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Murder at the Castle

February 24th, 2009 by witherow

I am a loser.

A loser who hasn’t posted on my blog for OVER A MONTH.

I repent in sackcloth and ashes.

Actually, no, because ashes are messy and hard to vacuum out of the carpet, and it’s hard to find good sackcloth these days. But you know what I mean.

But though I may be a loser, I am a loser who went to a murder mystery dinner … in a castle.

Yes, a castle.

A couple in Traveler’s Rest built a castle (well, technically a “castellated house” but it was still grand and impressive). My friend Amy (who is a generally awesome person) knows the couple, and they came up with the idea to host a murder mystery, using a kit you can get at a game store. ‘Twas fun.

Amy played the part of the waitress. And of the Mastermind behind the whole thing. So, kind of a … waitress mastermind.

And I dressed up like a groovy Flower Child psychic. Because that was my character for the murder mystery script. Well, I was supposed to be a psychic. I kind of added the Flower Childness. And definitely the grooviness.

Here’s me in all my groovy, Hippiesque, stone-wearing glory. Oh, and you may notice I’m wearing the antler pendant that was blessed by a shaman (if you have no idea what I am talking about, see my post “Of Mustaches and Medicine Men”).

There’s really not much to say about the evening, except that it was hilariously fun, I didn’t kill anyone, the Grim Reaper came to call, and … did I mention the house was a castle??

Here’s a link to more pictures of the home: www.castlewoods.info. It’s really beautiful. And it’s for sale! So go visit the website! Look at all the pictures! Buy it at the auction in March! Move in and host your own murder mystery! And invite me! I do a pretty sweet Flower Child psychic.

Posted in Hijinks | | | 0 Comments

Non Sequiturs and the People Who Love Them

January 17th, 2009 by witherow

Tonight a few of my friends came over (namely Brian, Catherine, and no fewer than two Mikes, as well as sisters Molly and Becky) for an evening of homemade cookies, spiced cider, and a game that involved writing … what a great combination!

I’ve played a version of this particular game before, but it never ceases to entertain. Here’s the basic concept: each person writes a sentence or so of a story on a sheet of paper, then passes it to the next person, who—without reading what’s already been written—writes the next part. Each story, then, has six different writers, none of whom knows how the story is turning out until it is read out loud at the end.

So are the stories random? —Well, no, but that’s only because we have decided the word “random” is overused. We are now replacing it with the word “aleatory,” which means “dependent on chance or luck.” Which is kind of the same as “random,” but it sounds much more intelligent, does it not?— So the stories do end up being quite aleatory. Non sequiturs abound. And it’s really, really funny.

To help the stories have a little hint of structure, the first entry must describe the time of the story; the second, characters; the third, a place; fourth, an event or action; fifth, a motivation or reason for the action; and finally, a conclusion.

So here are some of the results. I’ve done a little mixing and matching, and I have separated the phrases of different writers with ellipses.

So without further ado, let the madness begin:

In the year 1987, when hair was big, jeans were stonewashed and any teen named Corey was an automatic heartthrob. … Bobo the Conqueror, overlord of the sunlit lands … was in the international foods aisle at Wal-mart … doing his favorite indoor sport. … “I admit it,” he said. “I did it—all of it—because I wanted the Everlasting Gobstopper. I know it’s dumb—but it is a really good Gobstopper. And it lasts forever!” … And so he went waltzing into the sunset, not caring where he was, or if the person he was with even wanted to waltz. THE END.

It was morning—you could, like, practically hear that Grieg piece playing, it was so gorgeous … Frederich Heimlich Gugenstein the Fourth, the amazing court jester … was in the valley where Simba’s dad was plowed under by the wildebeests. … A swarm of long-eared yellow locusts descended, consumed every African violet, orchid, and spider plant in sight … because the whole town was out of mouthwash and the aroma of gingivitis permeated the air. … The music swelled, the dancers swirled. Somebody’s toupee fell off but nobody noticed. It was the Grand Finale. THE END

On a day in the not-so-distant future, proclaimed “Obama Day” in which everyone goes outside and chants the word “change” until they are all confused … the Vienna Boys Choir (who were taking a tour of the lower 48 provinces of Brazil and were distressed to find there weren’t 48 of them) … were on top of that mountain peak that’s in all those inspirational office things (you know, the “success” wall art—well, anyway, the actual peak). … They jumped for joy at the thought of having their toenails surgically removed … because butterflies are priceless, helpless victims. … So they all ate fish and sang happy songs about bowling. THE END.

