Thank you, thank you (you can stop clapping and sit down now). I will accept this award in honor of all the downtrodden and unused tools in the world. If we all work together, we can solve this problem.
Um, does this award come with an armoire?
Um, I don’t have a spare armoire, but I could knit you an arm band - would that work? 
Well I’ve scratched a few heads here looks like. I get often mixed up with things that reguired my presence without ever leaving the farm…beats me must be some inherent born “remote” capabilities. Let’s move on with finding out what the hair is going on to be so confusing. Not only to peoples I know not from Sam Hill, but likewise to myself. Heck I go for a recharge and come back to total uncertainties…
Rue DeDay - Hi yourself and thanks for the encouragey. Can never cover oneself with to much of that stuff. You are welcome for the post and I do try to always complete any post I started. What leave a halfassed post in my wake …get outa here.
Shibb Oleth - No, unless Lissla Lissae came by when I was somewhere else rather than home and I missed a surprised visit from some peoples I’ve never had the pleasue of meeting OR she did come by and without the vaguest recall of such event anywhere in this mind I’ve blocked it out and missed an opportunity of enrichment, forgive me I apologize. With this in mind (your). Coincidence could have very little to do with my being an Arkie NewbiE posting here. Rather than…it is…“fate” which has brought these occurences to the surface. Oh my blaa blaa.
Lissla Lissar - Sorry, I’ll try and be home next time. Hope the hassle hasn’t been overwhelming.
Balance - The few bean bag gods I’ve saluted with are top shelf, front row dudes. Two even went with us to see Dylan a few weeks ago. Hell of a party but we went all out ya know. It’s the only thing right.
OK, has this straighted or waded the situation? Can we at least learn nothing and go with it, I’ve tapped low and must recharge or faceout the other possibilities.
What’s an allen wrench?
Here you go MonkeyMensch
Well, see, the furniture faeries around these parts are kind of cranky. Besides, it’s much easier for me to drag the stuff out to the curb if it’s in smaller chunks. Once the city had an Electronics Recycling Day just when I wanted to get rid of this monstrous 20-inch CRT, the type used in CAD workstations. That sucker was too heavy for me to pick up so I scooched it along the floor to the back door then managed to millmeter it onto the front of my wheelbarrow, but just barely. When I finally got it out to the curb I had just started to tip the barrow up when all that weight shifted and nearly catapulted me into the street. I learned my lesson there.
Electronics and wheelbarrows don’t mix.
This is my new motto!
These are of course things that all good Americans associate with Arkansas. That and those funny plastic pig hats at the University of’s home games.
Nothing personal there, thinline!
I think I need a plastic pig hat. Wait, those are hats with aplastic pig on it, not a hat for a plastic pig, right? I mean it could be like those costumes you can get for your concrete geese. Not specifically your concrete geese, because you may or may not have one concrete goose, let alone multiple concrete geese.
I have a wheelbarrow. At least the Little Woman has one and she doesn’t mind if I use it. At least if I don’t get it dirty. I used it yesterday to move rocks. Not to throw away, because who would throw away a rock? (Actually I know this one lady who threw away a bunch of rocks. Because they were dirty.) But when we moved into Rancho DeDay (which wasn’t “Rancho DeDay” when we moved in, but it is now) there was one of those little ponds in the back yard. Only we didn’t want a pond in our back yard. So we gave it to Skippy. (Ha! We sure put one over on him! He came over to visit this one time and we snuck the pond into the back of his truck!) Now we have a pond-shaped hole in our back yard surrounded by rocks. Only I moved the rocks. And started to fill in the hole. Then I got hot and tired and under the rocks there were a bunch of ants, so I quit before the ants could attack me.
That was yesterday.
-Rue. (wheelbarrow-y)
I have this mental image of Skippy driving his truck around town, blithely unaware of the fully landscaped pond, complete with water and koi, that now resides in the bed of his truck.
It’d be a conversation piece, at any rate.
How did you distract him long enough to put the pond in his truck? Get him drunk? Hit him on the head? Have Mrs. deDay flash him?
