Frog! On Windshield! EEK!

What do you do when you’re driving down the highway and a little frog lands on your windshield?

I don’t know. But it happened last week to me when driving home, after dark. All of a sudden there it was.

Was driving home after Christmas shopping (yes, I Christmas shop in August…sales you know.) on a county road when, WHAP, there he (or she) was. It was spread-eagled on my windshield, right in my line of sight. “EEK!” is what I think I said. I may have even asked it a question. “What are you doing!?!” It didn’t answer of course.

What to do? I decided to slow down and look for a stopping place, which are few and far between on county roads. And besides that, the frog was definitely limiting my ability to see a stopping place. The frog didn’t move. It just lay there sort of, little front and back legs stretched straight out, plastered tightly against the glass. And I was only going what Grandson calls my Grandma Speed. That means about 45 miles per hour.

But the slowing seem to encourage little frog to try an escape maneuver. So before I could stop, it flipped itself off my side, and was gone.

I was astonished. Where did it come from? Did it fall out of a tree? Surely little frogs can’t jump that high. I worried about the little frog. Did it escape unscathed? I don’t know how it could have, but I hoped so. I had never had a frog catch a ride on my windshield before. I soon found out I was not the only one who gave a frog a free ride lately.

A coworker related he had the same sort of event just recently. Good grief. What’s going on? Has our Oklahoma summer become so wet that even frogs are trying to jump out of the pond? Co-worker said he saved his frog.

I Googled ‘Frogs on windshields.’ Found one man who was driving down an interstate when a frog landed on his windshield. And he filmed the entire episode. (Don’t ya just love smart phones.) After much cussing, meaning this poor guy didn’t know what to do about a frog on his windshield either, he slowed down, found an exit and pulled off the interstate. He also was greatly concerned over his frog’s welfare.

“Don’t move dude!” man said over, and over, and over.

“We’re slowing down!”

“It’s lips are moving!” (His frog tried to talk.)

 

(Frog climbs into center of windshield.)

“Don’t move dude!”

“GET OVER!”

(Obviously this guy wants to save his frog.)

(Amazing. As vehicle slowed, frog sort of came to its senses and cleaned off its face and both front feet. Maybe it knew it was on camera.)

“We’re slowing down,” man told frog. (Frog didn’t answer him this time.)

(Then frog sort of curled up at bottom of windshield. Man cusses some more.)

“Don’t move!”

(And then his frog was gone.)

“Oh no! It’s dead!”

Well, I thought. Maybe not. Maybe all our frogs survived the ride. And why were we so concerned over the frogs’ welfare anyway? I thought maybe it’s because frogs help us out controlling bugs that bite us, like mosquitoes. Or maybe they are just so ugly they are cute. Or maybe it’s because they are tiny defenseless little critters.

Even if all the above is true, I still believe frogs should learn to stay off our windshields! I don’t have insurance for frog-induced wrecks. Try to explain that to your insurance agent.

The Hummingbird Riot

I caused a riot last weekend.

There seems to be a shortage of that powdered hummingbird nectar that used to be available everywhere. Not this year. Every local store I checked was out of that hummingbird food.

Retailers please note:  The hummingbirds haven’t flown south yet! And I’ve got a yard full of hungry hummers!

The hummingbirds really showed up in my backyard this summer. I’ve tried for years to attract them, not very successfully. This year they’ve showed up in droves. I suspect the few who spent summers with me in the past have returned with their teenage children. Or perhaps they’ve been attracted by the banquet provided. Determined to get those birds to my backyard, I hung out seven (Yes, 7!) hummingbird feeders. Hang the feeders and they will come. 

Yes they did. Bunches of them.

Then the hummingbird nectar disappeared from store shelves. Help!

“Make your own,” Darling Daughter suggested. She does. “Boil the sugar and water for 15 minutes, cool it down, and you’re good to go.”

I responded, “Its 100 degrees outside. I’m not boiling anything! I won’t even turn on the stove.”

So the nectar level in my feeders dropped, and dropped, and dropped. Ever been confronted by an angry, hungry hummingbird? It’s downright scary. One little female filed her complaint with me directly one morning. She flew right in front of my face, hovered there, stared me in the eye, and said, “Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!” That half-ounce bird scared me so bad I ducked and ran.

