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Thursday, January 17, 2008

you guys . . . I hit another deer

Well, to be fair, the deer hit me. Supporting evidence: the mirror that was knocked off the side of the Subaru in the tussle. I was doing, I am not lying to you, 20 mph because you know why, and the deer fully RAN INTO THE SIDE OF MY CAR. Good news is there are no dents, and the mirror just needs to be reattached. I can't see any carcass lying next to the road, so I think she probably got up and ran away. It reminds me of our late, great neighbor T.D. Hunsaker. He was over talking to John a couple of years ago, and related this story:

You commute to Salt Lake every day, huh? I drove to Hill (Air Force Base) every day for years, never had a wreck. One day somebody else drove? We hit a horse! Came through the windshield, cut my face all up, blood everywhere . . . friggin' thing got up and ran away!

He was an awesome guy. We miss him. He called Superman "you bald-headed thing."

Recently, John was in a conversation in which someone attempted to validate--and differentiate--the pageant with which she is involved by describing it as a "scholarship pageant." John had said he wasn't really a pageant kind of guy, and she said, "Oh, but [this pageant] is a scholarship pageant. These girls are just trying to get money to go to school. Their evening gowns are very modest, and their swimsuits are very modest." Wait, what? Don't most beauty pageants call themselves scholarship pageants? Also, good luck recouping your investment--even if you win. And I've never really gotten the cognitive leap from "you are the prettiest girl in this group of girls" to "here's some money to go to school." Couldn't we just as well say, "Dog, your teeth are sharp. Here's a pamphlet that says fur-bearing animals are permitted to shed in the summer." For reals. It's okay to reward people for being pretty and/or talented (usually just pretty anymore)--hey, pretty people are nice to look at. So are flowers. Just call it what it is.

In other news, I am going to murder my kitchen floor.

This part smells like a moldy plastic mouse foot.

It looks small, but it's like trying to wash cement off a sidewalk.

I cannot foresee a time in which I will not be scraping up tarpaper. The stuff I'm working on now is on a floor that was not only unfinished, but unsanded. Like, rough-cut boards with tarpaper glued to them. I'm pretty sure that the words I've been muttering under my breath are expletives in some undiscovered language.

5 comments:

Bamamoma said...

Hey, I know all about Kamikaze deer. One hit me in Sardine one morning when I was heading to the airport to visit Phil in 'bama. Mine was serious about suicide though ... no lame cry for help like your deer apparently was up to. This one left half her fur and some of her blood and guts all over the driver-side door. Phil always laughed when I told people about the deer who hit me instead of me hitting a deer, but that is what happened!

Bamamoma said...

I just read my response to Phil and he reminded me that when she hit she lost control of her bowels and so that matter was all over my car too. "Don't forget the poop" says Phil.

Claire said...

Layne, you are a killer. Your floor is looking better. I hope you will get it done soon along with your new bathroom

Jill Bearden said...

What in the world Layne!? Is it "bring a carcuss to work day" at the Huff home!? I guess you will always have a good story to share at parties. I like your kitchen floor alot. (minus the tar like substance that I'm glad I don't have to scrape off) Good luck with that!

Emily said...

Wow Layne, good work on your floor. You are one patient woman. It's going to look so good. Also, I like your blog background.