Our Lucky Day
I didn't realize it until I heard it on the radio this morning. It's Friday the 13th. Our lucky day...Unless your a Knights Templar. Sure enough I saw what appeared to be a Thunder Head building back over the Balsams as I passed through town this morning. But, that would be a good thing.
You're standing there bare footed looking at the broken mirror all around you. You're wondering if you should tip toe through the shards or try to pick up the shattered pieces. If you tip toe out of them you will surely get a piece in your tender foot, if you pick them up you could get cut holding the pieces, much less picking them up. Either way you've got bad luck for the next seven years.
Bad luck, it's what you make out of it...
The Appalachainsit
posted by Hill Billy Rave | Friday, June 13, 2008
12 Comments:
I didn't even pay attention to it being Friday the 13th. It's been a pretty good day, so far, but we still have 3 hours and 15 minutes left!
Sage, I can safely say my Friday the 13th went off without a hitch as well. Assuming the 3 hours and 15 minutes went well.
I was doing great . . . didn't even think about it until I was reminded it is . . . dare I say it . . . Friday the . . . no, it is Saturday . . . so, I have had a good day all day. I am trying to get to Brevard, but tomorrow is Father's day. No, I will not get 3,441 phone calls . . . just two. Thank you very much . . . , but I was sweatin' the 13th . . . a day behind and a dollar short. Bill
Well, I was tired and going to bed after posting my comment, but I made the mistake of clicking on the Hives . . . , and now I am wide awake. I liked it. It reminded me of the night before I went on active duty. Nancy Spansky and I were out until 4 in the mornin' and closed the Fiesta in Rock Hill, South Carolina or at least Nancy did. I know . . . well I know . . . The Hives weren't around in 1968 . . . , but the itch was and so was a brand new candy apple red Mustang with a black interior . . . the song is a good one . . . thanks for postin' it. Someday, as that news person say . . . I'll tell the rest of the story. Bill
Lucky I did not realize it was the 13th until after it was all done. I had the day off(from work, but not from working)and spent the whole day using sharp, rapidly spinning power tools such as mowers, chainsaws, and roto-tillers. And of course I work in shorts and flip-flops. So... glad I waited until Sunday to catch up on your exploits.
I do appreciate you stopping by and kicking me in the ass to get my own humble blog re-started. I posted fishing pictures which are a lot like bear hunting pictures, except without the bears. Or dogs. Or, I suppose, hunting. But then again, no one has ever beeen mauled by a bass. That I know of. And, I suppose, if they did it was just God telling them that they were too stupid to live. "You...Outta the gene pool."
You'll today was my Friday the 13th. Me and my cousin, The Reguvinator (AKA Jello Boy) and Wiggly Butt Walker Dog floated The French Broad from Rosman to Island Ford. We hadn't gotten out of Rosman and we dumped the canoe. The rapids shot up against a big Sycamore tree. He had insisted on taking an aluminum canoe instead of the old patched up fiberglass job like we had before on account of some of the rocks. I disagreed, but, it's his canoes.
That heavy and higher walled canoe hit that Sycamore and we flipped. Me and Wiggly went all the way under. AKA Jello Boy managed to keep his head above water. I had just gotten a Fathers Day call from my Step Son and my phone was in my pocket. I had neglected to put my camera in the elephant rubber for an easier reach, the case being water resistant, but my 2 meter hand held, a Yaseu VX 170 kept ticking and after taking off the battery pack it was completely dry inside.
I shut the phone off and took out the battery, and the same with my camera. Neither work right now and I'm trying to dry them out.
Wiggly was terrified and tried to climb up under me nearly the whole trip. I also began to feel a crick in my neck and I now sit here smelling like Bengay. My neck has not been this stiff since I caught my shoulder on the door way of a C 130. But that's another story...
AKA Jello Boy had his stuff in a Nalgene water proof box that was high up on his camel back. The box stood up to a dip.
I'm glad you liked The Hives Bill.
Which song?
Ed, the other day a Bear Hunter from Jackson County told me Bear Hunters are Fishermen with their brains half knocked out. Feel free to kick me in the ass.
PS. I have some pictures to post if they survived.
Good Lord . . . the French Broad . . . I thought that was a lazy man's trip compared to the Ocoee . . . my bad . . . I did like the Hives . . . is Well All Right the song? LOL on the phone . . . water does 'em bad. Bill
Bill...It is a lazy mans trip. If you never fuck up you never do nothing. We did have some troubles with a couple of snags. The Asheville Airport is 7"behind in rain fall...So we're behind and me and him were in a heavy canoe. "Such a drag"...
Yeah, the lyrics of "Well Alright" fit the post in a way. You hear it on the Sears Maytag commercials these days.
Well, least y'all didn't experience anything worse than a good soaking and damage to some material things.
Speaking of worse and C-130s, the worstest plane ride I ever had was a C-130 through a southeast asia almost-but-not-quite-a-monsoon storm for 2 hours and then landing on a PSP runway that had more dips and undulations than a roller oaster.
Of course it's actually a toss-up 'tween that ride and one in the middle seat of a DC-9 in the pattern at O'Hare with thunderstorms in the area stuck between a big ol' boy with a laptop and a nervous lady on her first plane trip, ever.
Again, glad to see you be okay and you definitely don't sound like you're friggatriskaidekaphobic.
Yo . . . you is sooooooo right in your reply . . . I am laughin' my . . . . well, . . . er, no . . . . I am glad you made it out of the canoe and got home. Yeah, I had a peaceful canoe trip down the Congaree until we landed at Grandby below Columbia. You would think when we landed on the Lexington side my being in the back of the canoe that I was close enough to land to just exit the canoe and go ashore . . . no such luck . . . the bottom of the river was six feet away . . . so much for wading ashore . . . always remember I am on your side . . . God bless you . . . it is all good if it don't kill ya . . . take care . . . er, . . . more care. Bill
Gunner, both the phone and the camera are working. The camera still has some moisture in the lens and my outside screen on ht phone is not working.It did the same thing last time it got wet.
I've had some rough rides on a C-130. That night we were jumping Fryer Drop Zone on Ft.Benning. I caught my right shoulder on my exit from the aircraft and went out a little cocksided. It just felt a little warm when I hit the DZ, and it was red and swollen in the shower that night. The next day I couldn't lift my arm past my shoulder and for three weeks straight I kept getting severe cricks in my neck...Right side. Like now.
No, I can't say I'm one of those thins.
Bill, that does not sound like a fun experience. It reminds me...
MyLt.in Iraq was a Marine, he talked about an amphibious landing in Egypt with a 100 meter beach head...thanks to the Egyptians...for a hole Rgt's worth of men. The water ended up six feet deep and it got rather dangerous. Can you imagine?
I know you have gone on to another posting, but I looked to see if you had posted on my comment, and your reply reminded me of my father-in-law's tale of landing in North Africa, perhaps in Algeria. He said he stepped off the landing vessel into a shell hole and almost dround. He was fully loaded . . . perhaps sixty to one hundred pounds on a man who might have weighted one hundred and sixty at the age of thirty. They called him Pappy because he was the oldest. God bless him . . . like many Southerners who grow up around streams and rivers he probably did not know how to swim. He remembered the difficulty of trying not to dround fifty years later . . . as a yound man his test of strength was to tilt a bale of cotton on his back and lift it and walk it across the floor . . . you know what a bale of cotton weights . . . five hundred pounds . . . if you plow a mule long enough you might not be a mule, but you may damn well be as as strong as one. I always held that little man I respected and loved in great awe. I am in his debt, and I know it. Bill
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