This is a postmodern story. It happened whenever you want it to. … Shaw McGillicutty O’Patrick the Hun … was amid the blazing tropical effervescence of exotic Murupaypay Island. The birds were singing, the lotuses swayed, and the porpoises had stolen someone’s pina colada. … He sang. No one listened. He stood on his head. No one saw. He drank an entire gallon of milk. That’s when people started noticing him. … Because it felt good, so he did it. … So he got out the cold roast beef, the cold ham, the freshly baked bread and the Grey Poupon, had a picnic and called it a day, ignoring the cries of distress around him. THE END.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. … Augustus G. Pfeffenroth … in the furthest reaches of perfumed Arabia … wept until he could weep no more, then got bored and started making squeaky whale noises using blades of grass … because his third grade teacher told him to. And he knew everything, even long division. … And then he was relieved to discover that the Boxcar Children were finally retiring after 180 years of solving mysteries, all the while remaining the same ages they were 178 years ago. THE END.

And then there are two story endings that I especially liked.

The first is compliments of Becky: “But in the end, it all turned out okay because Josh’s mom won the lottery and split the reward with the entire seventh grade.”

The other is by Catherine, who at this point admitted that she was feeling pretty sleep deprived: “‘Tadpoles! Tadpoles is the winner!’ cried all the characters in our story. Then they all went home and slept it off.”

Which is what I’m going to do now … sleep all this aleatory stuff off. THE END.

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Ask not for whom the bell chingeth …

December 13th, 2008 by witherow

Well, here I am. My church’s Christmas play, A Jerusalem Story, will be performed tomorrow morning. After a months of researching, writing, gathering props, learning how to direct and act at the same time, and ordering fake beards online, I just won’t know what to do with my time once it’s all over.

Wait, I just remembered. I will sleep.

A lot.

Until like March.

In all seriousness, I am excited how God has allowed everything to come together, even when I doubted this all would work. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not about the acting or the set or the fake beards (which I am SO glad I don’t have to wear) — it’s about showing a little glimpse of how wonderful Christ really is. Soli Deo gloria.

Midway Bible Church doesn’t always do a drama at Christmas, though. Last year we just had a small program of Scripture reading and singing. I found another old instant message conversation from last Christmas, this one with my friend Mike, in which we allude to this program. Among … other things.

MIKE
do you hear the bells?
for whom do they toll?

ME
the silver bells, or the big scary church bell?

MIKE
um…

ME
Ask not for whom the bell tolls

MIKE
the little ceramic ones shaped like snowmen and things
except little bells don’t toll
they tinkle
or ringle
or go ching ching ching

ME
Ask not for whom the bell ching ching chings

MIKE
hmmm
it chingeth for thee
somehow that doesn’t make chills go down my spine…

ME
it’s the kid-friendly version.

MIKE
who wrote that anyway?

ME
Um, I was about to ask you that.

MIKE
rats

ME
I am a failure as an English major.

MIKE
oh well
uh..
I mean
that’s too bad. I fully commiserate
here’s a virtual hankie

ME
thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhttttt!
That was me virtually using said virtual … oh, never mind

MIKE
my friend made fun of me the other day and I asked him if it was possible to send whooping cough as an e-mail attachment
he said to try

ME
Did it work?

MIKE
I didn’t try
I’m too nice
WE’RE GOING TO COUNTRY CUPBOARD TO GET THE BREAKFAST BUFFET TOMORROW MORNING
oh what happiness

ME
Fancy!!!

MIKE
I can eat breakfast sausage until it comes out my ears

ME
I’M GOING TO MY MOM’S HOUSE TO GOOF OFF ALL DAY TOMORROW.

MIKE
cool
I was going to ask if you were there already yet

ME
I went home earlier this weekend, but came back here so I could go to Midway today for the Christmas program.

MIKE
how’d the program go?

ME
I was reader number three. nothing fancy, but it was little and good.

