Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
So we've established that I was 12, in Ireland, on a dairy farm operated by my uncle who drove a tractor pulling a trailer with milk that was destined to go into cartons with pictures of missing kids on them.
Anyway, so this was a rural area of Ireland, and my uncle did not own the car. Just the tractor.
But, you say, what would your uncle do on the invariable occasions involving tractor maintenance? Like, if it had to go into the tractor shop to have the tires rotated, nav system upgrade, etc.
Well, for those such occasions my uncle was prepared.
He had a donkey. It looked a little like this donkey, but not as furry.
The donkey's name was Nellie.
I don't think she was named after this Nellie:
Or this Nelly:
Or this Nell:
It's possible she was named after a deceased aunt who was named Nell. Or, I could be completely confused as I think at one point, the uncle had three cows named Nora, Dora and Aunt Nell.
I don't think there were actually aunts named Nora or Dora, but I'm quite certain there was an Aunt Nell who I met when I was 5 and went to Ireland for the first time. She was a tiny little shriveled ancient little hobbit of a woman.
In my memory, she looked kind of like this:
The one on the right, but she didn't have that big of a smile.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
I don't think there were actually aunts named Nora or Dora, but I'm quite certain there was an Aunt Nell who I met when I was 5 and went to Ireland for the first time. She was a tiny little shriveled ancient little hobbit of a woman.
In my memory, she looked kind of like this:
The one on the right, but she didn't have that big of a smile.
I just want to know when Aunt Mena enters the story?!
I don't think there were actually aunts named Nora or Dora, but I'm quite certain there was an Aunt Nell who I met when I was 5 and went to Ireland for the first time. She was a tiny little shriveled ancient little hobbit of a woman.
In my memory, she looked kind of like this:
The one on the right, but she didn't have that big of a smile.
I just want to know when Aunt Mena enters the story?!
Okay, so we're on the Irish farm, with the Irish dairy farmer, with the Irish donkey.
We have clearly established, thus far, that there are 0 (zero) mentions of clowns, buses, or peyote thus far in this story. Which I must re-emphasize, is nonfiction.
Let's say, for the heck of it, that the uncle's name was Uncle Paddy. Which, I confess, was not his name. Although, interestingly enough, I had two uncles named Paddy, both on my mother's side.
For the purposes of this story, we will call him Uncle Paddy. I don't want any awkward confrontations with any of my 43 first cousins who might be PJ fans who could occasionally read the boards and could stumble across this. Which seems unlikely for a couple of reasons: 1. None of them strike me as having that degree of musical taste (at least on that side of the family) and b) I'm pretty sure most of them don't know the real story about the donkey while also III: many probably didn't know that there was a donkey on the farm to begin with.
Anyway, so I was 12 this particular summer, and experiencing all the awkwardness that your typical 12-year-old girl could expect when one was among the tallest and skinniest kids in the class. Plus, it was the 1970s and you know what the fashions were like then. (If you don't, then Google "The Brady Bunch" and you'll know what I'm talking about.)
Just to set the scene, this was my typical outfit that summer:
Denim overalls.
Converse All Stars / Chuck Taylors. We bought them at the Converse factory outfit in Malden, or maybe Medford, one of those M towns north of Boston. Not Melrose, though. I don't recall Chuck Taylors coming in as many colors as they have now, and I never would have worn pink at any rate.
I feel obliged to point out that I wore a t-shirt under my denim overalls, unlike the people is this photo:
My parents would not have allowed me to go about dressed like that.
You know, I've never really liked the song "Come On Eileen," which for some reason that eludes me is popular at weddings in this area, even if nobody in the bridal party is named "Eileen."
Personally, I've never really cared for that name since I had an elementary school principal named Sister Eileen and she was somewhat mean. She called my mother down to the school because my parents were late with my tuition check ($90 per year, payable in three installments of $30 each). Turns out I had put the checks in my desk, and never turned them in. Sister Eileen chastised me in front of my mother, who later confessed she felt really bad for me but couldn't speak up to a nun. Although, many, many years later, my mother said, "She was an old biddy." And then crossed herself. (She didn't really cross herself, I added that for effect. She definitely did say "she was an old biddy," though.)
This is Sister Eileen:
She's actually not the same Sister Eileen who was the principal at my elementary school, but she looks a little bit like her with the glasses and stiff hair.
