Apologies Might Be Necessary

I write today with good news, bad news and down right ugly news. The good news is that my mother has been exonerated. It turns out that she didn't take the bag of peanut M&M's which was carefully hidden in my car prior to our Kiawah trip.

With that being said, I feel I should apologize to her for accusing her of such malfeasance. I will point out, however, that she acted awfully guilty for someone so innocent of any wrong-doing. I suppose that apologies should also go out to the rest of the family (you know who you are) who also acted peculiar, though you had nothing to do with the dissappearance.

The bad news is that the bag has been in my car this whole time. It's been pretty hot this summer. Need I say more? No worries, though. I'm only eating the ones that look normal.

That leaves the down right ugly news. The bag showed up under the driver seat. My hiding place in that car is a cavity in the far back of the car. That means that the strange happenings at the North/South Carolina border did more than shrink my beers down. It also moved my bag of chocolate and candy covered peanuts approximately eight feet within my car.

I may be heading to the library soon for books on strange happenings and paranormal experiences that relate to cars and traveling...

Cattle Call at Guilford Courthouse

It's been a while since I have been called for jury duty. I guess my number came up. It happened on a cold, wet and dreary Tuesday. Yesterday, in fact.

It always starts with the cattle lines in the front and in the lobby of the courthouse. Except these cattle wranglers don't have cattle prods. Instead, they are actually armed with guns, handcuffs and the usual fun accoutrements afforded only to police officers.

Well, this large herd of cattle was forced to sit together in a tight pen in the courthouse. I did have a fun conversation with the gentleman beside me. I jokingly told him that 'drugs make the world go round.' It pays to know who you are talking to, since my fellow bovine turned out to be a police officer!

After a bit of waiting, it was time to thin out the herd. Numerous people got up to give reasons why they couldn't serve. Minutes later, most sat back down in the holding pen.

I had high hopes we would get to watch a movie on the big TV inside our corral. No such luck. Instead, they gave me and my cattle brethren a crash course on what I learned previously in a paralegal class I once took.

Then, we waited. And waited. Several times, someone came in and talked at us.

After yet another waiting session, four more wranglers (alias a judge, bailiff and two attorneys) came in with a comedy routine, then informed us that we wouldn't be needed. Mooo! I'm not sure why. The message which followed the comedy routine eluded me.

So, after a quick role call, they opened the pen gates and released us back into the world. This herd was meant to be free!

Though I was nearly trampled to death in the mad stampede to get parking tickets validated and to get to the exits, I managed to survive to write about it.

Mooooooo.

Candy Sizes Prove Inaccurate

My natural scientific curiosity has taken control of my mind and I've started conducting experiments with some of the items that we sell at the little drug store in which I work

It seems there are several different classifications of size when it comes to chocolates and candy. And these classifications vary according to the company and product.

Let's see... We have mini-sized, miniature-sized, trial-sized, fun-sized, fun-pak-sized, share-sized, regular-sized, medium-sized, large-sized, king-sized and party-sized. I'm pretty sure that I haven't covered all the sizes available in candy, but that's okay. I don't know if I have time or space enough to delve into that.

I, personally, have tried many of these so called sizes and have learned a very sad fact. They're not true. We, as a country, may need to come together to form a large class action lawsuit against these chocolate and other candy companies.

The bag of mini-sized chocolates that I ate did NOT make me mini-sized. Likewise, the fun-sized package of chocolatey-peanut bars I ate didn't make me any more fun. In fact, shortly after consuming the entire package, I felt kind of queasy and sickly and mostly un-fun.

I suspect the large and king-sized are a bit more honest in their descriptions. I am questioning the whole party-sized concept. Of the people I know who enjoy chocolate, I know very few willing to share their chocolate. With that having been said, I don't think they'll be having parties to "share" their chocolate with others.

That means the size must refer to the person. So what, exactly, does party-sized mean, anyway? Am I party-sized? I know I have a bit of a gut, but, c'mon! Are we talking block party-sized or just soirée party-sized?

We need better, more definitive descriptions for these candy products. How about bubble butt-sized? Maybe spare tire-sized? Or even bust-a-gut-sized?

Until these companies offer more honesty in their product descriptions, I'm going to have to join the gym to reduce myself from party-sized to king-sized. Maybe I'll even shoot for regular- sized.

Latent Horsemanship Abilities Create Cowboy-Hottie

I'm back from my brief, two day vacation at Clear Creek Ranch in the North Carolina Mountains. All I have to say is that I am back in town as a new and improved kind of guy! You can call me Phillip 2.0, or cowboy-hottie Phillip, for short!

For those enquiring minds, here's what happened...

My wife and I eased into Clear Creek Ranch in the family Ford. The driver was but a nerdy, smart writer dude. (Note, if you will, the cool, but nerdy, smart writer dude in the photo to the left, otherwise known as me!) Somehow, Clear Creek Ranch magically transformed me into an adept, seemingly seasoned horse pro and potential wrangler.

 

During the short time I was there, I took part in three rides. On the first ride, I think the youth director, Wrangler Cassie, rubbed off on me, figuratively speaking, of course. By the end of that first ride, my horsemanship abilities practically doubled. I think she was impressed with me, and not  because I talked for the entire hour and a half that the ride took.

On the second ride, Frog, one of the coolest wranglers at the ranch, who is pictured with me below, must have rubbed off on me as well. (Note the transitioning effect from the first photo.) During our second ride, I had Gambler, my horse, trotting, loping and even cantering! I think Frog must have been impressed with my abilities as well.

He chatted with me after dinner that evening. I suspected that he might ask if I wanted to come back to the ranch to be a wrangler so that he could glean some tips from me. After all, by this time my horsemanship abilities were becoming legendary. He didn't, but he did politely put up with me talking incessantly about my blog, Fuzzy, Black Dogs.

They offered to take us on an extra, third ride on the morning of the day we were all leaving. I jumped at the chance and looked forward to showcasing my skills yet one more time before we made our exit. I was positively oozing cowboy confidence and was certain I had impressed everyone with my mad skills

 

After my third ride on Sunday morning, the transformation was complete. Note, if you will, the cool confidence that exudes from the photo on the right. You can almost see the cowboy swagger in the Han Solo-esque rogue smile on this hottie-cowboy's face. I must have smiled the entire trip home.

According to my son, I managed to push my horse to a slow trot and at no time during the entire trip did get my horse to lope. According to my niece, I managed to break the horse into a canter when all the other horses were loping.

Sadly enough, I did not get any video footage of any of the rides in order to prove my mad skills to the readers of this blog. And just because my niece has her own horse and competes in equestrian events doesn't necessarily mean she knows what she's talking about.

I will leave you with one parting comment, though. Just wait until next time!