MIKE
I’ve always wanted to be the Third Reader
kind of like Shakespeare’s Second Murderer
Only not

ME
Hee hee. Becky and I thought of a prank to outrank last year’s refrigerator decorating

[[To explain--The year before Becky and I had decorated the refrigerator on Christmas Eve. We tied dozens of little ribbon bows around the pickles, ketchup, steak sauce, everything. On Christmas morning, my mom sure was ... wondering about the mental health of her daughters.]]

MIKE
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh
I have just written the longest “ooh” in the history of English literature
what is it?

ME
I doubt that’s the longest one, but I digress. we are going to string yarn across the kitchen. It will be so obnoxious and we will be in such trouble! oh boy!

MIKE
can I help?
I could maybe create some sort of diversion

ME
can you send us some virtual yarn?

MIKE
I can try
I’m going to get going
I need to go to bed early if I’m going to get up and eat all that food in the morning
it takes a lot of energy

ME
Wow. That’s intense.

MIKE
yes it is rather
I’ll send an attachment with some yarn

ME
say hi to Judith for me

MIKE
I will and I will tell her that you’re super offended cuz she hasn’t called

ME
Great idea! adios and merry Christmas!

The yarn stringing did work. Now we just have to come up with another Christmas Eve prank … one that is funny, random, and will make my mom laugh, instead of one that will irritate and anger my mother and make her want to return all of our gifts on the spot. Christmas morning is a sensitive time to do things like this.

Oh, and right after our conversation I had to go look up the poet. Because I’m dorky like that. And if I can’t match random lines of poetry with their poets at a moment’s notice, at least I have some pretty amazing Google-fu (that’s like kung fu for nerds).

It was John Donne.

Posted in Hijinks, Strange E-mails, That's life | | | 5 Comments

Pumpkins REALLY don’t have ankles

October 31st, 2008 by witherow

Some people have wondered why this blog is titled “Pumpkins Don’t Have Ankles.” The reason is … because I am a firm believer that they don’t. And to prove this statement is true, Christy and I went to the infamous Pumpkintown Pumpkin Festival.

No, for real. There is a place called Pumpkintown and they have a pumpkin-themed festival every fall. See? Here’s photographic evidence:

I figured if there were any place in the world that might be weird enough to have a pumpkin with ankles, Pumpkintown would be the place. So off we went.

Can you believe over 30,000 show up for this thing?? And all of them just stand there in the way when you’re trying to get from point A to point B, which is especially difficult when you’re trying to maneuver with a guide dog!

Anyway, Christy and I did our little investigation. What we did find:

1. Lots of homemade crafts. I got a tea cozy for my little Irish grandma! (a tea cozy is like a toboggan for a teapot—keeps your tea warm!)
2. Barbeque sandwiches and fresh mountain apples (mmm)
3. An entire section of booths decorated with Confederate flags (umm … the two Northern girls didn’t go there).
4. Some obnoxious Pomeranians in a baby stroller that barked at Reba like they wanted to take her on

(Reba, rolling her eyes): They ain’t even dogs, I mean it! Can’t even walk on their own. Man, I ain’t got the time o’ day to waste on them! [For a fuller description of Reba’s inner monologue, please visit her blog, People Are Dumb.]

5. Pumpkin butter! (we won’t think about the fate of the poor little pumpkins used to make said butter)
6. A creepy old redneck dude who tried to get us to look inside a doll-sized outhouse and talk to the Barbie inside … um … yeah … um … there is no word in the English language adequate to describe the awkward creepy crude weirdness of this moment, so I am forced to invent one: awkreepudeness. Blech!
7. A magical mini-donut making machine, in which the baby donuts float down a river of boiling oil only minutes before they are covered in cinnamon sugar and consumed. A health nightmare, but Christy found them heavenly, and I must admit they were kind of toothsome!

8. Bluegrass music

9. And finally, though not as plenteous as one might expect … pumpkins!

See how happily the children frolic in the orange round delightfulness? And not an ankle among them!

Among the pumpkins, that is. I’m assuming the children did have ankles. But the pumpkins didn’t. Pumpkins don’t have ankles.

Which is what I’ve been saying all along.

Posted in Hijinks, People Are Weird, That's life | | | 0 Comments

The Great Birthday Caper

October 10th, 2008 by witherow

So … Steph neglected to remind us of her birthday last month. Because of this, we (her caring friends) decided to make her pay with an evil birthday scheme that put her powers of logic to the test! Bwahahahaha!

