Snickerdoodles

Makes about 48 of the suckers;

1 cup butter or shortening

1-1/2 cups granulated sugar

2 large eggs

2-3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons cream of tartar (do not snort)

1 teaspoon baking soda

Cinnamon and sugar mixed to taste (about 1/4 cup sugar to 1/2 tablespoon cinnamon is a good mixture….)

    Preheat oven to 400F. Mix together butter and sugar until smooth, then add eggs, cream of tartar, and baking soda. Stir in flour until well mixed. Roll into balls about 1" in diameter and roll in cinnamon and sugar to coat. Place on ungreased cookie sheets and bake 8-10 minutes. Cookies are done when they are just barely browning.

    I have grandkids and over indulgent relatives, so I stash half the cookies in an old plastic  Parkay Margarine tub and stick it in the fridge. No one wants to spread flavored Vaseline on their toast, so it will be safe in the tub. The rest of the cookies I place in the cracked cookie jar that Wifey pulls out every Christmas because it sorta looks like an elf, but really looks like something marching in a Mardi Gras parade. 

    A cold class of milk or a cup of good strong coffee and a few of these Snickerdoodles, along with a good DVD, and you’ll be set and content for the evening. Just be careful not to eat too many as they will tend to cause your colon to produce Snickerdoodle bricks.

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"Have you had your beer break today?"

    I was forced to go to the big ass airport in Tampa a few months ago.  It was to pick up my younger brother down from Georgia. I don’t like airports, don’t go to them and usually don’t even like to blog about them. That said, I continue…..

    I had rather get a full body massage in a biker bar than go to any airport. You see, I hate the ritual of going through security and getting my body ravished by an under paid, 250 pound Puerto Rican woman with thick glasses. As a rule, I have always enjoyed “find the quarter“, but, at lease there was some kissing evolved. At the terminal it’s more like “find the bomb.” Not that these folks would recognize one even with a lit fuse!&&&

    Anyway, I started my ordeal by squeezing my 300+ pound carcass through the ‘Zircon Molecular Ray Booth’ and then as soon as my bone screws set off the INVADER ALERT BUZZER, they directed me to a holding area where Gabriela awaited with her electronic prodder. Taking into account my size, it took a while…..my ass alone required three passes of the device. I removed my well worn Dockers and they are hurriedly searched for devices as old Dockers tend to emit years of foot fatigue and rubber gloves are not guaranteed protection from flipper fungus.%%%

    I was told to raise my arms in the event I may have hand grenades hidden under my arm pits. As Gabriela smacks on her worn out chewing gum, I know she staying alert to the fact she may have to take me down at any moment and at least that possibility is a turn on! Once she has given me the once over and I’m declared IED safe, I was then free to put on my fondled Dockers and continue my journey to gate #44, about three miles away!  I ride for a few blocks on a moving sidewalk that groans under my weight and gives me motion sickness. I then hop on the mini transit train that gets me closer to my gate at bullet speed. &&&

    After I jump off the Kamikaze express, I stop at McDonalds, (yes, in the airport!) to feed and rejuvenate. Later, I’m passing gate #40 and almost to my destination. Unfortunately, gate #42 had just unloaded a Delta 747 from Cancun. As the sunburned and hung-over passengers passed me like a herd of bewildered survivors, I stood against the corridor wall and allowed them to pass with their bundles of souvenirs, sombreros and AK47’s.&&&

    I finally reach gate #44 only to find my brother’s flight is 30 minutes late. I turn and head to Ruby Tuesday, (yes, Ruby Tuesday!), for a beer or two or whatever, I don’t remember now. Later, only by luck, I saw my brother walking pass the restaurant and ran out to meet him. I took him back into the establishment and we downed a few.  Later, once I paid the parking ransom for my car, I let him drive with a pit stop at HOOTER’S before we were to head home. &&&

    Later.........Wifey was called to come pick us up. We all got home and then the two of us boys kicked back with a couple of AmberBock’s and started to talk politics when all of a sudden my brother sat up and said, “My suitcase!”

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               The Message

    Old Plung sat close to the warm fire as he told the ancient tale of the day the great Muglut and his one eyed brother Nump, hunted the greatest of all woolies, “Old Snout.” The night surrounded the camp site with a thick darkness and the sparkling fire danced shadows off the wrinkled face of the elder. Waving his thin arms, he wove the story in the air to show the ponderous size of the beast to all the young boys that encircled the secure fire. “Old Snout was taller than three huntsmen standing on each other’s shoulders. On his head was enough fur to cover a proper hut and it’s swaying legs were like a mighty forest of giant trees.”

.....thump….thump….thump.

