Shoup Airlines

And so it begins

Another chapter nears its rightful end as the quaint little house on Diablo Circle goes up for sale. I can’t begin to describe how much fun it is having agents and interested buyers arrive at all hours of the day wanting to walk through. It cracks me up how each little tour feels more and more like they are judging my lifestyle within the house as opposed to just looking at the house.

This also signifies the end of entrenchments between myself and the never ending ant army. I believe they realized sometime ago that they met an admirable foe and are just standing by until the changing of the guard. They have show of force marches from time to time but dare go no further than the driveway or patio. As for the earwig faction, I’m of the opinion that their numbers were decimated and moved on. I find the occasional wig but it has never been enough to warrant a report to command. I can only hope the new owners have an appreciation for seven legged spiders and a healthy fear of the other bug.

More importantly this also means that sweltering and sticky corner of Alabama is nearing the horizon. Rumors of what to expect are flying at Mach 4. I’ve received more advice from people that have never been through the WOC program and even some that have never been to Rucker! You know how hard it is to keep a straight face through that? One would think my body is wrought with excitement, but pain is the better descriptor here. I’ve begun a workout culled from Basic and AIT exercises learned last year and hurt does not begin to describe what I feel. My triceps are screaming bloody murder, my abs revolt every time I blink and my lungs incinerate with each intake of air. God, I love that ache-filled feeling of a new workout!

So as this chapter plays out its final pages, the questions and heady anticipation of what to expect in the next chapter begin to play hide and seek not only with me but all of you as well. Care to join me?

El Diablo’s Believe It or Not

Remember the seven leg spider controversy? Apparently while I was in Basic, the Spider Hunters (several of the Little People) decided to do some arachnology at El Diablo. Unfortunately, the seven leggers proved more elusive than normal, discrediting my claims to the contrary.

I just discovered the other night that these budding arachnologists had invited themselves into my place in search of that mythical septachnid over a year ago. I, myself, have not even seen a septachnid since the original incidences. In fact, I had long forgotten about them. So what do you think the odds are of seeing one immediately following the dinner where I found out a quest in the name of science had been conducted at El Diablo?

What? You don’t believe me! Ah, but I have corroborating proof and two eyewitnesses! Then again, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t believe these two witnesses either when they put out stuff like this!

Nonetheless, there is still the photographic evidence. Caught on film for the first time ever, The SEPTACHNID! All rights reserved. Patent pending.

Well played, Madam!

The city’s sanitation company has finally switched to those uber-sized trash cans with wheels and a hinged lid. I always crack up when I drag the less than quarter full thing out and the neighbor’s is getting ready to erupt, Vesuvius style.

Yesterday, the robotic arm on the truck, either in disgust from it’s dead end job or possible carpal tunnel issues, threw my can down with such angst that it broke one of the wheels off! When I arrived on scene, the missing wheel was nowhere to be found, and you’d be surprised at how difficult it is to drag one of these trash cans with only one wheel.

So I called the trash company for a possible replacement.

“Okay, just go ahead and leave your trash can out front. We’ll be out to fix it.”

“Wow, that’s pretty quick. Thanks.”

“Oh, I didn’t say tomorrow. I can’t really tell you when we’ll be out. Just leave the trash can out front.”

“Oh. I see. You can’t tell me because you’re really a clandestine outfit, or because you feel sorry for the cable company and want to make them look good?”

“I’m sorry, sir. We’ll be out when we’re out.” (she actually said that)

“Oh, no problem. I’ll just expect my trash can to be repaired between now and Chevy Chase’s meteoric return to comedy.”

“No, more like Carrot Top’s.”

“Touché!”