Ahem … But such an undertaking cannot be done without a lot of careful planning. Our first priority was, of course, to play mind games with our dear friend. This entailed telling Steph we were doing something for her birthday, not tell her what that something was, and then make a concerted effort to make her worry about it. *evil grin*

I made her a nice ransom note that read “StEPh—wE kNoW abOUT the biRThdaY. yOU WoN’T geT AwAY wiTh It. BwA-hA-Ha-ha-HA.”

Brian and Mike wrote some lovely email haiku, including:

What plans lie ahead?
Nothing but time can tell that
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

Tar and feathers? Worse!!
Birthday cakes with rocks? Better!!
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

It’s your destiny,
It is unavoidable
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

And our personal favorite:

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

Mel waxed philosophical:

A Birthday Formula for deep consideration: by Anonymous Party-goer

Birthday + Friends + Party = Good Birthday
Three holes we all can fall in:

Birthday + Friends – Party = Cheap Friends
Birthday + Party – Friends = Lonely Birthday
Birthday – Friends – Party = Travesty

One slight deviant off the Good Birthday…
Party + Friends – Birthday = Procrastinating, or perhaps simply impish Friends

Brian gave me a simply brilliant idea, in which I sent Steph link to a website renting out dunking tanks. A little while later, I emailed her back and said I really meant to send her a link to a picture of fuzzy kittens and that I hoped I hadn’t frightened her.

Steph was sufficiently worried, much to our delight.

So on Saturday morning, Steph arrived at my apartment. I answered the door wearing a trench coat and sunglasses and handed her a clue.


Me: “Agent Lucky, get in position. ETA 15 minutes.”

Steph successfully cracked the code and figured out the clue. It led us to Red Robin out on Woodruff Road, where we found her friend Rachel, waiting with a balloon and another clue.

This one led to P.F. Chang’s Chinese Bistro. where we found Brian, sitting under the giant horse statue and listening to his IPod.

He gave Stephanie a clever “Haiclu” to solve. Part of it read:

Perhaps you like clues,
Although I think that you don’t.
Nice time we’re having.

Eat bread with your friends,
Read stuff online with coffee.
Atlanta? Uh no!

You’ll notice that the first letters of the lines spell out “Panera,” as in Panera Bread, where we found Rebecca waiting with an evil “get the people across the river on the raft with impossibly hard conditions” puzzle on the Internet. And Steph actually solved it—and fast! (I tried a few times and couldn’t do it, so either Steph’s really smart, or I’m really … uh … wow, Steph sure is smart!)

The next stop was Barnes & Noble, in which Steph had a mini scavenger-hunt-within-a-scavenger-hunt, in which the names of certain authors and titles of books led her to spell out the next clue, leading us to Mike in the Snack Shop.

Mike had an unassembled puzzle of a deceptively cute baby polar bear licking his cute little paws. But when we assembled the puzzle, we found a hidden reference leading us to Performance Hall.

At Perf Hall, we were accosted by two suspicious-looking people (Mel and Vanessa) in trenchcoats and sunglasses.

Mel handed the tormented birthday girl a final poem:

On Elusive Parties and Partiers

You seek us here, you seek us there.
You seek your party, you don’t know where.
You’re gaining friends along the way.
(You’ve let them know that they will pay.)

Your birthday came. Your birthday went.
But there’s still some birthday to be spent.
For nothing more do friends enjoy
Then plotting plots and scheming ploys.

Solve this riddle, and use your brain.
Fix the cube without going insane.
It will lead to a place of rest,
Of cake and party, of no more tests.

All Steph had to do then was solve a Rubik’s cube! … (or just unscramble the letters I’d taped onto it.) (Mel, by the way, knows the secret of how to solve the cube, so she gets like 5 and a half cool points).

The letters spelled out “Pavilion,” where Steph finally found her party and could finally relax without having her brain taxed and tested! Steph passed every test! See how she grins in triumph!!

The best part of the whole party, for me anyway, was seeing my best friend have a good time.
The SECOND best part is that the whole scheme actually worked!! I was quite afraid someone would be left stranded at a restaurant, or have to wait for an hour, or get attacked by wild possums on the way to the next location … any number of things could have gone wrong. So hurrah for a successful party, and hurrah for my new vow never to attempt another birthday this complicated ever! Ah-haha!

Posted in Brilliant ideas ..., Hijinks, Poetry that oughtn't | | | 2 Comments

The Stephanie™ doll!

