Shut up and dance!

Hayter article for May 10, 2020

“The Agony of Murder Hornets… and Toenails.”

            One morning last week, I yelled for Kay to get her buns in the bedroom so I could show her something very important. Immediately, she hurried on her way. After 48 years of marriage, I have taught Kay not to expect, which is good because she didn’t appear the least bit disappointed in my genius.

            What I did was pull the top sheet tight over my feet with my toes sticking straight up. Then I moved my feet back and forth like windshield wipers. Who hasn’t done that? But -- and here’s the beauty of it -- the sheet fibers began making a raspy noise as they rubbed against my sharp and pointy toenails. I told Kay that after about 30 minutes, the top of my toenails would be smooth as a mousepad.

            Kay said something that actually caught me off guard. She said, “That reminds me of a song.‘Daddy, cut your toenails, ‘cuz you’re ripping the sheets.’” Before she could head back to her makeup mirror, I said, “Where did that come from?” I thought I knew all the stupid songs of my youth. Kay told me that her mom used to sing it.

            When I asked Kay to sing the toenail song, she had to think a minute to come up with the tune. What is bizarre is the fact that the rock group “Walk the Moon” stole the tune for their hit song “Shutup and Dance with Me” from the sheet ripping song.  Instead of “…oh, oh, oh, shut up and dance with me!” Kay sang, -- “Daddy cut your toenails, oh, oh, oh, ‘cuz you’re rip-rip-ripping the sheets!” -- Before we married, that girl was never that animated.

            Okay, raise your hand if you want to keep talking about toenails. Anybody? Okay, time to ramble.

      ✿Speaking of Mother's Day, I’ll bet Elsie Hayter got fewer flowers on gift-giving occasions than any other lower-middle-class mom in the country. We were a rather practical family. If you couldn’t eat it, use it, or play with it, we thought it not worth buying. With that rationale, Mom seldom got anything womanly as a gift.

            No one knew what kind of clothing to buy her, dad least of all. -- “A cowgirl dress? I thought it was a bathrobe.”  -- “Regardless, Dad was a great husband. The husband doesn’t have to get his wife something for Mother’s Day, Dad always did. He even gave us an extra allowance so we could ger her something. The apple fell a good distance from the tree because I never got Kay anything for Mothers’ Day. Let’s face it, we’ve never had kids. If there was a “Wife’s Day” I’d be all over that thing. At our church, the ladies always get a flower for Mother’s Day, and I never tell on Kay when she accepts one. Considering what that girl has to put up with, I figure God isn’t holding it against me.  

            ✿Have you heard about the Asian Murder Hornets? Well, you don’t want to. These things are scary. They’re about two inches long and look vicious as all get out. While they can kill a human, they prefer honeybees. I mean they eat honey bees, and then steal their nests and eat all the wax and honey. ‘]

            Two of the murder hornets have recently been found in Washington State. The only way the honeybees have devised to combat the murder hornets is to pile on top of a single hornet and stay there until their body-heat kills it. The process has only been replicated in an empty mayonnaise jar. Unfortunately, there were about 200 hundred honeybee carcasses at the bottom of the jar laying around with the dead hornet.  

            A contributor to Kay’s High School blog said it all when he wrote, “What is this murder hornet panic all about, and how much toilet paper will it take to kill it?” -- While that was a pretty good joke, there is no humor to be found in the discovery of these murder monsters.

            ✿While Kay and I were walking in the backyard yesterday, I asked her to identify the bird that was making a strange chirping noise. She told me to go inside and get her phone because she has an app that can identify a bird from its song.  

            That is just so flabbergasting! Mark my words, in time your cell phone will be able to tell you why your baby is crying. Without the use of a lie detector, a cop will be able to ask a suspect a question and immediately know if he’s lying. (I imagine they can already do that.) A psychologist will be able to say, “No, there’s nothing wrong with your marriage. You’re just upset at the Texan’s draft.” 

            Has this piece not been a wealth of information? If you run into Kay during the week, please don’t ask her how she puts up with me. She’s running out of answers for that.

            By the way, I searched for the lyrics to the toenail song and found out that it’s “Daddy cut your toenails.’ It’s  “Baby cut your toenails” I couldn’t find the lyrics, but for 99 cents, I could download the song. I have always refused to pay over a dime for a toenail song, so I’ll just have to live with the mystery.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

Hello, Bradstone?

Hayter’s article for May 3, 2020

“Hello, Bradford?”