I ran to every store I knew had the nectar in the past. None there. I drove to Arkansas. I was desperate. Finally found some, but nearly had to fight my way out of the store, while protecting my two packages of hummingbird nectar from other desperate hummingbird lovers. I had grabbed the last two packages of nectar the store had, and was going through the checkout line when the shopper behind me demanded, “Where did you get that!?!”

“In gardening,” I offered.

Shopper complained, “I can’t find any nectar anywhere!”

I grabbed my bag of hummingbird nectar and fled. I feared a nectar riot may erupt if I lingered too long.

Back in the backyard, I cleaned out the feeders and filled them up. That’s when the real riot began.

In case you haven’t noticed, hummingbirds don’t like one another, and are very territorial. That’s really why I have seven feeders, so they can share. It didn’t work. They still fight like, well, like siblings. Those half-ounce feisty little birds fight and feud like family. They attack each other like little miniature World War II fighter planes, darting and dodging all over the place in a dog fight, or maybe we should call it a bird-dog fight.

And they don’t care if you are standing there watching them either. They’ll zoom around you just like, well, like angry hummingbirds. I have visions of tiny hummingbirds flying straight into me and going bird-bill deep, making me look like a hummingbird pin cushion. Of course they are such good flyers that will never happen.

I’ve tried getting photos of these aerial bird fights, but the birds are so fast, even my good camera can’t stop the action. Still, their antics keep me entertained for hours. No sooner did one bird stop in mid-flight to get a sip from a feeder, than it was immediately dived bombed by another.

And the whole time they continue to tell each other what they think. “CHEEP! CHEEP! CHEEP! CHEEP!” I fear that if we could translate hummingbird speech, those cheeps could probably not be published due to being X rated for language.

And the irony was, that after all my fussing and worry, my search for the nectar, and determination to make sure my hummingbirds got to eat, not one of ever got a good meal due to the riot.

But this morning, I noticed the feeders were empty again, so the riot may be over. Or not. I’ll be filling those feeders on Saturday morning, and will be wearing a helmet and flak jacket. Don’t want to be unprotected in the middle of a hummingbird riot.

School Kids Report on First Day

School started this week. I lament, to some degree, that I have no children to send off to school any more. They are all grown now. Oh darn, even the grandkids are grown. There is a passel of great-grandkids, all too young for school yet.

Once upon a time, which doesn’t seem that long ago, August was a busy month. There were school clothes to buy, and sew. School supplies to round up. And kids who had to be retrained to go to bed early so they could get up the next day in time to catch the school bus. But once my kids grew up, those chores ceased. Still, in the years after, August always caused a certain uneasiness. There was something I was supposed to be doing, but I couldn’t remember what. I finally figured out that I was missing the get-ready-for-school chores. Soon those chores will fall to my grandchildren. And yet, I sort of miss them. Kind of.

I’m sure my great-grandkids will have tales to tell when they start school. I love their honesty. So I went looking for things told by kids about their first days of a new school year. Their tales are re-told below. Enjoy.

*A new first-grade student came home and told his mother, “I’m going to wait until I’m in the 12^th grade before I go back. Then I’ll only have one year left!”

*Another first-grade student reported, “Mom, I learned that the teacher is in charge, and I don’t think that’s fair. I think the kids should be in charge.”

*A little boy was asked if he was looking forward to going back to school. He replied, “Yes! I got all kinds of new ways to make my teacher mad.”

*A new kindergarten student asked, “Will my teacher put me in time-out for picking my nose?”

*A kindergarten student told her grandma she was scared, and she was crying. When asked why she said she had been told about homework. “I don’t know how to do homework!!" she said.

*Another indignant new kindergarten student demanded of his parents, “Why did you sign me up for school?” 

*A first-grade student fell asleep in the car on the way home of school. When asked by mom why, she replied, “First grade is really hard.”

*A Head Start student reported on his first day of school. When asked what he’d done he replied, “We ate 3 times, we played 3 times, and went to sleep. I like school!”

*A kindergarten student was asked if he had gotten in trouble on his first day. He replied, “Not really. I did get caught talking when I wasn't supposed to, but I didn't get in trouble for it.”

The boy was asked what he had learned for the next time.

He replied, “Not get caught!”

*At the end of the first day, a fifth-grade student told his mom, “I don’t need to go back. I know enough.”