August 8th, 2008 by witherow

My long-time roommate Stephanie moved out this week (sniff sniff). And so as a tribute to her, and as a continuation of an inside joke (e.g., the Theon Doll and the Joe Doll), I have secured for her a very rare, limited edition Stephanie™ doll.

With catchphrases including “I believe in a thing called Luuuve” and “Fire is my friend,” Stephanie™ comes with her own firewand. Combine with the Emily™ doll for refuelable firewand fun!

Of course, Stephanie™ also loves her a giant Burnsomatic candle lighter …

… and a nice big bag of Reeses Pieces.

She also enjoys locking Emily™ out of the apartment.

The Emily™ doll, incidentally, is also available. With catchphrases including “Alas the day” and “People are weird,” Emily™ has forehead-smacking, Boswell-kicking action! (She’s also willing to kick William Blake and Cornelia Funke if needed.)

Emily™ and Stephanie™ hang out with their favorite Eiffel Tower lamp …

… and their favorite voodoo doll (please don’t ask).

Stephanie™: “Hee heeee, hee heeeee …”

Emily™: <<forehead smack!>>

Put the Emily™ and Stephanie™ dolls together in an apartment and the fun–and oftentimes bizarre–times will just roll!

Thanks, Steph, for all the great memories!

Posted in Hijinks, Most popular posts | | | 4 Comments

Weird stuff around the house

July 6th, 2008 by witherow

This blogpost is about as random as it sounds. So with no further introduction, and with a deep sigh from my roommate beside me …

Yams are good food. They also grow sprouts if left in dark places.

Like our kitchen cupboard.

Mmmm.

Random thing #2:

When I went to my family’s house, I was warned about the green goat.

The green goat is a scary looking dog toy that all of the little poodles are afraid of and won’t play with.

Apparently its squeak is too loud.

Our other explanation is that it’s because it steals your soul when you squeak it.

View with caution.

And remember–never squeak the green goat.

Posted in Hijinks | | | 0 Comments

A Sock Monkey at the Beach

July 5th, 2008 by witherow

Once upon a time the Park family went to the magical island of Hilton Head for a much-needed vacation. Because this was the Park family, they decided not to take normal pictures and instead focus on the adventures of a little sock monkey who came along with them.

The journey to the island was a long one and took place in a Honda CR-V that was a little small for four twenty-something girls and their mother. So while Mom drove and Becky whined about people poking her and Emily read a book about visual impairment and Heidi mastered a book of Sudoku puzzles and Molly read some theological book and longed desperately for her French dictionary even though she doesn’t speak French, Sock Monkey tried to find a safe place to hang out without Heidi squishing him between the car roof and the sun visor (which, tragically, happened at least once). When Sock Monkey and the Parks arrived at the slightly skuzzy Metropolitan Hotel, they were confused by this sign on the window leading out to the half-foot-wide balcony:

Apparently the hotel owners wanted them to know that yes, it is “legal to have owl on railing.” Sock Monkey wondered if they had accidentally ended up at Hogwarts. The Parks’ best guess was that at one time the lettering had said “Illegal to have towel on railing.” This dilapidation of the Metropolitan’s signage, coupled with the bug on the mattress pad they received instead of the extra blanket they had asked for, and the blank stare the people at the desk gave Mrs. Park when she asked for some … what was it called? … oh, yeah, SOAP, convinced the Park family to find another hotel for the remainder of their trip.

The first evening on the island, Sock Monkey and the Parks went to sit out on the beach as the sun set. It really was beautiful. The next day was also spent at the beach.

Sock Monkey had a great time hanging out with Heidi,

and Becky, who was listening to her Ipod,

and Molly, who was reading some other weird book,

and Mom, who tried to squeeze Sock Monkey’s life out between the pages of a book on corporate leadership (poor Sock Monkey!).

So Sock Monkey decided to hang out by Dr. Seuss-like sandcastle Becky had made by dripping very wet sand into globs.

Like on any vacation, the Parks also had to go shopping. A lot. And find weird stuff to take pictures of. Though nothing could beat last year’s sequined fanny packs and “pickled baloney rope,” this year’s grand prize winner was this solar-powered flashlight.

So if you need the sun to power the flashlight, does it not work in the dark? Emily was greatly confused by this.

