrade just told me that if we follow this trail about 30 meters and then take a sharp left directly up that hill over yonder there are a whole bunch of old holes from the last project where people planted trees and the trees dried up. We just find these holes and we will not have to dig hardly at all we just plug the trees in and cave the hole in. Hee-hee! "
So that is how we planted our last trees. On the way back down the hill Don Eusebio triumphantly announced to all the other beginner tree planters "If you go up that hill over there you will find a bunch of holes to plant in. That is what we did." He did this repeatedly all the way back to the forestry station. When we finally sat down to rest he said "I sent so many people up that hill they will all be bumping asses just trying to find holes. Hee-hee!" Interestingly enough Eusebio is not a man given to puns or irony.
It was then one of the other syndicate director friends of Don Eusebio came up with an old Seven-Up bottle full of thick purple liquid. I said "Oh that's the stuff you drink with bunuelos (a type Bolivian fry bread)". The director chuckled and spoke in Quechua "Blah-blah-blah api" Which later I found out he said "Heh-heh. The gringo thinks I am giving him api (a Bolivian warmed morning drink)." When I lifted the glass to my lips I found the error of my thinking. It was not api at all but in fact chicha (a corn brewed indigenous alcohol)! this is an ancient drink that has been drank by the local Native Americans since before the time of the ancient Incas. It is served into a gourd bowl usually and the recipient then as part of the toast is to swish it around enough till it splashes out on the ground as to offer the Pacha Mama (Mother Earth) the first drink so the trees will grow strong and healthy.
I said with slight surprise to my error "Whatever...pour me another."
FeO2
Sunday, Jan. 24th 2010, Captains Blog: My slightly populated walden
So as the years turned into months, and the months turned into days, and the days turned into hours, and the hours turned into seconds, and finally time stood still to take a breath from its long unending march into infinity. It was there that it found and insignificant Rusty walking a small little country trail that lay below the ominous sight of a towering Titan god like mountain range called by humans "The Andes". The is same range that gave the little man (Rusty) the gift of seeing a pair of Ocelots (a small tawny endangered lynx like mountain cat) on a hike a different day.
This trip started out with a necessity which was that he had to go and pick up Thomas and Maddy from their friends house where they spent the night. Rusty left the house crossing the property climbing the steps to the guest house (which is en route off the property) to see the shiny eyed stare of Mr. Buns. This was an event as Tammy and Rusty had found that he was missing that same morning. The two mounted a search that turned out to be futile having learned that Mr. Bun's will show himself when he feels his hiatus is over. How can Mr. Buns be blamed? He is a Firestone after all. Rusty decided that he could not criticize his own.
After depositing Mr. Buns in his cage Rusty continued out the far gate through the bamboo garden off the property, following the water canal up to the swinging bridge to cross the river that was swollen by the previous nights rain. The evenings and rain which was part of the now seasonal summer rains had turned the trails into veins of overgrown green tentacles of life that reach out to you as you walk underneath the swaying eucalyptus trees. The time was cool as the clouds fought to keep out the sun but the sun was bound to win as it pushed rays in through unattended patches.
Upon my arrival at my friend’s house I was offered the gift of a celery stick and salad dressing to dip it in which I happily accepted.
Rusty told the children that today was a pedestrian day. Although not to happy they led the way back home. As they weaved through the country back on the same trail of which the little man had come they passed estate villas of the cities rich, the rich fields of flowers of the countries impoverished. They crossed the occasional river rock paved lane which transported the wealthy up and down from their weekend country homes to the city as well as some public transportation for those who were not so wealthy.
The little man to his amazement heard a sound break the silence of the wind and the trees. It was the sound of a lone voice accompanied by a charango (the Andean equivalent of a mandolin). He waited to see who it was. The little man, Rusty, soon was rewarded the sight of a crazy cross-eyed hippy walking down the lane singing and playing an Andean folk song and the top of his weed scorched lungs. Rusty had to admit he did sound pretty good but still had to control his mirth as it was too neighborly of a day to cause conflict. So the trio continued on their trek onward with the occasional complaint of Maddy who could not understand why were not taking some kind of vehicular transportation.
