Kakahead

Please do not interest yourself with any Happy Friday monkey business on this blog thing this week. That is because I am again on vacation, and you are not. Unless you are, in which case we can all vacation in different places together. In fact, I will be so grateful that I will gladly let you pay for gas and I’ll reciprocate by allowing you to pay for our food and lodging as well.

Is that a deal or what??

So off we go to Winedance. Well that’s what Grandma Loftus used to call it. It’s actually Rhinelander, Wisconsin; home of the hodag. Do NOT be caught alone in the woods with a hodag! OH GOD OH GOD! Go ahead, Google “hodag;” I double-D dare ya.

Not only are we gonna visit family but we will be staying in the very resort where, 38 years ago this day, my lovely girlfriend and I became official sweeties. Long story there… anyway after a year of that fun we got hitched and now we even like each other!! Anyway, it’s late outside and I must post this and run away sleeping. Long drive tomorrow.

Peace, Love, and Cheese Curds;

Kenny Kakahead

Corporate greed.  That’s what my friends and I have been talking about at work lately.  Recent events at work have slammed home the awful truth that the people who call the shots in corporations like ours live in a different universe.  They really don’t care much about the average family person who is trying to make a living.  They may say they do, but they really don’t.  Otherwise, jobs in this country would not be moved to other countries.  Sure, if we kept the jobs here it would “cost more to do business,” which mostly seems to mean that the big shots wouldn’t get their millions.  Well maybe they don’t need millions.  Does anybody really need more than a million dollars??  Not me… so they can just give me a million and I’ll quit complaining about corporate greed.

Or not…

Anyway, since I know people whose jobs are in jeopardy I thought maybe I’d try to be a helpful with this week’s Happy Friday thing.  I have been the victim of corporate downsizing in the past; so I’ve been there and done that.  It wasn’t the end of the world.  Actually it was the beginning of a pretty cool journey.  I explored some alternative career ideas and got to know myself and my family better.  And finally after many moons of being out of work, I got a job.

One thing I’ve learned is:  probably the most important ingredient of a good job hunt is a resume.  Keep it to a single page.  Emphasize your strengths and achievements, and especially focus on the skills you have that an employer needs.  What I ended up doing was keeping a general resume “on file” and modified it to suit the particular job I was targeting.

Another good tool is an introductory cover letter.  For a guide, I dug one of my old ones out of my archives and thought I would share it with you.  You have my permission to steal it and alter it in any way you see fit.  This one may (or may not) be the exact same letter I sent to Ludmilla Sunkenchin, who was HR director of Blammo Manufacturing.  So without any further ado, here it be:

——————————————————

To Whom It May Concern,

This is in response to the advertisement for a Working Type Person. I understand that you were accepting money up front, to get people jobs and stuff like that. I intended to respond sooner, but a small cow has been telling me things and forced me to listen. Please consider this as a letter of application because I need a stinking job.

The jerks I have been working for at XYZ Industries these past 27 days have laid me off ; and I’m sure I don’t need to tell a person like you how that makes me squirm inside.  However, I believe that I the skills I acquired there were probably useless, but that doesn’t really matter now does it??. I’m really good at taking breaks, and I know how to impress the best of them. I figure that if you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull manookey. I worked on various types of equipment during my career at XYZ, but most of it was pretty old and always screwing up, so I don’t really know how to run anything without a large hammer in the immediate vicinity.

I have computer experience… after all, I do own a Sony Playstation.  Them video games have really increased my ability to react quickly under stress. There goes a fly! HA! Got it!!  See what I mean? As for my ability to interact with others, I enjoy meeting new people, especially when they give me money. Those are the nice ones, ya know?

Please let me know the exact date upon which I can expect to apply my skills at your place of employment. I am available for an interview, and would enjoy the opportunity to give you $20 up front and more if I get the job. I will be “checking in” frequently with you to keep tabs on your progress in hiring me.  Get back to me soon, or else you may soon find some “souvenirs” from my kitty’s litter box in your mail slot.

Ha ha, just kidding I think maybe.

Thank You,

ME (you will learn more about me during the hiring process, and especially when I have learned of my start date)

P.S.: I can’t work where women are present, because I usually have pretty offensive gas.  Also, if there are men around, they should stay away from me, because they normally have even worse gas than me.  Other than that, I can do work real good unless I don’t feel like doing what you ask me to do.  In cases like that, just ask me what I feel like doing that day and I’ll probably get right to it.