                                                                                                                               

            “And you think the movie came out in 1990? That narrows it down. Oh, yeah, I’ll leave no turn unstoned until I find it. And you’re fairly sure that Mickey Rourke is in it? Super. If I can find the movie I’ll watch it today. Okay, I’ve got to run, Bradley. It’s past time to write my article. Yes, I’ll try to leave you out of it.

            “By the way, after you hang up, I recommend you try your luck again at some magnet fishing. It will add a little tension to your day. Okay, later, Bradstone. Remember to be happy about having such a good friend. -- Who’s Larry? Bye, Bradford.”

            What a jack-- Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I had enough time to talk to Brad Meyer before you showed up. I was wrong. I couldn’t help notice from his e-mails that the man was bored. I pick up on stuff like that. Earlier this morning he wrote - “I AM SO BORED!!!!!!”

            Let me give you a little bit of advice, here. If you know someone who is upset over not having anything to do, don’t call him. I was on the line with Bradley for 45 minutes and now I’m tempted to get out the extension ladder so I can jump off the roof. It’d be my luck that the parts of my body I shatter will not be classified as “essential to life”. -- “Mr. Hayter, it’s only your spleen. You can lead a near-normal life without that thing.”

            By the way, isn’t this a lovely day? There are red, blue, 'lallow', and pink blossoms in Kay’s garden. -- Beg pardon? -- Oh, “yellow”. At times my diction takes a quick trip back to my childhood. It usually doesn’t stay very long… unless my kid sister is visiting. Jill and I seem to be the only Hayter kids who took note of our younger years. When we’re gone, we’ll be taking a load of crazy with us.

            What was that? Oh, the comment about magnet fishing? No, it doesn’t involve fishing for magnets. It involves fishing for metal with a magnet. I think I wrote about it not too long ago. Before the pandemic hit us, Kay and I were invited for supper over at Brad’s house. I like supper, and I like Brad’s lovely wife, Nancy, who doesn’t do the cooking.

            When we got there, we sat on the backyard deck and visited. Brad has an egg-shaped hanging rattan-chair on his backyard deck. The egg chair was one of the most fun places to sit that I’ve ever sat. The next time the Meyers take an overnight trip, I think I’ll sneak over and steal the chair. So, I’m twirling around and swinging up and down for a good hour. Then, we go magnet-fishing… I mean fishing with a magnet. It was Kay’s idea. It was a fluke that Bradmeyerson had a bag of magnets. They weren’t nearly as strong as my bag of magnets, but they’d do.

            We trolled for iron objects for about an hour and a half from Brad’s pontoon-boat. The anticipation of the adventure didn’t come close to the actual experience. All we hauled in was a net. Not Annette. It was a fishing net that got away from Bradullford on one of his previous boat trips. The magnets didn’t attract the aluminum-poled beast. It was the webbed part of Annette that got tangled with the bag of magnets.

            When we returned to shore, Brad asked if anybody was hungry. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it could be interpreted as sarcasm. Brad told me to keep my shorts on, and he’d cook supper. Keep my shorts on? We got there at 5:30 and at 8:00 he decides to “cook” supper! If he pulled a frozen rump roast out of his freezer, I was going to end it right there.

            What he did was pour some Italian dressing in a skillet and grill some chicken breasts. So 20 minutes later we had a tossed salad, green beans, and grilled chicken. Everything was delicious. Perhaps I was just hungry. Naw, it was delicious. During our late supper, Nancy mentioned that her young granddaughter cries if she sees a green bean on her plate. I told her that Big Al used to do that when Mom made salmon patties. Elsie’s salmon patties were not among her better entrees. Fortunately, Mom took her chopped fish recipe with her. Al’s over it now, but he gets this weird facial tick when the memory is raised during our conversations. I raise it a lot.

            There is a good chance that if Al happens to read this, he’s going to mess me up. No worry, if Bradson reads this I’ll likely end up at the bottom of his lake with a bag of magnets wrapped around my neck. While there’s nothing I can do about Big Al, I may be able to smooth things over with Bradford, by finding the 1990 movie he recommended. How hard can that be? --No, I’m asking.

            Eight minutes later: Isn’t the Internet wonderful? The movie is called “Desperate Hours.” I just saw the trailer. It’s got Mickey Rourke and Anthony Hopkins in it. That pairing is wrong in so many ways. -- I’ll give the movie a shot. Having a good friend can be costly. If Brad really messes me up, there’s going to be an egg-shaped, rattan chair hanging on my porch.

.          