Interestingly, when I Googled "Sisters of St. Joseph" and "Eileen," I got the above pic, and also saw the following pic:
i love how unlost goes off into tangents with great detail and then forgets to finish the story ...so what about the tractor?
afroannnie, did you ever get unlost to tell you the donkey story? I believe you were very very good at Alpine (besides running off with the zingers and coming back to the car empty handed) You are owed a donkey story...
unlost?!?!?! unlost! UNLOST DOGS YOU COME HERE THIS INSTANT! ***stomps foot***
The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.
as you can see, i'm very confused as to what is happening here
best i can gather, unlost went to Ireland as a child and was driven around the emerald isle by poncier the demented clown bus driver..scared of poncier, she exited the bus and flagged down the nearest pink donkey and rode it to salvation
am i close? :think:
I never knew this about you .
Next time we meet you have to let me in on the stories
BTW.................. Have a Merry Christmas
So, What you Giving ?........ (Thanks Speedy, Alesek, & Arq+friends)
What You Giving
I suggest you step out on your Porch.
Run away my son. See it all. Oh, See the World!
i love how unlost goes off into tangents with great detail and then forgets to finish the story ...so what about the tractor?
afroannnie, did you ever get unlost to tell you the donkey story? I believe you were very very good at Alpine (besides running off with the zingers and coming back to the car empty handed) You are owed a donkey story...
unlost?!?!?! unlost! UNLOST DOGS YOU COME HERE THIS INSTANT! ***stomps foot***
No..never got the story...and yes I was very good that weekend. Somehow I got stuck with the snack bag..and i had to share the zingers with the nice security guard ladies...but i let you try my tastykakes on the ride home:D
So anyway..yeah where the hell is my donkey story?? Unlost? Unlost? Where are you?
I just tried to Google search for images of horses in my little town, but I couldn't find any.
However, when I entered the name and state, what I got on the first page of images was this:
I didn't get that, but I did get this on the first page:
So not sure if the Arms is actually serving Horse Pot Pie as the Thursday special, but my photo certainly says a lot about another thread floating around the AET somewhere.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.
I hope so...a nun was part of her 'goodie box'....to REMIND HER! :x
The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.
I hope so...a nun was part of her 'goodie box'....to REMIND HER! :x
no donkey or peyote?
well...the donkey dispensed cigarettes out of his "business end"
I assume I could have rolled her a few peyote cigarettes...Mr Unlost might not like that... :?
The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.
Comments
Storytelling takes time, boys.
The creative process and all that.
Where was I?
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
So we've established that I was 12, in Ireland, on a dairy farm operated by my uncle who drove a tractor pulling a trailer with milk that was destined to go into cartons with pictures of missing kids on them.
Anyway, so this was a rural area of Ireland, and my uncle did not own the car. Just the tractor.
But, you say, what would your uncle do on the invariable occasions involving tractor maintenance? Like, if it had to go into the tractor shop to have the tires rotated, nav system upgrade, etc.
Well, for those such occasions my uncle was prepared.
He had a donkey. It looked a little like this donkey, but not as furry.
The donkey's name was Nellie.
I don't think she was named after this Nellie:
Or this Nelly:
Or this Nell:
It's possible she was named after a deceased aunt who was named Nell. Or, I could be completely confused as I think at one point, the uncle had three cows named Nora, Dora and Aunt Nell.
I don't think there were actually aunts named Nora or Dora, but I'm quite certain there was an Aunt Nell who I met when I was 5 and went to Ireland for the first time. She was a tiny little shriveled ancient little hobbit of a woman.
In my memory, she looked kind of like this:
The one on the right, but she didn't have that big of a smile.
if i only worked for pendant publishing...
p.s. listening to army reserve right now. what an underrated PJ tune
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
Fargo 2003
Winnipeg 2005
Winnipeg 2011
St. Paul 2014
I just want to know when Aunt Mena enters the story?!
Patience, my dear girl, patience.
We have clearly established, thus far, that there are 0 (zero) mentions of clowns, buses, or peyote thus far in this story. Which I must re-emphasize, is nonfiction.
Let's say, for the heck of it, that the uncle's name was Uncle Paddy. Which, I confess, was not his name. Although, interestingly enough, I had two uncles named Paddy, both on my mother's side.