——————————————————

Well my friends there you have it.  As I said, feel free to use this cover letter in its entirety if you wish.  Or maybe tweak it a little… but I think it stands on its own merit.  If you find it useful, please let me know very soon; as I also have some bridge property for sale at reduced rates for special people like you.

Or perhaps you’d go for some yummy, roly-poly fish heads!!

When writing about something as important as Mother’s Day, the task pretty much mandates a little research.  Alright, maybe it’s not a mandate. But as I sat staring at the title that jumped out of my keyboard and onto the page, I couldn’t help being curious about where all this Mother’s Day stuff originated.  Turns out there have been several holidays over the eons devoted to mothers; dating back perhaps thousands of years.

Here in the US, the holiday as we now know it was created by Anna Jarvis in 1908.  Her efforts resulted in President Woodrow Wilson proclaiming it a national holiday in 1914.  Unfortunately, the occasion quickly became commercially “interesting” to merchandisers; to the chagrin of Ms. Jarvis.  Even she reportedly began to refer to Mother’s Day as a “Hallmark Holiday.”

Even so, God knows there is no more deserving soul to be honored than Mom.  Your Mom, my Mom, Mother Nature, and so on.  In the case of me and my siblings; I’m amazed that our mother made it through the ordeal of raising the four of us without completely going bonkers.   We grew up in the late 50s and through the 60s, where Dad was “king of the castle” and Mom was the keeper of the household.  In other words, Dad earned the money and Mom did the best she could to keep us fed and clothed.   Considering some of the “challenges” my Dad introduced into that equation she did a remarkable job.

Mom was the cook, bottle washer, laundry attendant and mending master.  She knew how to comfort us when we were sad; and she knew how to put us in our place when we acted up.  We were raised on Long Island, New York during a time when “The Honeymooners” was still on TV.  Even if you didn’t live in Brooklyn, people were not afraid to yell to get their point across.  I once had a fond remembrance of when the four of us were driving her nuts; and Mom shouted, “YOUSE GODDAMN KIDS!!”   When I mentioned it to my mother many years later, she quickly replied, “I never said that!!”

Of course not.

Anyway, she raised us the best she knew how.  Did a darn good job of it too.   Although she was not really the touchy-feely type; we knew that she loved us and would do anything in her power to make life better for us.

She must have been heart broken when I ran off with “that girl.”  At the time, that was how Dad referred to my beautiful girlfriend.  Relations with my Dad were usually tense, so leaving home seemed like the natural next step.  I joined the Air Force and was married to my sweetie all in the course of a year after graduation from high school.  It would be many years before I would really understand how difficult it had to be for both of them.   My lovely wife and I raised a daughter and son and we get restless if we don’t see them for a week, much less a year or more.

Mom did the best she knew how.  She was the product of a generation where the woman bowed to the husband, regardless of how deep the BS puddle became.  We didn’t tell each other “I love you.”  There was very little hugging, and if Dad was around, whatever you do, don’t cry “or I’ll give you something to cry about.”   Deep down, however, we knew we were loved, albeit the methods at time seemed a bit harsh.

Just like any new parents, my beautiful wife and I were determined to “do a better job than our parents did.”   The words “I love you” were uttered every day, often multiple times.  We had plenty of hugs to go around, plenty of time spent.  And when I would get up on my high horse, my lovely wife would get a stick and knock me down from there.   Well OK not literally, but you get the idea.  I probably presented the same “challenges” into our new family that my Dad interjected into family life when we were being raised.  One thing for sure, if you are interested in growing up, try having kids!

My Mom and Dad have both been gone for several years.   Dad and I managed to patch things up before he left this life, thank God.  And Mom did her best to cope with losing the love of her life until she finally left also.  Funny how things evolve… as of this writing I can honestly say that I’ve learned to flush the bad memories and cherish the good ones.

So to my Mom, and to my lovely Wife Mom, and now to our daughter who’s also a Mom, and to all the Mothers in the Universe:

THANK YOU.  GOD BLESS YOU.  I LOVE YOU.

So there.

Here’s a cute video I found that pretty much sums up a day in the life of Mom.

If bean plants could talk, they’d ask the onions to leave the premises immediately. This is for real, people!  They’d pinch their noses and shout thusly:  “Hey! You wid da face! You’re pudding a big hurt od by doze! Gid oudda here awreddy! Can’t lib here wid dis stinking.”