Plung looked over at one of the young boys who sat with a small drum between his crossed legs. The boy just sat there and stared into the fire as the storyteller continued. “The tusk, yes those terrifying tusk. I have seen Old Snout spear six men on but one of those horrid things and then lumber off to fed on them for the next few days….terrible, terrible things.”

 …..thud….thump….tap….thump….came the rhythm but of a distant drum, far into the darkness. Plung stared out into the night and listened, but now it was silent.

“What happened to Old Snout?” asked one of the boys.

“Aaaay, yes,” continued the old man, “Muglut and his brother tracked the animal for many suns before they cornered it in a dry river bed. Muglut faced Old Snout while Nump ran behind the woolly. At the right moment, Nump came up under the beast’s tail and ran his spear up into Old Snouts ‘crevice’. When the animal screamed out in surprise, Muglut then threw his long spear into the great mouth of the woolly causing it to choke to death. Sad for Nump, as he was still crouched behind the creature, that the great beast released a massive store of soft dung before dying, which cascaded down on poor Nump and the brother of Muglut then drowned there in the dry river bed.”

….thump…..rap…..rap…..thump……

Old Plung quickly looked over at the boy with the small drum again. “This is not a proper time to play your drum, boy!” he barked. The young drummer lowered his head in embarrassment.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “But it is Snaggit, in the next village. He wants to know what I’m doing now.”

“Why?” questioned the elder, “Why must he know all that you do so late in the night? Can he not wait till the sun and come to see you? Well?”

“I guess,” sighed the boy as he put his drum behind him. At the same time two others likewise did the same with their small drums.

EPILOGUE;

    I used this ancient tale to make a point. The other night, two of my grandkids stayed over and that evening, as we all watched a DVD called “10,000 B.C.”, both of them sat there in the dark with their cell phones lite up stopping every few minutes to check in with somebody in the next friggin village. I complained the next day to Wifey about it and she just gave me a pill and said, “Remember when we were in school and passed notes all day until we could get home to the phone? Every generation has found a way to connect. Now go take a nap.” The more I thought about it, (while I waited for the pill to take effect) the more I had to agree. There must have been something that every generation of youngsters relied on to stay mentally connected until they got older and their brains finished developing with common sense. I guess I’m just an old storyteller sitting around the space heater spinning yarns.

           DAD AND THE RAT

First, the Prologue…...

    When we moved into our house we found that the previous owners had left a few odds and ends down in the ‘half’ finished basement. Among the items were four very large rat traps! My Dad did not seem to deal very well with the possible fact that we may have rats the size of smoked hams. The basement was creepy enough. Half the basement was well constructed with a concrete floor and brick walls. The other half was still unfinished earth, spider webs and large yellow rat eyes peeping at you from every corner!

   Because the summer temperatures topped out in the high 90’s, Mom had Dad put in one of those little swinging doors on the bottom of the basement door for my dog Chiggers to come through and get out of the heat during the day. Dad was hoping Chiggers was a rat killer…………end of the Prologue.

   Every year Mom used to set up a serious bean garden. Always a good size one and from it she canned enough green beans for the winter not only for us but most of the neighbors and the National Guard. But it was a pain going out and watering it everyday.

   Now….Dad had events of genius just about every week when he and Mom went to the VFW for shrimp and beer. Most times, Mom just told him to put the beer down and took him home, but one time he made some sense! He wanted to make it easier for Mom to get her garden watered so he decided to chisel punch a hole through the basement wall and connect an old water hose to the drain hose on Mom’s washing machine down there and run the hose down to the garden. That way, each time she washed clothes the garden would get watered from the drain off. Dad lived for moments like this.

   Saturday afternoon…..Dad got a big hammer and a stone chisel and went outside behind the house and measured off where the washing machine would be on the other side of the brick wall. Finding what he believed was the right spot he commence to pounding. In the cool basement, relaxing, was Chiggers. When the pounding started, that poor dog went nuts! Seemed like the entire basement was coming apart. Chiggers ran around whining and trembling in the dark basement while Dad did his thing on the outside. After about ten minutes, Dad had finally punched a small hole through the wall. He then reached through the hole pushing the loose masonry out to the other side. At one point, he pushed his hand through to the other side.

   Chiggers was a mess by now. The dumb animal was running around in circles pissing on the concrete floor. When Chiggers saw something poke it’s way through the wall in that dark corner of the basement, he went wild! The dog ran and leaped through the air and clamped on to Dad’s hand with a ‘Vulcan Death Grip‘! On the other side of the wall Dad screamed! “Holy shit!! A big ass rat’s got me by the hand!!!”

   I’m upstairs watching TV and don’t hear Dad. Mom’s on the phone with her sister jabbering away and she don’t hear Dad. But our next door neighbor, Mr. Benze does and comes running over to Dad's aid. “What’s wrong Sam?” Mr. Benze shouted as he watched Dad twist and kick his legs in all directions.