Later while Rusty sat on his hand made wood lawn chair resting from his hike staring at an eye-popping , hundred mile, clear view across the valley he saw Maddy come running up with Mr. Buns in her arms (the rabbit almost her size) saying "I solved the mystery of Mr. Buns escape!" In her hand was a piece of tile which she stated had fallen from the top of the adobe wall that surrounds the property. "This brick fell on Mr. Bun’s cage knocking it open and letting him out!" she smiled proudly. The little man said “Good job Sweety!". She beamed “Now I am putting him back into his house." She then carried the seeming gigantic guilty looking rabbit by the nape of his neck back to his cage.
Then time was rested and got up and started its endless walk once more. Seconds turned back into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, and hours into days, and days into months, and months finally into years. This same small insignificant little man will confess that these unaccounted for minutes in the quantum of a calm breathing eternity are minutes that he has stolen and he will always have as his own.
Have a great week!
FeO2
http://rustyscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
This trip started out with a necessity which was that he had to go and pick up Thomas and Maddy from their friends house where they spent the night. Rusty left the house crossing the property climbing the steps to the guest house (which is en route off the property) to see the shiny eyed stare of Mr. Buns. This was an event as Tammy and Rusty had found that he was missing that same morning. The two mounted a search that turned out to be futile having learned that Mr. Bun's will show himself when he feels his hiatus is over. How can Mr. Buns be blamed? He is a Firestone after all. Rusty decided that he could not criticize his own.
After depositing Mr. Buns in his cage Rusty continued out the far gate through the bamboo garden off the property, following the water canal up to the swinging bridge to cross the river that was swollen by the previous nights rain. The evenings and rain which was part of the now seasonal summer rains had turned the trails into veins of overgrown green tentacles of life that reach out to you as you walk underneath the swaying eucalyptus trees. The time was cool as the clouds fought to keep out the sun but the sun was bound to win as it pushed rays in through unattended patches.
Upon my arrival at my friend’s house I was offered the gift of a celery stick and salad dressing to dip it in which I happily accepted.
Rusty told the children that today was a pedestrian day. Although not to happy they led the way back home. As they weaved through the country back on the same trail of which the little man had come they passed estate villas of the cities rich, the rich fields of flowers of the countries impoverished. They crossed the occasional river rock paved lane which transported the wealthy up and down from their weekend country homes to the city as well as some public transportation for those who were not so wealthy.
The little man to his amazement heard a sound break the silence of the wind and the trees. It was the sound of a lone voice accompanied by a charango (the Andean equivalent of a mandolin). He waited to see who it was. The little man, Rusty, soon was rewarded the sight of a crazy cross-eyed hippy walking down the lane singing and playing an Andean folk song and the top of his weed scorched lungs. Rusty had to admit he did sound pretty good but still had to control his mirth as it was too neighborly of a day to cause conflict. So the trio continued on their trek onward with the occasional complaint of Maddy who could not understand why were not taking some kind of vehicular transportation.
Later while Rusty sat on his hand made wood lawn chair resting from his hike staring at an eye-popping , hundred mile, clear view across the valley he saw Maddy come running up with Mr. Buns in her arms (the rabbit almost her size) saying "I solved the mystery of Mr. Buns escape!" In her hand was a piece of tile which she stated had fallen from the top of the adobe wall that surrounds the property. "This brick fell on Mr. Bun’s cage knocking it open and letting him out!" she smiled proudly. The little man said “Good job Sweety!". She beamed “Now I am putting him back into his house." She then carried the seeming gigantic guilty looking rabbit by the nape of his neck back to his cage.
Then time was rested and got up and started its endless walk once more. Seconds turned back into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, and hours into days, and days into months, and months finally into years. This same small insignificant little man will confess that these unaccounted for minutes in the quantum of a calm breathing eternity are minutes that he has stolen and he will always have as his own.
Have a great week!
FeO2
http://rustyscaptainsblog.blogspot.com/
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