The onions cry. After all, they can’t help the fact that they were born with a natural fragrance that bean plants find offensive.  Not to worry, the cabbage family is happy to have onions in the neighborhood. Must like that Italian cooking, maybe?

Forgive me while I indulge in this good stink / bad stink talk. In these parts, It’s time to start the garden up, and I get to thinking out loud about who goes where in the dirt.  Companion planting is a cool thing for us organic-type gardeners, because if plants can be happy together, they are much healthier.  Having healthy plants means more yield and fewer problems with bugs and diseases.

Onions exude chemicals that prevent beans, peas, and other legumes from making nitrogen in the soil with their toes. If you’ve ever yanked a bean plant out of the dirt, you might have noticed the rhizomes (little round bumps) on the roots. Well, the beans do NOT have tumors.  The rhizomes are where the action is:  bean-friendly bacteria live there and make nitrogen for the bean plants and anyone else who happens to be nearby.  That is, unless the onions are in town. Then they just sit there, remaining all tiny and twiddling their toes.

Cabbage and its relatives (broccoli, cauliflower, brussels sprouts, etc.) love those onions, because they help keep the cabbage butterflies away, and also keep the aphid population down. Both of those bugs love their cabbage, but, like beans, most bugs also hate onion breath.

Corn says thank you to the beans and peas for being there and doing the cool nitrogen toe jam thing. The beans and peas give the corn a high five for wind protection and shade. Corn plants also make nice poles for peas and runner beans to hang on to.  Between the corn rows, squash or pumpkins get the shade they like, and they in turn shade the corn’s roots and keep them cool. Everybody happy.

On the other hand, you have marigolds. OK, maybe you don’t. Those can go near anything. All the vegetable clans love marigolds, and they even stimulate growth.  My kinda plants!

Grandmas and Grandpas used to know lots of this stuff, and Native Peoples were very much in tune to companion planting.  Farm and garden chemical companies would love for you to forget all about that stuff though.   Those fancy commercials showing folks winning cool prizes for big veggies do tend to get one’s attention. Unfortunately, chemical companies are conveniently quiet about the nasty stuff  flowing into our lakes and streams when herbicides and pesticides are washed out of our dirt during a good rain.

But fear not, organic produce are finally becoming “more mainstream. ‘People are “discovering” that when the pilgrims found the Indians were growing pumpkins in their corn, it was no accident.

A big reason I like this kind of gardening is that I’m basically a cheapskate. Hey, what’s the sense in buying fertilizer when you can get it for free? All those coffee grounds, veggie peels, and just about any food garbage (except meat) makes great compost, which builds strong plant bodies 127 ways. Sure, you can put down some Green Thumb Remarkable Powder and grow just about anything in sand, but like I said, as soon as it rains, that stuff runs off during a rain, causing big pollution problems.  Compost boosts organic matter in the soil.  When I started my garden here in the ancient year of 1982, my garden plot was basically Michigan beach sand.  Now, after years of tilling many loads of leaves, composted manure, and cover crops into the soil, I have some nice rich sandy loam.  Everybody knows how things grow in black dirt.  And why use herbicides when you can plop down a mess of leaves or hay around the plants to keep the weeds down?

Back to the beans a second (uh-oh, he’s gonna get weird again). I know some people who agree with beans about the onions. Some folks just can’t stand onions or the smell of them. Might say something like, “No kissy face for you until you brush them chompers!”   Onions and beans are great food things. I love them both, and regard them as almost cosmic. Of course, there is a by-product of eating too much of either:  methane. In its natural state, methane is colorless and odorless.  When generated  by human food eating machines,  it is often released with a “PHOOT!!” noise and can have a rather diSTINKtive odor.

HOLY COW!! I JUST HAD A BRAIN-FART!!  We may be able to achieve world peace with this combination!  Get regiments of bean eaters, right?  March them into enemy territory two or three hours after the whole bunch of them cram a few truckloads of bean burritos laced with onions in their faces. No troops in their right mind would try to fight against anyone during such a gas attack.  We’re talking victory with no chemical weapons here!  Peace could be had without firing a shot, except for the occasional audible report from those burrito eaters.  The only hitch would be to strictly enforce an important rule, which would need to be posted with very large placards:

ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING ALLOWED.

So the moral of the story is: if you must plant beans and onions together, plant them in your tummy, not in the dirt.