   “A damn big ass rat has me by the hand!!”

  Mr. Benze jumps back like he thinks the rat’s going to gnaw it’s way through Dad and then come after him! “What do you want me to do, Sam?”

  “Go in the damn basement and beat it off my hand for Christ sakes.!” Dad cried.

   Mr. Benze ran to the basement door and cautiously opened it. “Hurry Benze, before it chews it to a stump!” Mr. Benze went into the dark basement and looked towards the corner where all the commotion was. It was dark and cluttered and he had to strain to see.

   “My God, Sam!!” cried Mr. Benze. “Your dog’s in there and he’s fighting the rat!!!”

   My Dad then shouted, “Get em Chiggers! Tear em up boy!!” At that, my dog bit down harder on my Dad's hand and this caused my Dad to start screaming like a sissy on a roller coaster. A few moments later Chiggers ears perked up. He could hear the ice cream truck coming up the street and chasing that truck held a priority over any basement varmints. Chiggers let go of Dad’s hand and ran out from the dark corner of the basement and then between Mr. Bentz's legs and then shot out the open door and then raced around to the front of the house and out to the street to wait for the ice cream truck. Dad jerked his injured hand out of the hole and collapsed as Mr. Benze came running out of the basement.

   “Your dog took off after it,” said Mr. Benze. “Couldn’t quiet make out what it was with everything happening so quick.” Dad just sat and moaned.

Now the epilogue……

   Several things happened later that summer, concerning the events I have written about. Dad got more than his share of free beers at the VFW by the retelling of the rogue rat attack. Mom’s entire garden died the first time the washing machine drained wash water that contained bleach and Chiggers got premium butcher bones all summer……what a hero.

   In Another Life.....

    I was foaled one spring day, 18 years ago. I weighed 79 pounds and my coat was a matted red. My sire was a majestic Morgan that stood fifteen hands tall and carried a respectable bloodline. As he traveled a lot doing one night stands, I was never afforded the opportunity to run with him and learn the ways. My mother was a working mare on the ranch and after I reached the age of eleven months I was left to the devices of the other yearlings as we galloped the pasture harassing the old stallions.

I took to harness when I was two years but tended to be difficult under the reins. Early one day, four keepers came into my stall and backed me into a corner. One keeper pulled out a slender metal object and an instant later my loins went spastic as all four keepers jumped back. I must have kicked for an hour. For the next few days I stayed backed into the corner of my stall in total confusion with no sense of what I was now feeling. I was led out of the stables after a week and by then I felt calm and relaxed but I did notice a strange attraction for the Clydesdale stud located in the last stall.

The years passed as I accommodated everything my keepers wanted from me. I was fed well, my hooves tended to and I was brushed everyday. Some of the more inferior ‘dung droppers’ would come and go, but, I knew I was among the favored as the young offspring’s often rode me two at a time and I was always careful in my gait. My life was good.

I am now well into my 18^th year. This morning, my keepers came into the stable for me.  They led me outside and then up the ramp of an enclosed wagon. It then rolled away and I rode in it for most of the day. It was night when the wagon stopped and the gate was opened.  I was led down the ramp and then placed into a coral with many others of my kind. There was no fresh water or grain and most all the horses were stirring and becoming agitated. We all felt each other’s fear and as the stress increased so did the fear.

Half way through the long night, a large door opened onto the coral and keepers with ‘hurt sticks’ started herding some of us into the giant stable with bright lights. The large door quickly closed before I could enter. There must of been water and feed inside and this caused excitement among the remaining breeds and agitation at the same time. 

The sky is now lit and the large door has finally opened again and this time the remaining herd needs no coaxing to enter. As I enter the large door into the brightness inside, I see that all the keepers are wearing white that is covered in dark stains. I hear my kind start to scream.

    The effort was agonizing. Fear, confusion, thirst and the surreal brightness of the place numbed his mind. She was holding up better than him and he hung on to her and was ready to hold her pack if needed. The eyes were everywhere…..everywhere. They were watched with every shuffling step they took. Some showed no real interest but others were strange and menacing. He knew they would soon need food but they had to keep going. The sparse foliage they passed was tall and rich but bore no fruit. They passed statues of strange beings and objects that often made little or no sense to this place.

Thirst.....gnarling thirst was tormenting his throat. She was stoic and concealed her own discomfort.

    “I can’t take this much longer, I’m dying,” he groaned. “Food, I need food. I’m so weak now I can hardly walk!”

    “You crybaby!!” she replied. “You started complaining as soon as we parked the car. After Sears, then we’ll go to the food court, okay!?”