*A first-grade teacher told a mom her son needed to learn to follow directions. When confronted, the little first-grader responded, “Momma. I don’t know who Reck Shuns is! I CAN’T FOLLOW HIM!”

But my favorite of all is also the most simple, and most heart wrenching.

*A little girl, on her way to her first kindergarten class, asked, “Mommy, can you go with me?”

And the answer, to all my kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, is, “I’ll go with you anywhere.”

Thank You to Those Who Toil and Broil in Southern Summers

Assistant Fire Chief Steve Padgett of Sallisaw was tooling around Sallisaw this week, above, in the Sallisaw Fire Department’s 1950 fire truck. Fire Chief Anthony Armstrong said they call it the “Parade Truck.” He said the Sallisaw High School football team wanted their photo taken with the truck. I take that to mean the football boys hope to put out the fires of their rival teams this year. Go Black Diamonds!

That’s pretty cool. And cool is the object here. Cool is apparently something we are going to have to wait to experience, maybe in September or October. UGH! Yes, this is my annual Summer Heat Rant. I can’t take the heat. I want cool. But this week, with temperatures forecast to be at 100 degrees or higher, cool is something we may only find in a well-air-conditioned work place or home.

Heat knocks me off my feet, literally. I figured this out as a young woman who was living in San Angelo, Texas, with hubby who had been sent there by the U.S. Air Force. This little Indiana farm girl was not prepared for a Texas summer. Truthfully, when I walked outside in Texas in the summer, I fainted. It was downright embarrassing. Open door. Walk outside. Hit the ground. And that’s when I began to hate southern summers. Give me spring! Give me fall! I’ll even take a southern winter, with ice, over a cold northern snow-smacked winter. But save me from a southern summer.

And one day this week I wondered how other southerners survived heat, especially those who protect and serve us. That is our firefighters and police who must toil and broil in our southern heat. Firefighters go out to save our lives and homes from fires, and are required to dress for protection. They gotta wear all that gear – helmets, and boots, and gloves, and heavy coats. Then, they have to run and lug around heavy water hoses and ladders. How do they do that, and not faint!?! Our police officers are in the same protective-clothing boat. They gotta wear those bullet-proof vests, fancy police officer clothing, and a tool belt from which hangs a full set of crime-fighting armament. Ever looked closely at a police officer’s equipment belt? Good grief. Cops haul around everything from hand cuffs to hand guns. My grandma didn’t have that much stuff in her kitchen gadget drawer.

I asked Fire Chief Armstrong, “How do you do that?” He laughed at me. That’s normal.

“Well, you just get used to it,” he said. “You practice.”

Well, I practiced walking out the door into a Texas summer, and it didn’t help me a bit. Just this week one of Sallisaw’s fireman suffered a bit of heat exhaustion at a small house fire. Chief Armstrong assures us our fireman recovered quickly and is going to be fine.

So for him and all our firemen and police officers, let’s give them a round of applause and a pat on the back in this August heat. They deserve thank yous year round, but to do what they do in a southern summer heat wave is, to me at least, way above and beyond the call of duty.

Thank you guys and gals. You are amazing.

Back to that Texas summer, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force. So, after spending a horribly hot summer in Texas, the U.S Air Force sent Airman Hubby and me to the most logical place they could think of. Yep, we spent the next winter, and the next three years, in Alaska. And I must report that an Alaskan summer, all 30 days of it, is fantastic.

Unintentional Trick Riding Is No Fun

The Sallisaw Lions Club Rodeo features two trick riders this year. That’s great. Can’t wait to see them. When I was a kid, trick riding was always a featured event at rodeos. Then it sort of disappeared. I’m glad it’s back. Trick riding is spectacular.

In my youth, I did a bit of trick riding, but it was unintentional. It was the intention of my horse, a little cow pony mom had bought me for my birthday. She bought the little mare when she visited a cattle ranch and saw five kids crawling all over her. Little did she know. That cow pony, whom I named Cricket, appeared gentle, but had a mind of her own, big time.

Her favorite trick riding event was getting rid of me, the rider. My little bay Cricket could easily have been one of the first foundation Quarter Horses. She could stop and turn on a dime, a favorite Quarter Horse description. Unfortunately, when she did that, she often left me hanging in air. I didn’t hang for long. I hit the ground pretty quick.