And please, always remember to visualize whirled peas.

Here I am again crying in my dog food about the driving ninnies. Sure glad the snow is gone! Now we can be treated to much better driving conditions and won’t have to worry about sliding into the ditch as we leave our driveway. No more hitting the windshield with a sledgehammer to remove those pesky chunks of ice. I’ve even had the chance to crank the windows DOWN and the tunes UP. Coolness!

Of course, with every silver cloud comes a grey lining. Warm weather kicks in a well known ailment in some people. Officially, I just named this disease auto-idiotica, and many of you know this age-old affliction as, “hey you with the Cracker Jacks driver’s license!!”

You know what I mean. Stupid flameheaded wombats that believe they’re the only ones on the road. You are in their way, so watch carefully during the warm weather months. These people have dog breath and improper grooming habits, and are EVERYWHERE. Some symptoms are: weaving in and out of traffic, severe tailgate-itis, driving 130 mph over the limit, and passing on the right on a two lane road. At intersections. While honking. Although they are ignorant of the fact, idiot drivers have chicken lips, and are known to cavort with barnyard animals during Mardi Gras.

Used to be a time when moronic motorists were restricted to the male population. Unfortunately, however, women are learning from us dudes, and are beginning to do the “tailgate-till-you-move” dance when you’re going less than 85 mph in the right lane on the expressway. It never matters that you’re already going five over the limit and are sanely going past Grandma and Grampa Sightseer. But as far as numbers, dumdum boy drivers still far outnumber dodo girl drivers.

I’m still truly compressed by the number of mush-minded monkeys that try to pull the trim off my car as they fly past me on the expressway. Hey, the limit in Michigan is already 70. Nobody really needs to go more than 75, ok? It just ain’t safe! Sure, you can go, but try to safely miss that deer or broken car. Problem with me, I guess, is that I’m getting to be an old fart. At least some kids would label me so. But because I’m over 50 I remember the high speed limits from the beforetimes. You know,before the Arab oil embargo (say wha??). A lot of people raced around back then, and ended up being “dead on time.” During the embargo, Tricky Dick (President Nixon for you youngsters) and his friends pushed a nationwide maximum speed limit of 55 mph to save fuel. Silly guy… not only did we save fuel but also lots of lives. But then the oil started flowing again and the speed limits went back up; and the lunatics again raced about on the roads.

Very sad, the road rage that is spreading these days.  Too many people in a terrible hurry.  And of course if you are “in their way” they will show the likes of you.  Especially if you drive a small foreign car like I do:

“Watch this, rice burner person! Watch while I remove a few thousand miles worth of wear by vaporizing the surface of my tires! Watch how well I can ruin my transmission! Ha ha! I shall show the likes of you! I’ll accelerate wildly so I can tailgate the next jerkface who has the nerve to drive courteously!! Then I’ll pass on the right, and also on the left. But just to show you I mean business, I’ll wait for oncoming traffic and barely pull back in on time! Ha ha! I listen to the COOLEST music very loudly and am ruining my hearing with 92 inch woofers! Boy are you stupid!!”

Such intelligent beings are often mystified when they receive a ticket. After all, it was not their fault they were going 84 that day, because that cop is NEVER there! Or… they run the same stop sign all the time, BECAUSE THEY LIVE THERE and there’s NEVER ANY TRAFFIC.

I don’t want the reader to get any funny ideas about the possibility that reckless driving scares me or anything. It PETRIFIES me. Wanna know why? Because I used to be a Mr. Moron Motorist! Been there, done that! Thank God I never hurt anyone. I did, however, manage to rack up many tickets in younger days. Too many. But boy, the insurance company was happy with me!! I wanted to continue driving, and they were only too happy to take lots of my money in exchange for minimal coverage.

Lucky for me, I learned; albeit the hard way. Haven’t had even so much as a parking ticket for over 28 years. This is a good thing. I can breathe much more easily, and so can my wallet. It’s always empty anyway, but at least it’s not red when I put a nice, crisp dollar bill in there.

I keep my eyes peeled for the loonies now, and know pretty much what they’re gonna do when they get near me. I just stay out of their way and let them go by. Safer that way. I paid my dues, and I’m sure they’ll pay theirs in one form or another. These days I’m content with putting my cruise on 65 MPH so I can keep my fuel consumption at a lousy 40 mpg (Ha, ha ha you Hummer peoples, I laugh to you).

