Easter Sunday

On my way to Adam’s house, I stopped at the lumber yard in Maynard. Mike, who wears shorts year round and treats new customers like a border guard watching for terrorists, runs the place. As I paid for my studs, I noticed his security camera set-up. Bright, color photos of the snow in his lumber yard, blue tarps covering piles of wood, and me in my recently bought $1.99 red and black K-Mart flannel shirt flashed on four monitors.

“Is there anything you can’t see?” I asked.

“Nothing, and I can back up, play back and burn it all to a CD.”

“You catch people at night? Surely, your daytime customers aren’t stealing from you.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes I think it’s forgetfulness. I watched Fred Meyers load oak, then plywood and trim stock, but when he came in for the tally, he didn’t mention the oak. I said, ‘Fred, how about the oak?’ and he said, ‘What oak?’ These cameras cost me forty thousand and they switch to infrared when the sun goes down.

“But no thieves yet?”

“The best one so far is Harold’s dog. I caught him peeing in the back room by the door. I said, ‘Harold, why’d your dog pee on my floor?’ He said, ‘My dog is house broken, he’d never ever pee on your floor.’ I said he did. He said he didn’t, and then he called his wife Mildred. ‘Mike says Fritz peed on his floor.’ I could hear ‘em talking. ‘If Fritz is peeing on floors he’ll pee in the Barton’s house when we go there on vacation.’ Mildred says, “Fritz is house broken. He’d never ever do that. So Harold turns to me and says, ‘Millie says it wasn’t Fritz.’

I said forty thousand bucks says it was. I run the tape back and there’s his black dog out back. First he sniffs the caulk, then he sniffs the gate latches and then he sniffs the floor right before he squats downs and lets go. Harold calls Mille back to tell her what he just watched. Millie says, “Some other dog must have marked the floor first.”

On my way to Adam’s house, I stopped at the lumber yard in Maynard. Mike, who wears shorts year round and treats new customers like a border guard watching for terrorists, runs the place. As I paid for my studs, I noticed his security camera set-up. Bright, color photos of the snow in his lumber yard, blue tarps covering piles of wood, and me in my recently bought $1.99 red and black K-Mart flannel shirt flashed on four monitors.

“Is there anything you can’t see?” I asked.

“Nothing, and I can back up, play back and burn it all to a CD.”

“You catch people at night? Surely, your daytime customers aren’t stealing from you.”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes I think it’s forgetfulness. I watched Fred Meyers load oak, then plywood and trim stock, but when he came in for the tally, he didn’t mention the oak. I said, ‘Fred, how about the oak?’ and he said, ‘What oak?’ These cameras cost me forty thousand and they switch to infrared when the sun goes down.

“But no thieves yet?”

“The best one so far is Harold’s dog. I caught him peeing in the back room by the door. I said, ‘Harold, why’d your dog pee on my floor?’ He said, ‘My dog is house broken, he’d never ever pee on your floor.’ I said he did. He said he didn’t, and then he called his wife Mildred. ‘Mike says Fritz peed on his floor.’ I could hear ‘em talking. ‘If Fritz is peeing on floors he’ll pee in the Barton’s house when we go there on vacation.’ Mildred says, “Fritz is house broken. He’d never ever do that. So Harold turns to me and says, ‘Millie says it wasn’t Fritz.’

I said forty thousand bucks says it was. I run the tape back and there’s his black dog out back. First he sniffs the caulk, then he sniffs the gate latches and then he sniffs the floor right before he squats downs and lets go. Harold calls Mille back to tell her what he just watched. Millie says, “Some other dog must have marked the floor first.”

Goose and friend.

I’m not saying I’d rather live there, but here’s another midwest story.

If you walk the aisles of our Home Depot you can watch sales people scatter as if you’re the first local case of Avian Flu. In Evansville, in those identical looking aisles, you get real tired of saying, “No, I don’t need any help.”

On my last visit, with my cart half-filled with plumbing supplies, and now abandoned in a long-forgotten aisle, a sprightly guy in orange walked up to me and said, “Is there anything I can do for you?” I paused, thought to myself should I really ask this, and then I said, “Yes, I lost my shopping cart. Can you find it for me?”

“I think so, let’s go look at the end of aisle two.”

Here’s the difference. Jeff logs on and sends me a dozen photos of their recent trip: sunsets, mountains, brick buildings, train stations and family members. Karen logs on and sends me what she’s titled as “Five Great Photos,” and they are all of her son who lives in Spain.

Reminds me some of Diane and most mother’s I know. I can take a photo worthy of the greatest portrait photographer of all time (Of course I can’t, but follow my point here) , and if you can’t see both ears – as in a full smiley face – it’s not going in the family album.

Here’s the difference. Jeff logs on and sends me a dozen photos of their recent trip: sunsets, mountains, brick buildings, train stations and family members. Karen logs on and sends me what she’s titled as “Five Great Photos,” and they are all of her son who lives in Spain.

Reminds me some of Diane and most mother’s I know. I can take a photo worthy of the greatest portrait photographer of all time (Of course I can’t, but follow my point here) , and if you can’t see both ears – as in a full smiley face – it’s not going in the family album.

I might have a theme here. First BirdBrain’s house and now Adam and Tricia’s. The moral might be, don’t hire me to do work, or if you see me with my black backpack, lock your door.

Adam wondered why there are no photos of the part of his house I’m most familiar with – the inside of their refrigerator.

This photo goes with the pig picture – I’m hoping there will be more of Jeffro and Karen’s trip to Spain to see their first born.