Cricket hated pigs. I think most horses do. Unfortunately, our farm was next door to a pig farm. Farmer let his big old mama sows out in a big pasture. And we shared a fence. On hot days, those pigs liked laying along our shared fence line, hiding in the shade. But, when Cricket and I sometimes rode by they would jump to their feet squealing like, well, like pigs.

That unnerved Cricket immensely. She would promptly do her spin and run move, and I’d be hanging in air again. That happened so many times, I lost count. Consequently, I hate pigs too.

My little bay mare was smart, perhaps smarter than me. And she figured out how to dislodge me any time she wanted to. My own trick riding experiences included over-the-head somersaults. I perfected that move because I thought my cow pony should expand her skills by being a jumper. She disagreed. No matter what tiny little jump I set up for her to sail over, my cow pony would pull her incredible sliding stop maneuver. I unfortunately would continue on and clear the jump all by myself while spinning in midair. As I recall, the last time this event occurred I actually landed on my feet and did not let go of the reins. Cricket was disappointed in her failed attempt to escape.

My most spectacular trick was a death clutch on Cricket’s side after she pulled one of her own tricks on me, and took me under a limb. That was her favorite get-rid-of-rider-maneuver. I didn’t come all the way off, I was just hanging on Cricket’s left side, with my arms wrapped around her neck and my right leg up over her top side.

Cricket took exception to that style of riding, and took off at a run. So there I am, bouncing up and down sideways with every stride, and a death grip on my horse. The strange thing was, I considered my situation even as I hung there. ‘Well,’ I remember thinking. ‘I tried to pull myself up, but that didn’t work. Cricket is headed home at a dead run. Can I hang on here for that long? Probably not. What are my alternatives? I’m gonna’ have to let go, right? Yep. Just gonna’ have to let go.’

No kidding. That all passed through my mind as I hung there. So, I let go. Luckily I bounced and was unhurt. And I had learned my lesson. Never let go of those reins. So I climbed back up on a reluctant Cricket and rode home. Don’t believe I ever told mom about that exploit though.

I never yearned to be a trick rider. From my few experiences, it seems really hard, especially the ground part. I will leave that up to those spectacular riders who enjoy it and do it with expertise. So head on out to the Lions Club rodeo, and watch these amazing trick riders do what the rest of us cannot, or at least survived what trick riding our horses thought we should do.

Hot Dogs Come with Friends in High Places

I am a hot dog lover. Don’t know why, but I love a good hot dog. And this week, when it came to hot dogs, it was good to have friends in high places, kinda.

Maybe it was something developed in childhood, cause I can remember frying up hot dogs as a kid and literally pigging out.

Pigging out may be the correct word here. Long time ago in a town far, far away – Cincinnati, Ohio – I had a cousin who worked in a packing plant. Cincinnati is a blue-collar, meat-packing, beer-drinking town. Cousin once told my mother that if she knew what was in a hot dog she would NEVER eat another one.

Wrong. I don’t care what’s in that hot dog. I will eat it anyway I can get it. And I have. I like ‘em fried. I really like ‘em burned to black over an open camp fire or on the grill. I’ll even take ‘em boiled if I have to. I’ll eat ‘em cut up and heated up with pork and beans ala character Sheldon Cooper on “The Big Bang Theory.” I think one time I even ate some cold. All rules are to be broken, and I will not eat them nuked, that means heated up in a microwave so much they actually explode. Yuck.

And I can eat a lot of them. Over this year’s Fourth of July holiday I ate a whole pack of hot dogs. Well, not in one sitting. It took a couple days. But I ate ‘em all, all by myself.

So when Sonic Drive-In’s $1 Hot Dog Day arrives, you can imagine how happy I am. I can hardly wait. I almost went there for hot dogs for breakfast, but decided I wanted to savor my hot dogs for lunch.

But best bud Delanna N., of the KXMX advertising team, had an errand to run before lunch and asked me to go with her. “Sure,” I agreed, “as long as we go to Sonic afterward for hot dogs.” That was good for her and off we went at 11 a.m. Oops. Errand took until noon, and, it turns out, I’m not the only one who likes Sonic hot dogs. The Sonic Drive-In, at noon on Hot Dog Day, was full to capacity and then some.