Well, so much for that. Back to the beach, where Becky and Molly built Sock Monkey the Grandpappy of all Sandcastles.

It was four stories tall with a drawbridge, a Pit of Death, and multiple wooden spikes to discourage invaders and the nearby drunk frat boys who might try to kick it over.

Sock Monkey approved. Then, after some more adventures, including getting lost and driving around in circles, receiving painful sunburns and eating more highly-caloric food than one family should in one week, Sock Monkey and the Parks returned to the Upstate, where Monkey will happily live out the rest of his days, reflecting on his Adventure of the Grandest Sort and trying not to get squished by more books.

Posted in Hijinks, That's life | tagged , , , , | | 0 Comments

Homeschool Conference Madness: “Children in Bulk”

June 25th, 2008 by witherow

My sister Heidi once expressed how she didn’t like classroom teaching. It wasn’t because she didn’t like children individually or in small groups. She said she just didn’t like children “in bulk.”

Well, Heidi, now I understand what you’re talking about.

On June 20 to June 21, some friends and I headed down to Sumpter, South Carolina (a place I didn’t even know existed. Apparently it’s about an hour from Columbia). Our mission: run the children’s program for a homeschool convention taking place that weekend.

Here I am with Melissa on Friday morning, all smiles as we get ready to head out.

Mel, Allison and Brian were likewise cheerful.

It seems only Kevin, here looking armed and dangerous (with a SuperSoaker) had any idea of what we were getting ourselves into.

After arriving in Sumpter and setting up the stage and making approximately 63 gallons of instant lemonade, the children began coming. And coming. And coming. It was kind of like in the old movie The King and I when that goofy music is playing and the dozens of royal children keep coming in, except there was no music and they weren’t Siamese and they didn’t have those goofy hats. But other than that it was the same.

We tried to keep the 97 children at bay with puppet shows and songs and Bible stories and outdoor games. But it wasn’t quite enough. Things got to their lowest point about 3 hours into the program, at the dreaded craft time.

150 pipe cleaners.

97 children.

6 adults.

2 bottles of glue.

Let the madness begin.

Here Mel, me and Allison demonstrate how we all felt at this time.

After that, we had a short (very short) break. By that time the rest of our party came, bringing the adult count to 10, and we figured out how to get a little better organized. Things went a little more smoothly after that.

Karen takes over checking kids in and out.

Puppets Elmer and Ralph were always a big hit. Even when Ralph coughed up a puppet frog out of his throat and showed it to all the kids. Later he coughed up a puppet alligator. (By the way, Brian Tojdowski, you have a twisted imagination.)

During Fun Night, Kevin performed some amazing magic—I mean, illusion—tricks (which were pretty amazing—how does he do that?), and we also had skit time.

Here, in the classic “Superheroes Who Never Made It” gag, Say-Everything-Twice-Man (played by Allen) fails to stop the thug (played by Todd) from stealing the money from the hapless victim (me).

After the children left on Friday night, the group split up and spent the night in host homes. Allison, Mel and I were treated to a beautiful cabin home that our host himself had built for his family.

Here’s the room I stayed in. Floors, walls, ceilings—throughout the entire house, everything was beautiful stained wood. I can’t get over how amazing the whole thing was.

On Saturday, we geared up for another day. We played water games, did more crafts, fed the children snacks, did puppets and illusions and skits, then went out and played more water games, did more crafts, fed them more snacks …

Lorna (in green) led the outdoor games. Yes, the bullhorn at her side was necessary.

Here Allison, me, Brian and Todd perform the infamous Rhyming Song.

“The stars are twinkling in the sky,

The Rhyming Song, the Rhyming Song

There’s no hot water in my hotel!

Uh … the Rhyming Song??”

And then, at last, the children (some of whom we actually had become somewhat fond of) all went away. And there was much rejoicing!

Well, it was kind of a subdued rejoicing, because none of us had any energy left to exert on such frivolity. We were lucky to drag ourselves to the restaurant.

After stuffing ourselves at Outback Steakhouse and drinking all the water and sweet tea we could manage, we all piled into our respective cars and prepared for the two-hour trip back to Greenville. I guess we could have thought that one through a little better.

Actually, the trip back was fine. Blessings on Allison’s head for not only driving us back, but actually staying awake the whole time. This is not something we take for granted.

