Losers Weepers...

When I was in kindergarten (Highland Park Elementary), Mrs. James was my teacher. It's funny, I can't remember any of my teacher's names all through school (including most of college), but I remember my kindergarten teacher. I only remember getting in trouble once that year, and Mrs. James had to smack my hand with a ruler. Can't remember what I did...

Anyway, at one point during the year, there was something school-related that my Mom had to pay for, and she gave me the money to do it. I had never even held a $20 bill before, much less been trusted with taking one to school. It was like a little paper treasure, and I had to keep it safe until the time came to turn it in. My parents were counting on me...

Needless to say, I lost it. When the time came to cough up the dough, it was nowhere to be found. I was terrified. I had been entrusted with something so big, and had failed. Not only that, but I knew my parents were going to be upset. We didn't have much, and losing $20 was a big deal. I just knew that severe consequences were in my future. I dreaded having to tell my Mom that I had lost the money, but I did. She was upset, but not angry. I still felt terrible...I'm pretty sure tears were involved.

Some time later, could have been a week or even several months, I found the money. I had a seldom-used blue plastic pencil pouch that had a few crayons and pencils in it. I think it had a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. On the outside was a smaller little pouch you were supposed to put change in. It had a little button to keep it closed. I hardly used this pouch, and I NEVER used the change holder, so imagine my surprise when I opened it and found that neatly-folded $20 bill! I guess I put it there for safe keeping, then promptly forgot about it.

I showed it to my Mom, and she was of course relieved. I guess I felt justified that I had finally found the money, but I certainly set a precedent for later in life...I still put things away for "safe keeping" and promptly forget where they are.

Such is life, I guess.

New: Tastier Beef!

Yesterday, I got a frozen "Healthy Choice" meal out of the freezer, and noticed the blurb on the front. "New: Tastier Beef!".

Right. So, if this is real beef (I have my doubts), what exactly are they doing to it to make it even more tastier?

Don't answer that.

Snapshot

Here's me as a young'un...the car behind me is my Dad's '57 Chevy race car. I spent most of the week crawling around in grease and oil at the garage, then the weekends at the racetrack. Where do you think I got my love of old cars?

Reportedly, the first big phrase I ever said was "automatic transmission".

What's in a name...

Why "Sarcastic Picnic"?

When I was registering the site with Blogger, every name I entered was already in use. I guess I'm not as unique and original as I thought. After countless tries at witty titles were frustrated, I finally just went to the Merriam Webster website and watched their little "Real Time Word" display until I saw two consecutive words that I could turn into a title for this blog. "Sarcastic" and "Picnic" was the first combination I saw.

You see, magic CAN happen with randomness...

Fishing...

My family moved to a different part of town when I was almost ten. The new place was on a quiet street, just two blocks from a little lake, with a spillway where the road ran across.

My brother and I thought that would be a great fishing spot, so we trudged down there with our little rods and reels and spent many afternoons during the summer trying for a bite. Worms, bread, lures, we tried it all. Nothing worked. I don't think we ever even got a nibble, but we tried.

After a while, we decided that our problem must be that we didn't have a boat. There obviously wasn't any fish near the shore, so we needed a boat to go where the fish are. Keep in mind I was somewhere between ten and twelve, and didn't even have the normal amount of common sense most kids are endowed with.

We found a four foot by four foot piece of plywood, and some two by fours. I borrowed a hammer and some nails from my Dad (can't remember if he even knew what we were doing), and proceeded to make my version of a boat. I laid the plywood on the ground, and attached the two by fours as "rails" around the sides.

It didn't look like it would hold water, what with the large gaps at the corners and in between the sides and the bottom of the boat, so I did what any logical young boy would do - I covered the bottom with trash bags. I didn't have access to any caulk, so why not? I slit some black lawn garbage bags and cut them to fit the bottom of the boat, with enough overlapping the sides to be safe. The problem was, I didn't have any one piece of black trash bag big enough, so I had to tape a few pieces together. With that clear tape you use to wrap presents with at Christmas. No duct tape here, no sir. Only the best for our little boat.

My brother and I loaded it up onto our wagon (we called it our "boat trailer"), and managed to wrestle it down to the lowest point of the bank we could find. It didn't get halfway into the water before we knew that the jig was indeed up. We looked at each other with that "I'm not getting into THAT thing" expression, and hauled it back to the house to be dismantled and used in our tree house (another marvel of modern engineering I'll get to later).

Maybe next time.

A Repository of Memories...

..a place to record those things which I am prone to forget.

A conversation I had with my friend Spencer a few weeks ago made me realize that I have forgotten so much of my past, so here is where I'll try and keep those things alive.