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

Observations of the bored mind

Hayter’s article for April 26, 2020

“Observations made when you have nothing else to do”

                       

            If you can make it through this shelter-in-place phenomena without becoming more observant of some of the stuff that’s going on around here, well, then you’re doing it all wrong. Let me tell you, I’ve become so observant of interesting stuff, that I could write a book. Here’s my first chapter

      ✪Every engineering major in the country should take a course called Squirrels 101. Squirrels are among the most creative creatures on the planet. If you were to put three sunflower seeds into a sealed jar with the lid super-glued, set it out in squirrel territory, and then took notes, you would discover that the seeds will be gone on the morning of Day 2. The critters might even screw the lid back on for you.

            I did a lot of research before purchasing a “Squirrel Proof” bird feeder. I got one I knew would drive squirrels nuts. (Beg pardon? No, that wasn’t intended.) You see, when a squirrel or large bird tries to grab seeds out of my new seed-giving apparatus, the door shuts. Only light birds can feed. Now if a creature could hover over the feeder, it might be able to snatch a seed or two. But there are only three such creatures and they each is a resident of Madagascar.

            I suspended the bird feeder on a thin line affixed between two tall poles. Before this pandemic hit, I had noticed the seeds were being dispensed, so I assumed the birds had been taking advantage of my kind forethought. I’ve got great forethought. Well, now that I’ve had time to observe stuff around this place, I discovered that the name of the seed distributor had been misnamed. I now refer to as “The Squirrel Feeder.”

            I’d tell you how they mastered the contraption, but I don’t want to give anything away until my “Squirrels 101” textbook goes out of print. I will tell you this, though. If squirrels were just a bit more decisive about when best to cross a road, they would take over the world. Of course, they might have to wait in line while the monkeys take over. Monkeys are diabolical. They’ll steal your turkey right out of the oven and grin at you while you’re yelling at ‘em from the hallway.

              ✪ You should take some of your downtime to change the oil in your lawnmower. I’ve had my mower for three mowing seasons and had yet to change the oil. A mowing season around here is from March through January. The handbook that came with my “Husqvarna” mower instructed me to change the oil after the first five hours of usage. After that, I’m supposed to change it at the end of each season. I considered that a closed-door meeting between Penzoil and Huszvarna was responsible for the five-hour recommendation. (Side note: After careful research, I discovered that “Husqvarna” is one of 18 lawnmower companies headquartered in Bucharest.) (Side note 2: Some columnists will make up stupid stuff when they don’t care to do any actual research.) 

            Where was I? Oh, first oil change after five hours mowing. -- Well, not being a complete idiot, I waited three years for the shelter-in-place edict to show up before changing my lawnmower oil for the first time. The oil was pathetic-looking. It resembled a slightly melted licorice whip. The mower giggled when I restarted it. I was so pleased about the oil change, I thought I might as well take time to check the lawnmower blade. Upon doing so, I immediately decided to get a new blade, instead of sharpening the old one. (A smart person told me that a newly-sharpened lawnmower blade dulls really fast. I paid the smart guy to tell me that.)

            When the next pandemic hits, I may take time to change out the air filter on my Husqvarna.-- (By the way, Kay just informed us that our mower was made in Sweden and that the engine was manufactured by Honda. Do you see what I keep this girl around?) 

            ✪Do you have any idea how many “Conversation Starting” games there are? Several. There is a site called “Conversation Starters World”. Among the games is one called “21 Questions.” You write down each question and put it in a bowl. Or a jar with an unsealed lid. --Unless you’ve got squirrels in your house. .-- Anyway, a guest draws a question and answers it. Then they either pass the bowl to the next person who draws another question or they take turns answering the first question.

            I think this is a great game for you. Me? Not so sure. Let me read you some of the questions. -- 1) What should they teach in school but don’t? -- -- 2) What do most people think about you that is absolutely not true? -- 3) What are two things you know you should know how to do but don’t. -- 4) In what ways do you change when no one is around? (That one is scary.) -- 5) What movie or book do you think was the most overrated? (The problem with the book idea is that I don’t read highly-rated books. I prefer waiting for the movie to come out. Unless it’s a thin book like “Bridges of Madison County.” Raise your hand if you think Clint Eastwood should’ve let someone else play his part.)

