Seldom recognized, but much appreciated, is the back-up filtration in your vacumn. This is actually a last line of defense — a screen — which protects the motor and fan from debris ingestion. It loads up with lint just like the trap in your clothes dryer. It pops out and needs to be cleaned occasionally. Doing so will extend the life of the motor and restore the your machine to peak efficiency!
The rambunctious rascals are burning energy in the halls. They are here for a soccer tournament and since they are probably cold, but unwilling to cover-up the light weight uniforms that they proudly wear, they must run up and down to make heat. Much of this exercise is wasted as noise. Here they go again…
Ben ordered the tacos especial along with a glass of lemonade, and I the tres enchiladas. We munched away the chips and salsa at the Cantine Flas and soon our waiter reappeared and gestured at Ben’s empty glass to offer another. There wasn’t much English spoken but Ben accepted and the waiter (curiously) asked a second time (for verification and understanding, I suppose). The check came and turns out that the refill was processed as a second order and the grand total for lemonade — six (6) bucks(!). Maybe should have said something.
Capture the flag. S’man and his armed buddies entered the wooded area. The object is to shoot and not get shot. His team has 15 minutes to waste the enemy with their Markers. Not a sissy laser tag game, these rapid fire weapons use CO2 or Nitrogen to zing a paintball at XX fps and a strike will sting like a hornet. The boys may not be as cunning or experienced as the older guys on the field but they make much smaller targets as they slink through the trees hunched over, locked and loaded. They scan and seek watching and listening. Some opponents are wearing camouflage. They all have helmets and face shields. I would require a full body padded suit myself but a little fear and pain goes nicely with the hunter-killer instinct. Go get ’em men!
We are camped at the holiday inn, Memphis. Also here: a manly bunch — attending a greens keeper conference where I’m sure they will hash out ideal sprayer calibrations, sprinkler cycles, cutting heights and other secrets of the trade. Perfect location. Next door to the hotel, a .::Platinum Plus::. (with its magenta neon signage they fondly nicknamed the Purple _____! and it’s bikini nite). Bummer! I will miss the show. We move on under cover of bright sunshine.
“Smart Dog!”, comments the park employee from the rolled down window of his official vehicle. Our soft trail crosses the access road at 90 degrees and I was on the other side looking back for dawg lagging behind when I spotted the ranger. I thought we were busted. It was not a question of the pet’s safety, the truck was moving quite slowly probably deciding how my predicament would play out. Having awareness of the local animal leash law it was show time for us. Dawg would either make us both look good, else we were setting ourselves up for a warning lecture. It would not have been too swift for him to scamper across the roadway to join me. I faced him and gave a single wait voice command (which he knows) and he held short at the edge. Whew! I backtracked to rejoin him as he waited obediently and Mr. Ranger rolled on passed. I was relieved to hear ‘smart’ as opposed to the ‘leash’ word earful. Good dog!
B.O.U.R.Girl screams for me from the wardrobe like the actress that she is, “there’s a b-b-b-bug!”. And yes, it’s a big dern cock-a-roach trying to blend with my maroon bath towel. I grab a hind leg with bare fingers only to lose the rest of the body into the shower mat below where it tries furiously to entrench and burro in. Gottcha, uh huh. I’m rewarded with a shot of stink and the creature rakes my finger with its other barbed leg but I cling and rush the perpetrator over to the toilet and bombs away. I had to wash hands (twice).
I didn’t exactly blush like a school girl but come-on. Our round table group in the employee break room latched onto family topic as we caught part of an TV ad about ‘4-D ultrasounds’. What ta heck is that and the FA (who just happens to be due) pipes up that she’d like one of those… I asked if she hadn’t had an ordinary 3-D and she gushed, “oh yes, you see I have a ‘tipped uterus’ and the baby’s heart beat was hard to hear the first week and…” I’m trying to keep my appetite while gulp down my soup and wonder where this is going. The FO next to me has a 3 year old and would like to have another. The FA’s turn again, “oh! are you guys trying?” —- oh puulease! Leave something to the imagination will ya?
Happening: Big dang Doberman wrestles loose from petite woman handler as B.O.U.R.Girl and Hawk Dawg breeze past. The Dobie charges full on and sensing a tango she releases Hawg Dawg to self-help. Hawg Dawg bolts away in a full retreat with the aggressor in hot pursuit. They are now gone, out of sight down the path, leaving only the sensation and shame of your ‘brave’ dog being run off. But hold up! The handlers arrive and it’s a clean fight. The Doberman is down! Pinned! Hawg Dawg stands overhead victorious.
It’s like a scavenge hunt. No telling what avenues of exploration will appear next. That’s why I’m so proud of Mom H. She is taking the internet by the horns and has a good understanding of it’s power. S’man and I are working on a project that will go live sometime soon. You are invited to a sneak preview of the prototype. Thanks for the inspiration Mom! — and keep on clicking those links.