And wasn’t all that water heavy?
We almost bought a plastic pig hat. One of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen. Other than that, we spent a lot of time in used bookstores and stuff. Didn’t really see much of Little Rock, really. Ate a lot of very good food, though. Did I mention the good food? Not enough, probably.
thinline, how dare you! I drove twenty-two hours to Arkansas and you didn’t even stay home! See if I ever come to visit again! 
You gave your pond to Skippy?? You mean you had waterfront property and you gave it up? So that loud thud I heard was your property value plummeting, huh?
My parents had a pond-like thing in their yard when they bought their home in '79. Turns out it wasn’t a natural formation, but the result of a diverted stream. Previous owner thought it was a good idea. The diversion was restored to its original state, the pond became a weedy patch at the foot of the hill, and all that remains of the water feature is a photograph my sister took.
Did you remember to clean the wheelbarrow??
Skippy’s not what you’d call real observant Winnie. He was climbing a tree with little Soupo and I snuck it in his truck. Since it was all gross and stagnant anyway I bailed it out a couple of weeks earlier. (That was pew-y.) (Pewey?) (It was way smelly.) Too much the magnet for the boys and the little dog.
Of course I cleaned out the wheelbarrow Snickers. I always take care of stuff I borrow. This time I just gave Katcha rides around the yard in it until his little butt skidding around scraped out all the dirt.
So you didn’t go see the Little Rock in Little Rock Lissla? It’s a big deal, I’m surprised you missed it. (“And this is the Little Rock our fair town is named after. Isn’t it lovely?” It’s got a real nice tour. And a gift shop with replica Rocks.) If you went to Colorado Springs (in Colorado oddly enough) would you skip the tour of the mattress factory that that town is named after? The first mattress factory west of the Mississippi River.
Yeah, you would probably skip it. You can just be That Way.
-Rue. (touristy)
Aaahh! You took the water out! See, that makes so much more sense.
So, has he noticed it yet or is it still there, Rue? If you got any rain recently, he may actually have a pond in the bed of his truck. You could test him and slip in some goldfish.
- Winnie (literally)
Ok, I’m sorry, I’ve been fighting it all week, but I just have to nitpick a little teeny bit.
Reins. They’re called reins. And they don’t go in the horse’s mouth, they are attached to the bit which is held in place by the bridle.
I know you’re not a horse person. And just because I know the name of everything doesn’t mean you do. So, I don’t mean to sound snarky, really I don’t, but did you really not know that or were you winding me up?
Hello, everyone, and welcome to “You’ve Been Whooshed!” Our first guest tonight is Wintermute, who, while confused by Rue’s stream-of-consciousness writing style, mistakenly took him seriously…
It’s not that Rue doesn’t know anything about reins, Wintermute. Although I suppose I don’t really know that he knows–how can any of us really know what someone else knows he knows? Regardless, he was writing from the viewpoint of a character that knows zilch (i.e. “nothing”, not the Torysteller) about horses. That whole “no use for a horse outside of a stewpot” thing. Of course, knowing Rue, he will now turn up and inform us all that he had no idea what reins were.
Just so you know, you know? 
I hear tell that Rue knows all about reins and other leather goods.
I’m afraid that’s all I can divulge. 
Rue, you had a water feature and you threw it away? That’s what they’re called, water features. No, I don’t know why.
Mrs. B. wants a water feature in the back yard in the worst way. And that’s probably how she’ll get it. You coulda mailed it to me. How big was it? Was it really big? See, 'cause I’m mad at my mail man. He bent my mailbox when he stuffed FairyChatMoose in it last week.
Kallessa, your plea has been heard, and is being taken under advisement by my …umm…advisors, and as soon as I can get my corpus habeased you will receive an answer forthwith and hereinafter, forsooth.
I want a plastic pig hat.
And lather gloves, as well.
hey, Bumb, Miss Moose is a dainty flower of femininity - she doesn’t get stuffed anyway! Sheesh! 