- Joined
- May 9, 2002
- Messages
- 12,258
Well with an exciting title like that, you would think that this would be a tale of tiger fighting, or dispatching half a dozen armed thugs in a Dundeeian "now that's a knofe" fashion.
Sadly (and luckily) no. My Tirtha bowie saved the day for a very absent-minded dad on a blustery day. So be prepared, there is some Khuk (well HI Bowie) content...but mostly it's a story about how I had a frustrating morning due to my own accord.
I'm a hands-on dad. My mornings consist of getting up around 5:30 to get the coffee going, prep my wife some breakfast, and get my daughter up and fed. My wife takes awhile to get ready, so the least I can do is get her a good hot breakfast to start the day and prepare the baby for daycare.
However, this time of year is a bear for me. I'm in the swimming pool business, and it's insanely busy at this time. Where in months past I could have been very come what may with my mornings and just got to work when I got to work (Hey, there are some perks to being the boss), from April through July that is just not an option. In other words, I have to rush in the mornings after I get my wife fed, my daughter fed, and grab a quick shower.
Yesterday morning, Evey was being a bit fussy. She's teething and she would prefer to take a nap at 7am (right when I'm trying to get out the door). So after a struggle to get her into her clothes and a struggle to get her into her coat, I finally have her ready. I pick her up, grab my phone, grab a soft drink for later, and toss the dog a couple treats as is our contractual agreement for allowing the baby to live IN the house. I'm heading out the door, brrrr man it's blustery for April. No time to grab my jacket. I have Evey in hand, time to get her in the truck. I'll be fine. Slam the door behind me and head for the truck.
I get to the truck door...no keys. I check my belt twice where I keep them hanging. What did I do with them? <<terrible lightbulb>> I wore my jacket yesterday and put them in the pocket. "$%&#$!!!" It's 44 degrees outside, windchill near 40. Baby in a light fleece jacket. I'm armored in nothing more than a light button up over shirt and a straw cowboy hat. My wife by this time has been gone for 20 minutes and is in a meeting. My sweet retired neighbors next door are out of town. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid :grumpy:
My daughter is happy as a clam. She's finding the excitement VERY entertaining. Quickly, I check all the windows to the house. Locked...damn my diligence to home security. I walk around to the back yard. Of course the back door is locked. My dog peers out at me sadly. He gives me a look, "Dude, I would totally help out...but I gots no thumbs".
Panic nearly sets in. If it were just me, it would be no big deal, but I have my 9 month old daughter (still just smiling and waving at the birds perched on the fence) in this weather. I try calling my mom...no answer. Why does she even HAVE a cell phone if she's not going to carry the dang thing!
Slowly a nagging detail of salvation creeps in. My sliding glass window in the back of my truck cab is broken and no longer locks shut! If I can slide it open, maybe I can fit into the truck and get to my garage door opener! I set my daughter down on the front stoop so I can see her. I give her my overshirt to keep her warm and my hat to play with (better to chew on my hat than eat a bug). I climb on top of my bedcover and try to slide the window...stuck.
*#$&%#$!!" Wait! I can pry it. Breakage be damned, my little girl is not sitting out here in the cold any longer than possible. I draw my trusty oft carried Tirtha from the should holster in which it rides. I can wiggle the blade just enough to get the window to move. It's only stuck with road grime. A twist of the grip and a whispered prayer and the window slides open!
...but I can't fit..at all. Not only will my shoulders NOT go through the opening, but the car seat perched right under it would prevent me from getting very far. The door lock or the garage door opener! If I could just reach them! Sadly, my ridiculously long monkey arms are not getting even close to what I need. It's an extended cab truck, after all.
I lean out and check on my daughter. she's giggling and wiping her runny nose all over my shirt...well at least she's happy. It dons on me that there is a broom around back. If I can get it, I might be able to use the handle to press a button inside the truck. I pick up my little snot-monster and carry her with me to the back yard. I find a wooden handled push broom propped up against the house. Thank God for my wife NOT listening to me to put things up after she gets done using them. I grab the broom and rush back around to the front of the house. I set Evey down after reconciling with fact that my work shirt is going to spend the rest of the morning as her Kleenex. Oh well. I have another in the house.