Poor Delanna drove me round and round our Sallisaw Sonic. There were NO parking places to be had. And we weren’t the only ones. Delanna led a parade of hot dog lovers around Sonic. But if we were on the west side of the drive-in loop, then somebody on the east side would leave, hot dogs in hand I’m sure, and someone else would get the slot. If we were on the east side, then someone would leave on the west side, and someone else would get that slot.

I was beside myself. “It’s like we’re playing hot dog musical chairs, or parking spots! I should have been here at 11:30. I gotta’ have a hot dog!” I was putting all the blame on poor Delanna for delaying my hot dog feed. Sorry Delanna! Delanna drove around Sonic for more than 20 minutes trying to find just one parking spot where she could get me my hot dogs. It wasn’t to be.

“This isn’t working,” I finally told her. “Let’s go.” I nearly sobbed.

Delanna offered, “We can go to (another fast food place that shall remain nameless).”

“No,” I countered. “I’ll come back for my hot dogs.” And I did, at five minutes after 1 p.m. Too bad. No parking places. The drive-in remained packed to the gills with hot dog lovers just like me. But I wasn’t going to quit. I drove round, and round, and round.

Then my cell phone rang. I had to answer. It was a friend in a high place. And this friend shall also remain nameless. “You trying to get a hot dog?” I was asked.

“YES!” I babbled. Friend said, “I’m on the west side and getting ready to leave. I’ll stay here until you get behind me.”

Three hot dogs later, I was happy in hot dog heaven. And I am so grateful, I’m going to have to send friend a gift. Wonder if friend would like some hot dogs? I’ll be more than happy to supply the gift, after I have a bite or two of course.

Can’t Wait to Get Into Space and the Final Frontier

Really good news this week. The new Star Wars movie is nearly with us, and the new Star trek movie is in production. Yay. Yes. I’m a fan of both. Long time. 

Like from the beginning. . .1966 for Star Trek and 1977 for Star Wars.

Just this week I found out the new Star Wars movie “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” will be out on Dec. 18. “Star Trek Beyond” has begun production and is scheduled to be in theaters on July 8, 2016. I can hardly wait.

I confess. I’m a Trekkie. Way back when, I and my science-fiction-loving hubby would put the kids to bed early so we could devote the rest of the evening to Capt. James T. Kirk and the Enterprise. (As a Trekkie, I know what the T. stands for but I’m not telling!)

Through the years I watched every re-run of those old Star Trek television shows, even though I’ve seen them 10 or more times, and I have been to every movie. Was also a fan of those Star Trek spinoffs on TV, especially “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.”

But nothing over the years could compare to the original Star Trek and our Capt. Kirk.

That is until 2009’s “Star Trek.” Whoa. What’s this I wondered? I’m not a movie goer, and I don’t hang out on the internet looking up actors or movies. So I was happy to know a new “Star Trek” was with us, although I didn’t hold out much hope that I would be star struck.

I was wrong. Actor Chris Pine as the young James T. (I’m not telling!) Kirk is fabulous. And hey, Mr. Pine isn’t bad to look at either. Don’t be surprised. Even great-grandmas get to enjoy the scenery. Zachary Quinto completes the duo as the young Mr. Spock. Wow. It could barely be any better. I was shocked.

Then along came “Star Trek Into Darkness” and it did get better. Another one of my new favorite male actors, Benedict Cumberbatch, portrayed the infamous Khan. (You gotta be a Trekkie to know about Khan.) It got better in “Into Darkness.” In fact, when I just can’t take any more TV, I watch “Star Trek Into Darkness” again, and again, and again. Obviously, I love action-adventure movies. And this movie has the best heroes and best bad guys ever!

(One little side note:  PBS has announced that the increasingly popular Mr. Cumberbatch is coming back as my most recent favorite TV hero, “Sherlock.” Yay! That’s where I first found him, and PBS has the best TV on TV.)

And that’s why I can hardly wait till next summer, when, on a hot summer day, I hope to run into a cold movie theater and take a thrilling vacation on the Starship Enterprise. I may try to get there sooner. Just this week it was announced there is a Star Trek contest. The winner gets to visit the Star Trek set (oh my), meet the actors (excuse me while I faint if Chris Pine comes anywhere near me), and gets a walk-on part in the new Star Trek movie (well, I might make a good grandma alien.)

So I will now pin on my Starfleet communicator badge (I actually have two) and practice the Vulcan salute, and in the meantime, I hope you all “Live long and prosper,” just like Star Trek.