Never gobble at a turkey!

I went on a little road trip with one of my older sisters when I was a teenager. I don't remember exactly what the trip was about. I think it was Christmas and my sister didn't want to travel alone. What I do remember is we stopped at a little house in the middle of nowhere. Next to the middle of nowhere sat a turkey farm.

Turkey farms tend to loose turkeys sometime so it is normal to see one wandering around anytime you happen to be close to a turkey farm. My sister and I were walking out to the car when I spotted one.

Needless to say I was excited to see the turkey. I'd never seen a turkey up close before...at least not without involving mashed potatoes and gravy. Forget about stuffing.

No, I don't eat stuffing. I have enough issues with wet bread. Must be some childhood trauma. The bread puffing as it absorbs water like a sponge, except it isn't a sponge and doesn't hold its shape, squishing to paste when you touch it.

Why would you put that in your mouth? What is wrong with you people? Eeeeeeeeww!! Let's not even get into the depths of wrongitude once you decide to stick this crime against nature into the innards of a massive bird. Just not right.

Anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah. Turkey up close. I got excited. You know, when it tickles deep down in your stomach and then ripples out in waves. I jumped up and down and waved at the turkey and then I started to gobble.

Something you should know about me is I make animal noises. Not the usual "a cow says moo, a dog says woof" noises. I confuse dogs when I bark. I have made a goat's tail wag with my goat impression. I have scared the snot out of many a person with my velociraptor (you have to see it to truly understand). When I gobbled, it was pretty close to a real turkey.

The face I make in order to do the gobble justice is a little embarrassing, but it is the only way to make the sound right.

Problem is I don't really speak turkey. So I tried very hard to be happy and nice and say something along the lines of this:



Now, I don't know if I got the words wrong or if, since it was Christmas, the turkey was extra sensitive, but the stupid bird reacted as though I had said something more along the lines of this:

The turkey had been casually strolling along the side of the road, but as soon as I started gobbling it turned to look at me and a transformation took place. The cute little turkey I had initially seen...



Turned into a monstrous turkey demon. It stood up tall and I swear it was almost as tall as I was. My gobbling ceased abruptly as the nightmare stomped its way toward us, gobbling like no turkey has ever gobbled before. The sound still haunts me.

My sister started yelling, "What did you do?! Get in the car! Go! Oh crap! Get in the car!"

It was like something from a horror movie. The handle slippery and sticking in the cold air, my hand shaking. Time slowed down and you could hear the gobble deepen and stretch out like when lovers run towards each other in movies, except this was no romantic comedy. Death spoke to us in that gobble.

Finally I pried the door open and we both got in, but the beast kept coming. My sister got the car running and we sped away, kicking up snow and leaving the red eyes of the grim reaper behind. I still gobble and I still gobble at turkeys, but only if they are more than 30 yards away.

The joy that is bum warmers

My blog has lost its way. I'm terribly sorry about that. I created it in an attempt to include everyone in on my way of seeing the world. Little random moments of intrigue in the sounds that the mustard bottle makes. The way light glints off the oil slick pooling under my garbage can. The hum of a real copper penny when you flip it in the air. I have been sidetracked by my incessant complaints about work. That's not what this blog is about. It is about me dang it, not my job. It is supposed to be funny and inspirational...mostly funny. It also needs more pictures.

One of my favorite blogs uses pictures from paint and I got to thinking, "Hey. I don't have any of that fancy computer software. I used paint to make my business logo which ain't half bad. I should try my hand at that."

I don't expect my blog to be nearly as popular, amazing, or beartastic as hers, but I want it to be a little goofier. It's time to take myself and my job a little less seriously. It's time to talk about bum warmers.

There are many inventions I care deeply about. Toilet paper is one. The alternatives were not pretty.

Insulation is another great invention. I love being warm. I do not like the cold. I am thankful that there are things that keep the cold out. Nasty, icky, worthless cold. That is why I live in St George. We rarely see the Devil's Dandruff (snow) here and I like it that way.

But, whoever invented the car seat bum warmer is my hero. My bum warmers heat up faster than my regular heater which likes to blow frosty air at me for several minutes before coming close to warm. My seat starts radiating heat within a minute or two, like someone just swung the summer sun around to my backside, beach air rolling across my seat, the ocean waves crashing in the background. I love my bum warmers. They make me warm and happy. They are like little hugs from my car.

My dog likes to ride in the car. He is also somewhat obsessed with me and wants to be on my lap the whole time. I don't allow him to, so he hovers right next to my lap. This happens to be right on the bum warmer buttons. Not a big deal in Fall, Winter, or even Spring, but in the middle of Summer it becomes a nightmare. St George turns into an fiery oven full of hair dryers during the summer. It gets hot, very hot. My dog sets off the bum warmer without me noticing and ten minutes later I realize something is wrong. By then, it is too late. The hugs are replaced with mauling fire lemurs of death.

I am on fire, melting with the onslaught of flame. My body tries desperately to stop the heat. Let's look at the physical reaction:

Sweat breaks out and begins to pour down my back in growing rivers and streams in a fruitless attempt to put out the flames that have erupted below.

Why is this fruitless? Because, despite the feeling of heat, there is no actual flame.

So the sweat converges and collects until you have a nice amount of warm water pooling where warm water should not pool unless you are here:

So, even the best inventions have their flaws. With such a wonderful thing as bum warmers we must all be responsible and remain vigilant against their misuse. There are few things worse than bum sweat.

I hope you like where my blog is headed. Sorry for the bum cracks, but I'm a thirteen year old inside and can't help it. Thanks for reading. Love you all.



Raptor Bark LLC Refinishing, Art, and Design

My new business is getting more official. My sister and brother in law are going to work on creating two websites for me, one for the biz and one for me as an author. I don't have much money to spend on websites right now, so this is how I paid them.

My sister had this old, beat up dresser thing, stained and cracked white paint slathered on all sides. I spent several days getting the seven layers of paint off. White, yellow, pink, blue, white, blue, and a dark stain. Sad thing was, the first layer of paint was to cover up a water stain that would have been an easy repair. I'm also pretty sure the last two layers of paint were lead based. They didn't react right to the stripping agent. I may die now. A little scraping and sanding later and this is what the dresser looked like.

Some glue, wood filler, stain and polyurethane later and the final product is done. I think it is worth a little website or two, but I am biased like that. Let me know what you think.

Oh, this is my logo for the biz, by the way. Raptor Bark is so going to be awesome. Thanks for reading and supporting my crazy idea to make money without enervating (look it up) my soul.