I hop back on truck bed and slide the handle through the opening. I don't have a clear shot at the door locks, but I can certainly see the door opener clipped to my visor. I inch forward. thunk, thunk,...thunk. The handle with the broom head isn't long enough! It's missing its mark by 3". The broom head won't fit through the opening any better than my shoulders.
I curse and breathe out. The head is permanently attached to the shaft. It doesn't screw off. There was no choice. The broom must be sacrificed to the god of garage doors. Without the head, the combination of my arm and the shaft, I might be able to reach the button.
I climb down (again). I draw my mighty blade once again, and THWACK!...<clatter clatter> the broom was no more. For an instant, I began to flush with embarrassment. What would the neighbors think about all of this. Then I grew steadfast. To hell with the neighbors. If they were watching and not coming out to help, then they deserve to know that the crazy guy down the street packs a 17" knife on his chest daily I sheath my knife and defiantly gaze around the neighborhood. That's right, I solved an problem with a big ol' knife...twice.
I peek over again, Evey has found her feet and is slapping them together like a little seal. She beams back at me with her mama's eyes and flashes me a toothless smile. She's fine.
OK, I climb up again. One more chance. I carefully position my broom stick and take on a stance that could only resemble a Neolithic caveman attacking a monstrous 4x4 woolly mammoth. I slide my arm through. I can reach the opener. <<poke>> <poke>...nothing is happening! The garage door opener has always been a bit tricky. It starts to slide down the visor. If it falls off, I'm hosed.
<<Kerrrr chunk chunk chunk>> The garage door begins to open! Success!
I snatch Evey up, greet my bewildered dog, run inside to get my jacket (with my keys) and change Evey's clothes. The whole ordeal took no more than 10 minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime. However, I can say that without my Tirtha bowie, it would have taken much, much longer.
Word to the wise...don't leave home without a trusty piece of Nepali steel. You never know when you might need it
Sadly (and luckily) no. My Tirtha bowie saved the day for a very absent-minded dad on a blustery day. So be prepared, there is some Khuk (well HI Bowie) content...but mostly it's a story about how I had a frustrating morning due to my own accord.
I'm a hands-on dad. My mornings consist of getting up around 5:30 to get the coffee going, prep my wife some breakfast, and get my daughter up and fed. My wife takes awhile to get ready, so the least I can do is get her a good hot breakfast to start the day and prepare the baby for daycare.
However, this time of year is a bear for me. I'm in the swimming pool business, and it's insanely busy at this time. Where in months past I could have been very come what may with my mornings and just got to work when I got to work (Hey, there are some perks to being the boss), from April through July that is just not an option. In other words, I have to rush in the mornings after I get my wife fed, my daughter fed, and grab a quick shower.
Yesterday morning, Evey was being a bit fussy. She's teething and she would prefer to take a nap at 7am (right when I'm trying to get out the door). So after a struggle to get her into her clothes and a struggle to get her into her coat, I finally have her ready. I pick her up, grab my phone, grab a soft drink for later, and toss the dog a couple treats as is our contractual agreement for allowing the baby to live IN the house. I'm heading out the door, brrrr man it's blustery for April. No time to grab my jacket. I have Evey in hand, time to get her in the truck. I'll be fine. Slam the door behind me and head for the truck.
I get to the truck door...no keys. I check my belt twice where I keep them hanging. What did I do with them? <<terrible lightbulb>> I wore my jacket yesterday and put them in the pocket. "$%&#$!!!" It's 44 degrees outside, windchill near 40. Baby in a light fleece jacket. I'm armored in nothing more than a light button up over shirt and a straw cowboy hat. My wife by this time has been gone for 20 minutes and is in a meeting. My sweet retired neighbors next door are out of town. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid :grumpy:
My daughter is happy as a clam. She's finding the excitement VERY entertaining. Quickly, I check all the windows to the house. Locked...damn my diligence to home security. I walk around to the back yard. Of course the back door is locked. My dog peers out at me sadly. He gives me a look, "Dude, I would totally help out...but I gots no thumbs".
