Cherry Tree and The Communion

When George Washington was about 6 years old he chopped down his father's favorite cherry tree. When confronted by his father George admitted to the act. George's father was so upset that he knocked out George's teeth and had the local dentist make wooden teeth out of the dead cherry tree for George.

What's the moral of the story? Not sure.

I took communion when I was six. I was with older friends. They were regular church goers. It was my first time. I knew that I wasn't supposed to go with them when they joined the communion line, but I was curious. The priest was curious too, but he gave me the wafer when I told him that I had taken communion before.

My parents confronted me the next day outside our trailer. They wanted to know if I had taken communion. I said no but then started crying. My parents told me that a girl from the neighborhood had told them what had happened. That girl was a snitch. A snitch who I had given a mud pack facial to (via a long wind-up pitch) earlier that morning. Once I knew that my parents knew about the communion I was forced to admit the truth. They asked me if I had lied to the priest and I replied that yes I had. My parents told me that I shouldn't lie to people. They offered to go to church with me if I was interested in religion. I wasn't interested in religion and neither were they, so everyone expressed quiet relief when I said that I wouldn't be attending services again.

What's the moral of the story? Don't throw mud at someone who knows where you live.

Kitty Litter and the Baloney Kid

I'm usually unhappy when someone with an open bag of kitty litter sits down next to me on the subway, but today was different. It wasn't that I was attracted to the woman who was carrying the bag. Open kitty litter bags, SUVs, and recent charges of human rights abuse are relationship non-starters. Was it that her kitty litter smelled sweet? No, the bag smelled like kitty litter. I was not unhappy with my new seatmate because her kitty litter bag was covering up the smell of baloney on my hands. I had lunched on baloney sandwiches a few hours before and the smell of baloney still lingered on my hands.

I'm a relapsed baloney luncher. I stopped eating baloney a few decades ago but now am back on the baloney bandwagon. I don't remember being aware of baloney's after effects in my youth. Maybe as an adult I'm more aware of how I smell (other examples of me acting like an adult: sometimes takes out garbage after making a big dinner, cleans toilet every week- whether it needs or not, holds on to socks that need darning, no longer looks at religious people as if they were possessed). Or maybe it's because my sense of smell has become more acute now that I have diminished hearing due to ipod overuse.

Bird on Third

The baseball diamond was being resurfaced, so the varsity baseball team held practice on the freshly mowed football field. Its uneven terrain and the day's baseball colored sky made the sport even more difficult for the talent challenged team.

After talking to his first basemen, the head coach looked towards third base to discover that his favorite player was pretending to be a nested bird who had just laid an egg. The player had encircled himself in lawn clippings and was sitting atop third base. Coach put his hands on his hips and dropped his head. I'm not sure if he smiled. Maybe he smiled after he told me, his bird on third, to start running.

I didn't complain about the extra running. Sometimes silliness has a cost. This time it cost my teammates, too. We were to run to one of the goalposts and then back to home plate. The first person to make it to home plate would not have to do push ups. Coach yelled go. I started into a strategic pre-lead trot, enabling my competitors to gain a lead and a false sense of victory. The goal is to stage a dramatic comeback and take the lead right before the finish line. There are critics of this strategy. For example, coach thought I should start running faster, so he re-barked his orders.