And the country we were going through was absolutely gorgeous.

Finally relieved from our duties, and enjoying the pleasure of sitting and resting in the car, there was only one problem. Every time I tried to close my eyes all I could see were children, children everywhere, crowding around me and asking me for more glue …

Posted in Hijinks, That's life | tagged , , , , , | | 3 Comments

A wee bit o’ Scottish fun

June 7th, 2008 by witherow

Yep, time for another grand adventure! I went with Christy and guide dog Reba to the Greenville Scottish Games, an annual outdoor festival held at Furman University, which has a tradition of being 1) always a great experience and 2) always in the middle of an extreme heat wave.

I came prepared for the festival. Not only did I practically take a bath in SPF 50 sunblock, I’m wearing a shirt with a Claddagh [pronounced clah-dah], though it’s technically an Irish symbol. The two hands represent friendship, the heart they’re holding represents love, and the crown on top represents loyalty … or at least that’s what About.com says

Others dressed up a little more for the occasion. There’s no place better than the Scottish festival to see hundreds of otherwise normal men wearing knee socks and kilts. I think this guy was part of some sort of parade or something, since he’s holding a flag of what I assume is some specific Scottish region or clan.

Wow, I feel like I’ve just stepped into a production of MacBeth. Notice this guy’s huge sword slung across his back. Yeah, it was pretty awesome.

One of my favorite parts of the festival is visiting the many specialty vendors. I purchased cool Celtic knot earrings and Christy got a Celtic mood ring. There were also kilt accessories, bagpipe pieces (apparently you have to assemble your own), swords, shortbread, flasks and bumper stickers that said things like Great Scot! We also found custom-made dog collars in the tartan patterns of hundreds of different counties and regions of Scotland. They even had some Irish counties, and we managed to find the pattern for Donegal, where my grandmother grew up (yep, I’ve got authentic Irish in me). I was going to get one for one of her toy poodles, but then I discovered they cost 24 bucks a pop. So sorry, Hershey, the thought will have to count.

Oh, did we mention the temperature outside was pushing a hundred degrees? This is why I took very few pics of me and Christy. Stops to stand in front of this oversized fan basically kept us alive. I’m soooo glad I wasn’t wearing a woolen kilt!

Then it was time to eat. Among other things, this stand is advertising (in the small print) “Haggis Pockets.” Mmmm …

So yeah, pretty much Christy got a chili dog and I got some ice cream—the kind that’s made of tiny dots. Christy insisted on my having a new (safe, American) food experience (she and her sister were also the ones who convinced me to eat the deep-fried Oreos a few weeks ago). The dots tasted great, but the only real difference I could tell between it and regular ice cream was the texture.

While we were eating and then watching a program, a dude walked by wearing a kilt and carrying an electric guitar! Alas, my camera was in my bag, and I missed what would have been the perfect cover photo for my dissertation. (As some of you may know, I am currently compiling information for a dissertation titled “People Are Weird.” At the moment I have more material than I know how to work with.) Anywho, the rest of the time, I kept my camera handy, but the electric-guitar-kilt-dude was gone.

I did manage to snap a photo of these kilt-wearing punks, complete with tattoos. It’s not the best picture because I was trying to snap a photo without them knowing I was doing it.

This very friendly Celtic warrior let us take his picture, however. He said he goes to Christy’s church. So I guess the warrior get-up is only for special occasions?


Christy and I found a shady spot and watched the border collie competitions. Using a series of whistle commands, the shepherd gets his highly-trained dog to herd a small group of sheep through a series of gates and into a pen. It was pretty amazing to watch. Christy and I felt really bad for this one guy whose dog was doing well until he was trying to get the sheep into a second pen. The dog lost control, one of the sheep panicked and ran into a fence. We think the sheep was okay, but he may have damaged part of the sheep pen.


Reba: “Mom, why can’t I chase the sheep too? That’s it. I’m switching jobs, I mean it.”

Oh, and of course, here are the Highland Games, which consist mostly of giant men in muscle shirts and kilts throwing heavy stuff. I love culture!

Then, after a stop to a nice, American Chick-fil-a and PetCo (where Christy and I decided we wanted one of everything, even the snakes), we headed home, possibly a little dehydrated and sunburned, but feeling very culturally enriched … we think.

Posted in Hijinks, People Are Weird | | | 3 Comments

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