Panic nearly sets in. If it were just me, it would be no big deal, but I have my 9 month old daughter (still just smiling and waving at the birds perched on the fence) in this weather. I try calling my mom...no answer. Why does she even HAVE a cell phone if she's not going to carry the dang thing!
Slowly a nagging detail of salvation creeps in. My sliding glass window in the back of my truck cab is broken and no longer locks shut! If I can slide it open, maybe I can fit into the truck and get to my garage door opener! I set my daughter down on the front stoop so I can see her. I give her my overshirt to keep her warm and my hat to play with (better to chew on my hat than eat a bug). I climb on top of my bedcover and try to slide the window...stuck.
*#$&%#$!!" Wait! I can pry it. Breakage be damned, my little girl is not sitting out here in the cold any longer than possible. I draw my trusty oft carried Tirtha from the should holster in which it rides. I can wiggle the blade just enough to get the window to move. It's only stuck with road grime. A twist of the grip and a whispered prayer and the window slides open!
...but I can't fit..at all. Not only will my shoulders NOT go through the opening, but the car seat perched right under it would prevent me from getting very far. The door lock or the garage door opener! If I could just reach them! Sadly, my ridiculously long monkey arms are not getting even close to what I need. It's an extended cab truck, after all.
I lean out and check on my daughter. she's giggling and wiping her runny nose all over my shirt...well at least she's happy. It dons on me that there is a broom around back. If I can get it, I might be able to use the handle to press a button inside the truck. I pick up my little snot-monster and carry her with me to the back yard. I find a wooden handled push broom propped up against the house. Thank God for my wife NOT listening to me to put things up after she gets done using them. I grab the broom and rush back around to the front of the house. I set Evey down after reconciling with fact that my work shirt is going to spend the rest of the morning as her Kleenex. Oh well. I have another in the house.
I hop back on truck bed and slide the handle through the opening. I don't have a clear shot at the door locks, but I can certainly see the door opener clipped to my visor. I inch forward. thunk, thunk,...thunk. The handle with the broom head isn't long enough! It's missing its mark by 3". The broom head won't fit through the opening any better than my shoulders.
I curse and breathe out. The head is permanently attached to the shaft. It doesn't screw off. There was no choice. The broom must be sacrificed to the god of garage doors. Without the head, the combination of my arm and the shaft, I might be able to reach the button.
I climb down (again). I draw my mighty blade once again, and THWACK!...<clatter clatter> the broom was no more. For an instant, I began to flush with embarrassment. What would the neighbors think about all of this. Then I grew steadfast. To hell with the neighbors. If they were watching and not coming out to help, then they deserve to know that the crazy guy down the street packs a 17" knife on his chest daily I sheath my knife and defiantly gaze around the neighborhood. That's right, I solved an problem with a big ol' knife...twice.
I peek over again, Evey has found her feet and is slapping them together like a little seal. She beams back at me with her mama's eyes and flashes me a toothless smile. She's fine.
OK, I climb up again. One more chance. I carefully position my broom stick and take on a stance that could only resemble a Neolithic caveman attacking a monstrous 4x4 woolly mammoth. I slide my arm through. I can reach the opener. <<poke>> <poke>...nothing is happening! The garage door opener has always been a bit tricky. It starts to slide down the visor. If it falls off, I'm hosed.
<<Kerrrr chunk chunk chunk>> The garage door begins to open! Success!
I snatch Evey up, greet my bewildered dog, run inside to get my jacket (with my keys) and change Evey's clothes. The whole ordeal took no more than 10 minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime. However, I can say that without my Tirtha bowie, it would have taken much, much longer.
Word to the wise...don't leave home without a trusty piece of Nepali steel. You never know when you might need it