            By the way, I’ve included one more question, but it’s not for you. It just for me. -- “How do you know when to quit your article?” -- Well, I usually-- Oops. I see that my word count is way above the acceptable mark! -- Next time.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

Mapless trip

Hayter’s article for April 12, 2020

“Dilemmas? I’ve got a few”

            Over the past month and a half, I’ve had a lot of time to notice things. I’ve noticed that during bad times, I hang my head more than usual. In doing so, I’ve become sadly aware of the floors in this house. Look at those baseboards. Force yourself! This is the first I’ve noticed the emulsified-dust covering. It laughs at a duster or vacuum. That gunk holds on like a label on fruit. Unless Kay starts looking down more, I’m going to be the one cleans those buddies.

            Last week, Kay hired an outfit to clean our windows. We’ve never hired anyone to clean our windows. We used ME. Every eight years I’d end up having to clean the windows. We’ve lived here a little over two years, yet we paid to have our windows cleaned. No one will notice our clean windows, because we’re sheltered in place. Remember?  But, take my word. Our windows are sparkling. Fish Window Cleaning. Ask for Elijah. After Elijah left, I thought he left one of the windows open. I came close to sending my hand through double-paned glass. I  have had some stupid moments of late. That was just a taste.

            I wish you’d take a look at the clock on the wall to my left. No, Ed. That’s my ballcap. Look higher. Yes, it’s the round thing, doofus! -- I’m sorry about that. I’ve been getting a little testy, too. But, back to the cheap clock. That thing has been up there since shortly after we moved in. I look at it multiple times each day. Yet, this is the first time I ever noticed how loud it is. That thing is powered by one AAA battery, yet it could win a distraction contest against my neighbor’s weed eater.

            You’re, no doubt, dying to know how much TV I’ve been watching. A lot. I watch TV mostly to keep my head raised. I only watch at night. I’ve seen every recent, lousy movie available on Netflix and Amazon Prime. Mostly science fiction and revenge movies. No Zombies or Vampires, or monsters that attack if you talk or drop a stapler.

            I not only watch a lot of movies, but I’ve been reading more. Mostly the newspaper. I hate to do this to you, but I need to tell you about toilet paper. Yep, I’m sick of hearing about it, too, but the subject dips deep into the heart of America. It should come as no surprise to you that people have purchased twice as much toilet paper as they did this time last year. There are a couple of reasons for that. For one thing, the kids aren’t at school using up the principal’s toilet paper. And the heads of households aren’t at the workplace using up the company’s toilet paper. So while businesses require much less soft and snuggly tissue, households need more.

            And, the shelves are generally bare, not because we’re running out of toilet paper. It’s because we’re running out of good toilet paper. In schools and factories, they only use the stuff that comes out of Green Bay. The stuff was originally used as a liner for oven vents. Bosses and School Superintendents wanted the non-absorbent toilet paper to keep workers and students from stealing it.

            Yet, there is still enough of the good stuff to keep shelves stocked. The problem is they had to create a spider web of rerouting routes and add delivery times for trucks and the people who drive them. And, of course, more people were needed to keep the shelves stocked.

            Another factor leading to the TP shortage is the hoarding-factor. (You may not have picked up on that.) At the beginning of the scare, some people were hiding away toilet paper like it was a box of Hershey bars in a liferaft. My extensive reading regime has allowed me to discover that the three most hoarded items during times of disaster are bread, milk, and toilet paper. Not necessarily in that order. A fourth item that did not make the list, but should have is spaghetti. The last three times I went to the store, there was no spaghetti. Somebody around here has an inordinate amount of spaghetti in their house. And, we need to find ‘em. I can understand toilet paper, bread, and milk. But, Spaghetti? What’s this country coming to?

            The good news is that there is an overabundance of chicken wings. Unless you’re hosting a group gathering, you’re not going to buy wings. They’re the most expensive part of the bird. Do you know how many chickens have to be killed to prepare a wing meal for a family of four? Twenty-three. One of the chickens will just lose the one wing.

            Restaurants and venues for sporting events haven’t been buying nearly as many wings as they did before SIP (Shelter In Place). Unfortunately, the other parts of the chicken are in big demand, so it’s still necessary to kill the whole bird even if there is not much demand for the wings. In anticipation of the arrival of more pandemics, scientists at A&M are working on the chicken problem. Possibly.

            See what I mean? I am learning so much from this horrible experience. Another month of this and I’ll be even smarter than I am now. And snarky. Oh, I’m getting snarky all right. But, I don’t care what you say or how much pressure you apply, I am not going to watch a single Zombie or Vampire movie. I just won’t. And, don’t even bring up a horror movie with the words “Silent” or “Quiet” in the title. That’s the line I will not cross.

            But, let me tell you, there is no line between me and a spaghetti hoarder. -- These are dark times, my friend.

           

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hayter.mark@gmail.com