For the purposes of this story, we will call him Uncle Paddy. I don't want any awkward confrontations with any of my 43 first cousins who might be PJ fans who could occasionally read the boards and could stumble across this. Which seems unlikely for a couple of reasons: 1. None of them strike me as having that degree of musical taste (at least on that side of the family) and b) I'm pretty sure most of them don't know the real story about the donkey while also III: many probably didn't know that there was a donkey on the farm to begin with.
Anyway, so I was 12 this particular summer, and experiencing all the awkwardness that your typical 12-year-old girl could expect when one was among the tallest and skinniest kids in the class. Plus, it was the 1970s and you know what the fashions were like then. (If you don't, then Google "The Brady Bunch" and you'll know what I'm talking about.)
Just to set the scene, this was my typical outfit that summer:
Denim overalls.
Converse All Stars / Chuck Taylors. We bought them at the Converse factory outfit in Malden, or maybe Medford, one of those M towns north of Boston. Not Melrose, though. I don't recall Chuck Taylors coming in as many colors as they have now, and I never would have worn pink at any rate.
I feel obliged to point out that I wore a t-shirt under my denim overalls, unlike the people is this photo:
My parents would not have allowed me to go about dressed like that.
You know, I've never really liked the song "Come On Eileen," which for some reason that eludes me is popular at weddings in this area, even if nobody in the bridal party is named "Eileen."
Personally, I've never really cared for that name since I had an elementary school principal named Sister Eileen and she was somewhat mean. She called my mother down to the school because my parents were late with my tuition check ($90 per year, payable in three installments of $30 each). Turns out I had put the checks in my desk, and never turned them in. Sister Eileen chastised me in front of my mother, who later confessed she felt really bad for me but couldn't speak up to a nun. Although, many, many years later, my mother said, "She was an old biddy." And then crossed herself. (She didn't really cross herself, I added that for effect. She definitely did say "she was an old biddy," though.)
This is Sister Eileen:
She's actually not the same Sister Eileen who was the principal at my elementary school, but she looks a little bit like her with the glasses and stiff hair.
Interestingly, when I Googled "Sisters of St. Joseph" and "Eileen," I got the above pic, and also saw the following pic:
She scares me.
afroannnie, did you ever get unlost to tell you the donkey story? I believe you were very very good at Alpine (besides running off with the zingers and coming back to the car empty handed) You are owed a donkey story...
unlost?!?!?! unlost! UNLOST DOGS YOU COME HERE THIS INSTANT! ***stomps foot***
- Christopher McCandless
Next time we meet you have to let me in on the stories
BTW.................. Have a Merry Christmas
What You Giving
I suggest you step out on your Porch.
Run away my son. See it all. Oh, See the World!
What You Giving
I suggest you step out on your Porch.
Run away my son. See it all. Oh, See the World!
No..never got the story...and yes I was very good that weekend. Somehow I got stuck with the snack bag..and i had to share the zingers with the nice security guard ladies...but i let you try my tastykakes on the ride home:D
So anyway..yeah where the hell is my donkey story?? Unlost? Unlost? Where are you?
Lest you all worry that I was forlorn about being snackless, I can tell you that RKCNDY and I later distributed Ho Hos far and near.
And the next day, ryeZUpSF and I absconded wtih the beer. And there was a lot of beer.
But back to the story. Where were we?
On the farm, in Ireland, at my uncle's farm where he had a donkey.
We've established that at the time, I was a tall, skinny kid wearing overalls and Chuck Taylors. I was also completely mesmerized by horses.
My little seaside town bordering Boston had no horses at all. This was a source of deep and unrelenting pain to me.
However, when I entered the name and state, what I got on the first page of images was this:
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
Start reading, my dear!
So not sure if the Arms is actually serving Horse Pot Pie as the Thursday special, but my photo certainly says a lot about another thread floating around the AET somewhere.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
but she said if I was good all weekend at alpine, she would tell me the story... :(
I thought it was "A-DEN?"
then unlost can say "there is no more AN-DEN!"
- Christopher McCandless
do you think she'll ever finish the story?
I hope so...a nun was part of her 'goodie box'....to REMIND HER! :x
- Christopher McCandless
no donkey or peyote?
well...the donkey dispensed cigarettes out of his "business end"
I assume I could have rolled her a few peyote cigarettes...Mr Unlost might not like that... :?
- Christopher McCandless