Anybody seen the keys to my rice burner?

Well, after all that ranting, I went hunting for a video to post. Found this one on YouTube and found it rather amusing.

We live in a swamp.  Bear Swamp, to be precise.  It’s not called Bear Swamp much these days, but the elders of the community informed us of the name some years back when my beautiful wife and I were attending a Cub Scout dinner.  We got to chatting with some friendly old timers sitting near us, and they asked, “so where ’bouts do you live??”  When we told them, they said, “oh yes, you live in Bear Swamp.”  They know that Bear Creek (pronounced “crick” unless you’re a city dweller) runs through our property, and they also know that we are in a low spot.  And we know very VERY well that if it thaws quickly in the spring, we get water.  We are also very much aware of why many people around here don’t have basements.  And if they do, they definitely have a sump pump, and their house’s foundation sticks up at least three blocks above the ground.

Living in a swamp can have its advantages though, believe it or not.  First and foremost, we will likely never run out of water.  Several times over the years when storms have killed the power, we’d just take the wheel barrow down to the creek and fill several 5-gallon buckets to use for flushing the toilet.  Don’t have to dig very far to make a pond, either.  Since animals love water, we share our property with lots of wildlife.  One of our favorite types of wildlife that appears this time of year is spring peepers.  The song they sing is a sure sign that the warm weather is not far away.

For those of you who have the terrible misfortune of not knowing peepers, they are little frogs that make loud “peep” noises when the snow is all gone.  There are times when the little froggies are singing so loudly, you can hardly hear yourself think.   They are singing even as I write this.  Can’t you hear them??? In a few weeks, the toads will be joining in with their high pitched “whirrrrrrr” call.  Last but not least are the bullfrogs.  We love their song dearly.  Sure you can’t hear them???  Oh wait.  you probably don’t live in a swamp.  Well, I have a little treat for you… click here to listen toThe Lovely Song of Spring Peepers and Their Friends

One drawback of spring, however, is the appearance of land mines all over our yard.  Anyone here let their dogs outside to go potty?  Raise your hands… Well, here in Bear Swamp, we are borrowing 5 acres of land.  I say borrowing, because I believe like the Native Americans did:  nobody owns land, we borrow it from the Creator while we’re living on it.  Musky Da Husky would run to the North Pole and back if we let him loose outside, so he gets hooked up to a 50 foot chain when he has to go potty.  All this is great when there’s snow.  He goes outside, he poops in the snow, the poop disappears and ultimately freezes.  Frozen dog poop is suitable for being stepped on, because not only is it invisible (buried in the snow) but it doesn’t stick to your shoe.  And the snow makes a wonderful cloaking device for doggie doo.  Out of sight, out of mind.  Fine with us.

Then comes the spring thaw, crocuses, pussy willows, and the peepers.  But what to our wondering eyes did appear but eight thousand dog doodies over there and over here!!  Gack! And thawed dog dirt is not at all pleasant to walk on.  It can reduce a grown man to tears when the horrible “squish” moment arrives, and then of course the stench rises up into your nostrils.  Interesting, the physics of dog logs.  Well kinda I guess.  But now that I think about it, I’m strangely intrigued about why a big gob of hound dookey stinks to high heaven right after you step in it.  I mean, if it stunk that badly before you got it all over your new Nikes, you’d be less likely to walk where the canine caca is, right??  You’d get a big nose alarm and if you had any experience at all with stepping in dog crap, you’d take evasive action.

Maybe mutts are in a conspiracy, and they coat their logs with some sort of protective membrane that seals in the poopy aroma until we break the seal with our tootsies.  Who knows?  All I know for sure is that our husky can make the lawn a very dangerous place to walk in a very short time.  Sure he looks innocent enough, but I am beginning to wonder whether he intentionally makes little land mines out of poop especially for us.

We also have cats, and they go outside and actually bury their poop!  Such a novel concept!  Musky… do you see what the kitty is doing?  Pay attention boy!  No don’t dig it up and eat it!!!  Sheesh!!

So we live in a swamp.  With the snow gone, we’re basically living in The Land of Peepers and Poopers.  After writing all that stuff about dog doo, now my mind is wondering what happens to peeper poop.

Well OK, maybe I’d rather not know.

OK, if you look below this post you’ll see I’m ON VACATION.  So, I’ll post more stuff after I come back.

Peace,

Ken