A momentary lapse of reason
|By LYNDA JENSEN|
My husband got a wild hair up his vent last week and did one of the most unusual things that I've ever seen (especially for him, since he is Mr. Careful).
He ran off and purchased two dirt bikes, an adult model, and a smaller one for our kids.
Supposedly, I will be riding this thing, or following it around with a first aid kit. I'm filing this under the "22 gauge shotgun" category (reminiscent of the shotgun he bought me that I never used).
He told me, in all seriousness, that I could ride it to work. It actually seemed like a good idea for a little while, until I told Denise Rosenau.
Denise looked at me with this serious look, and said something like "Hmmm. That would be interesting." She asked me to tell her in advance when I would be riding it. Scene: picture her hiding in a large bush with a camera . . .
I am certain that people in Howard Lake need more joy in their lives, and here I am to supply it for free. I'll just climb on my dirt bike and honk my horn, waving through town. Then I'll accidentally drive into a snow bank or adjacent duck pond.
On that note, I've almost gotten smacked twice in my car along Highway 12 last week.
One was (almost) my fault, when I scooted across the road quick in front of city hall, and (almost) in the path of this lady going westbound on Highway 12.
To her credit, she didn't honk her horn or do something dirty, like so many of those obnoxious commuters might do. Commuters are usually so intent on arrival and departure times, they don't care who they run over in the process.
She just looked at me with round eyes, as I streaked by.
The second time was in a parking lot at Dassel next to the highway, when an older gentlemen nearly backed into me. He was so close, I almost kissed his bumper.
Luckily, I found the horn and tooted it twice. No problem.
Of course, I was driving my husband's Jeep. I already wrecked that baby, because I took an ice scraper out and scratched the heck out of the back window (it has a soft top and it was frosty that morning).
My husband calls me "Scratch Jensen" now. He quoted the damage at $1,500. Rats. It'll take years to pay that darn thing off. Ha ha!
Germs are simply everywhere
Just when I forgot everything I ever learned in health, more than two decades ago, my daughter is here to remind me what I forgot, or didn't want to know.
My daughter is 10, and could teach you a thing or two about germs.
I finally got over the "eyeball" thing, when she gave me a detailed analysis of my retinas, now here she is again to tell me all I ever wanted to know about germs.
We have very little illness at our house. In fact, it's an incredible annoyance when one of us becomes sick because we're so used to being well.
She is sure that her little brother carries most of the germs in the household (which is probably true). After all, I'm the one who coined the phrase "I wonder where those dirty hands have been" referring to Bryce's piggy little paddies).
On a side note, I sent Bryce to wash his hands for several months before I discovered that he wasn't using soap.
She is convinced that germs are a good reason not to load the dish washer (and other chores).
I finally got frustrated and told her on no uncertain terms that she will pick up whatever her dirty, grubby little brother might have anyway, since we live in such close proximity.
The last conversation we had about it ended with her sneezing right into the taco I was making for myself! Yuck!
She said "Aha! You're going to get my germs ANYWAY!"
Howard Lake-Waverly Herald & Winsted-Lester Prairie